DRINKING.

The deities that I adore

Are social peace and plenty;

I'm better pleased to make one more
Than be the death o' twenty.

DRINKING.

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.

491

THE SELKIRK GRACE.

When Burns was on a visit to St. Mary's Isle, the Earl of Selkirk requested him to say grace. He obeyed in the following words :—

SOME ha'e meat, and canna eat,

And some wad cat that want it;
But we ha'e meat and we can eat,
And sae the Lord be thankit.

INNOCENCE.

INNOCENCE

Looks gaily smiling on; while rosy Pleasure
Hides young Desire amid her flowery wreath,

And pours her cup luxuriant: mantling high

The sparking heavenly vintage, Love and Bliss!

ON THE POET'S DAUGHTER,

WHO DIED 1795.

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 grieved,
This consolation's given-
She's from a world of woe relieved,
And blooms, a rose, in Heaven.

ON THE SAME.

BRIGHT ran thy line, O Galloway!
Through many a far-famed sire;
So ran the far-famed Roman way,—
So ended-in a mire!

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.

YE true" Loyal Natives," attend to my song;

In

uproar and riot rejoice the night long; From envy

and hatred your corps is exempt,

But where is your shield from the darts of contempt ?

The origin of these lines is related by Cromek. When politics ran high, the Poet happened to be in a tavern, and the following lines-the production of one of "The True Loyal Natives,"'-were handed over the table to Burns:

"Ye sons of sedition, give ear to my song,

Let Syme, Burns, and Maxwell pervade every throng;
With Cruken the attorney, and Mundell the quack,

Send Willie the monger to hell with a smack."

The Poet took out a pencil and instantly wrote the above reply.CUNNINGHAM,

ON A SUICIDE.

EARTHED up here lies an imp o' hell,
Planted by Satan's dibble:

Poor silly wretch! he's damned himsel'
To save the Lord the trouble.

TO MRS. C

ON RECEIVING A WORK OF HANNAH MORE.

THOU flattering mark of friendship kind,
Still may thy pages call to mind

The dear, the beauteous donor!"
Though sweetly female every part,
Yet such a head, and more the heart,
Does both the sexes honour.
She showed her taste refined and just
When she selected thee,
Yet deviating, own I must,

For so approving me.

But kind still, I mind still
The giver in the gift;
I'll bless her, and wiss her
A friend above the Lift.

TO MISS JESSY LEWARS.'

TALK not to me of savages

From Afric's burning sun;

No savage e'er could rend my heart
As, Jessy, thou hast done.

Jessy Lewars was the young friend whose tender care soothed the last illness of Burns. His surgeon came in one day while she was with him, and offered her a list of wild beasts belonging to a menagerie just arrived in the town. Burns caught the paper from his hand, and wrote on the back of it the above verses.

On the defeat of the Austrians by Dumourier, at Gemappe, Nov. 1792.