Lines

TO JOHN RANKINE.

[These lines were said to have been written by the poet to Rankine, of Adamhill, with orders to forward them when he died.]

He who of Rankine sang lies stiff and dead, And a green grassy hillock hides his head; Alas! alas! a devilish change indeed.

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LXVIII.

JESSY LEWARS.

[Written on the blank side of a list of wild beasts, exhibiting in Dumfries. "Now," said the poet, who was then very ill, "it is fit to be presented to a lady."]

Talk not to me of savages From Afric's burning sun, No savage e'er could rend my heart As, Jessy, thou hast done. But Jessy's lovely hand in mine, A mutual faith to plight, Not even to view the heavenly choir Would be so blest a sight.

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LXIX.

THE TOAST.

[One day, when Burns was ill and seemed in slumber, he observed Jessy Lewars moving about the house with a light step lest she should disturb him. He took a crystal goblet containing wine-and-water for moistening his lips, wrote these words upon it with a diamond, and presented it to her.]

Fill me with the rosy-wine, Call a toast--a toast divine; Give the Poet's darling flame, Lovely Jessy be the name; Then thou mayest freely boast, Thou hast given a peerless toast.

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LXX.

ON MISS JESSY LEWARS.

[The constancy of her attendance on the poet's sick-bed and anxiety of mind brought a slight illness upon Jessy Lewars. "You must not die yet," said the poet: "give me that goblet, and I shall prepare you for the worst." He traced these lines with his diamond, and said, "That will be a companion to 'The Toast.'"]

Say, sages, what's the charm on earth Can turn Death's dart aside? It is not purity and worth, Else Jessy had not died.

R. B.

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LXXI.