A workhouse! ah, that sound awakes my woes,
And pillows on the thorn my rack'd repose!
In durance vile here must I wake and weep,
And all my frowzy couch in sorrow steep;
That straw where many a rogue has lain of yore,
And vermin'd gipsies litter'd heretofore.

Why, Lonsdale, thus thy wrath on vagrants pour,
Must earth no rascal, save thyself, endure?
Must thou alone in guilt immortal swell,
And make a vast monopoly of hell?

60

Thou know'st, the virtues cannot hate thee worse,
The vices also, must they club their curse?
Or must no tiny sin to others fall,
Because thy guilt's supreme enough for all?

Maria, send me too thy griefs and cares;
In all of thee sure thy Esopus shares.
As thou at all mankind the flag unfurls,
Who on my fair-one satire's vengeance hurls?
Who calls thee pert, affected, vain coquette,
A wit in folly, and a fool in wit?
Who says that fool alone is not thy due,
And quotes thy treacheries to prove it true?
Our force united on thy foes we'll turn,
And dare the war with all of woman born:
For who can write and speak as thou and I?
My periods that decyphering defy,

And thy still matchless tongue that conquers all

reply.

70

80

ON A SUICIDE.*

ARTH'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.

A FAREWELL.†

AREWELL, dear Friend! may guid luck
hit you,

And, mang her favourites admit you!
If e'er Detraction shore to smit you,
May nane believe him!

And ony De'il that thinks to get you,

Good Lord deceive him.

* Mr. Cunningham says, "A melancholy person of the name of Glendinning having taken away his own life, was interred at a place called 'The Old Chapel,' close beside Dumfries. My friend 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, 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."

†These lines formed the conclusion of a letter from Burns to Mr. John Kennedy, dated Kilmarnock, August, 1786, in which he thus speaks of his intention to go to Jamaica, and of the publication of his Poems: "On the 16th current, I hope to have it in my power to call on you, and take a kind, very probably a last adieu, before I go for Jamaica, and I expect orders to repair to Greenock every day. I have at last made my public appearance, and am solemnly inaugurated into the numerous class. Could I have had a carrier, you should have had a score of vouchers for authorship; but now you have them, let them speak for themselves."

THE FAREWELL.*

AREWELL, old Scotia's bleak domains,
Far dearer than the torrid plains
Where rich ananas blow!

Farewell, a mother's blessing dear!

A brother's sigh! a sister's tear!
My Jean's heart-rending throe!
Farewell, my Bess! tho' thou'rt bereft
Of my parental care;

A faithful brother I have left,
My part in him thou'lt share!
Adieu too, to you too,

My Smith, my bosom frien';
When kindly you mind me,

O then befriend my Jean!

When bursting anguish tears my heart!
From thee, my Jeany, must I part!
Thou weeping answ'rest 'no!'
Alas! misfortune stares my face,

10

In these affecting lines the Poet has vividly pourtrayed his feelings on his intended separation from his native land, and from all who were dear to him, in the autumn of 1786. He alludes to every one who shared his affections:-his mother; his brother Gilbert; his illegitimate child Elizabeth (see p. 93, ante), whom he had consigned to his brother's care, and for whose support he had appropriated the copyright of his poems; and to his friends Smith, Hamilton, and Aiken; but in nothing he ever wrote was his affection for Jean Armour more tenderly or more naturally displayed. These verses were first printed in the Rev. Mr. Paul's edition, published at Ayr, in 1819.

And points to ruin and disgrace,
I for thy sake must go!
Thee Hamilton, and Aiken dear,
A grateful, warm adieu!
I, with a much-indebted tear,
Shall still remember you !
All-hail then, the gale then,

Wafts me from thee, dear shore!

It rustles, and whistles

I'll never see thee more!

20

EPISTLE TO ROBERT GRAHAM, ESQ.
OF FINTRAY:

ON THE CLOSE OF THE DISPUTED ELECTION BETWEEN SIR JAMES JOHNSTONE AND CAPTAIN MILLER, FOR THE DUMFRIES DISTRICT OF BORoughs.

INTRAY, my stay in worldly strife,
Friend o' my Muse, friend o' my life,
Are ye as idle's I am?

Come then, wi' uncouth, kintra fleg,

O'er Pegasus I'll fling my leg,

And ye shall see me try him.

I'll sing the zeal Drumlanrig bears
Who left the all-important cares

Of princes and their darlings;
And, bent on winning borough towns,
Came shaking hands,wi' wabster lowns,
And kissing barefit carlins.

10

Combustion thro' our boroughs rode
Whistling his roaring pack abroad

Of mad unmuzzled lions;
As Queensberry buff and blue unfurl'd,
And Westerha' and Hopeton hurl'd

To every Whig defiance.

But cautious Queensberry left the war,
Th' unmanner'd dust might soil his star;

Besides, he hated bleeding;

But left behind him heroes bright,

Heroes in Cæsarean fight,

Or Ciceronian pleading.

O for a throat like huge Mons-Meg,
To muster o'er each ardent Whig

Beneath Drumlanrig's banner;

Heroes and heroines commix,

All in the field of politics,

To win immortal honour.

McMurdo and his lovely spouse,

(Th' enamour'd laurels kiss her brows!)

Led on the loves and graces:

She won each gaping burgess' heart,
While he, all-conquering, play'd his part
Among their wives and lasses.

Craigdarroch led a light-arm'd corps,
Tropes, metaphors and figures pour,

Like Hecla streaming thunder:

Glenriddel, skill'd in rusty coins,
Blew up each Tory's dark designs,

And bared the treason under.