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XXIII.

THE HENPECK'D HUSBAND.

CURS'D be the man, the poorest wretch in life,
The crouching vassal to the tyrant wife!
Who has no will but by her high permission;
Who has not sixpence but in her possession;
Who must to her his dear friend's secret tell;
Who dreads a curtain lecture worse than hell!
Were such the wife had fallen to my part,
I'd break her spirit, or I'd break her heart;
I'd charm her with the magic of a switch,
I'd kiss her maids, and kick the perverse b-h.

It is related that one day the lady of a house where the Poet dined expressed herself with less civility than he expected about the depth of her husband's potations and his habits of extravagance. Her freedom of tongue was rewarded by these sharp verses.

XXIV.

WRITTEN AT INVERARY.

WHOE'ER he be that sojourns here,
I pity much his case,
Unless he come to wait upon

The lord their god, his Grace.

There's naething here but Highland pride,

And Highland cauld and hunger;
If Providence has sent me here,

'Twas surely in an anger..

During the first Highland tour of the Poet, he halted at Inverary; but on finding himself neglected by the innkeeper, whose house was filled with visiters to his Grace the Duke of Argyll, he expressed in these verses his sense of the incivility with which he was treated. Tradition speaks of a pursuit which took place on the part of "The Campbell," and of a determination not to be soothed on the part of the Poet.

XXV.

ON

ELPHINSTONE'S TRANSLATIONS

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OF

MARTIAL'S EPIGRAMS.

THOU, whom poesy abhors,

Whom prose has turned out of doors,

Heard'st thou that groan? proceed no further;

'Twas laurelled Martial roaring murther!

Burns has himself related the origin of this sally :

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:

Stopping at a merchant's shop, a friend of mine, in Edinburgh, one day put Elphinstone's Translation of Martial into my hand, and desired my opinion of it. I asked permission to write my opinion on a blank leaf of the book; which being granted, I wrote this epigram.”

XXVI.

INSCRIPTION

ON THE HEADSTONE OF FERGUSSON.

Here lies

ROBERT FERGUSSON, Poet.

Born, September 5, 1751;
Died, Oct. 15, 1774.

No sculptured marble here, nor pompous lay,
"No storied urn nor animated bust;"
This simple stone directs pale Scotia's way
To pour her sorrows o'er her poet's dust.

Some social friends of both bards have added monumental iron-work to the simple head-stone which Burns erected over Fergusson's grave. The taste cannot be commended-though done for the purpose of preserving, it is more likely to destroy, the precious memorial.

XXVII.

ON A SCHOOLMASTER.

HERE lie Willie Michie's banes;
O, Satan! when ye tak him,
Gi' him the schoolin' o' your weans,
For clever de'ils he'll make them.

Willie Michie was schoolmaster of Cleish parish, in Fifeshire, and became acquainted with Burns during his first visit to Edinburgh, in 1787. His name is not mentioned in all the correspondence of the Poet, nor is he numbered amongst his admirers or friends.

XXVIII.

A GRACE BEFORE DINNER.

O THOU, who kindly dost provide
For every creature's want!

We bless thee, God of Nature wide,
For all thy goodness lent:

And, if it please thee, Heavenly Guide,
May never worse be sent ;

But, whether granted or denied,
Lord, bless us with content!
Amen.

The distinction of this Grace has been given to several houses. It was a favourite practice to ask the Poet for a blessing, even where he was a guest. His readiness was generally known; and whatever he said was gratefully remembered.

XXIX.

ON WAT.

SIC a reptile was Wat,

Sic a miscreant slave,

That the very worms damned him
When laid in his grave.

"In his flesh there's a famine,"

A starv'd reptile cries;
"An' his heart is rank poison,"

Another replies.

The name of the person on whom this terrible epitaph was composed is not known. I heard the late Mr. Cromek recite it, and say that he had sought in vain to discover who the Walter was against whom it was directed. The name might be found; but, in gratifying idle curiosity, much pain would be inflicted.

XXX.

ON CAPTAIN FRANCIS GROSE.

THE devil got notice that Grose was a-dying,
So whip! at the summons, old Satan came flying;
But when he approach'd where poor Francis lay

moaning,

And saw each bed-post with its burden a-groaning, Astonish'd! confounded! cry'd Satan, "By God! I'll want 'im, ere I take such a damnable load!"

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