onie unhang'd blackguard.

There's some exception, man an' woman;
But this is Gentry's life in common.

By this, the sun was out o' sight,
An' darker gloaming brought the night:
The bum-clock humm'd wi' lazy drone;
The kye stood rowtin i' the loan;
When up they gat, and shook their lugs,
Rejoic'd they were na men, but dogs;
An' each took aff his several way,
Resolv'd to meet some ither day.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 59: Cuchullin's dog in Ossian's Fingal.]

* * * * *

LXVIII.

LINES

ON

MEETING WITH LORD DAER.

["The first time I saw Robert Burns," says Dugald Stewart, "was on the
23rd of October, 1786, when he dined at my house in Ayrshire, together
with our common friend, John Mackenzie, surgeon in Mauchline, to whom I
am indebted for the pleasure of his acquaintance. My excellent and
much-lamented friend, the late Basil, Lord Daer, happened to arrive at
Catrine the same day, and, by the kindness and frankness of his manners,
left an impression on the mind of the poet which was never effaced. The
verses which the poet wrote on the occasion are among the most imperfect
of his pieces, but a few stanzas may perhaps be a matter of curiosity,
both on account of the character to which they relate and the light
which they throw on the situation and the feelings of the writer before
his work was known to the public." Basil, Lord Daer, the uncle of the
present Earl of Selkirk, was born in the year 1769, at the family seat
of St. Mary's Isle: he distinguished himself early at school, and at
college excelled in literature and science; he had a greater regard for
democracy than was then reckoned consistent with his birth and rank. He
was, when Burns met him, in his twenty-third year; was very tall,
something careless in his dress, and had the taste and talent common to
his distinguished family. He died in his thirty-third year.]

This wot ye all whom it concerns,
I, Rhymer Robin, alias Burns,
October twenty-third,
A ne'er-to-be-forgotten day,
Sae far I sprachled up the brae,
I dinner'd wi' a Lord.

I've been at druken writers' feasts,
Nay, been bitch-fou' 'mang godly priests,
Wi' rev'rence be it spoken:
I've even join'd the honour'd jorum,
When mighty squireships of the quorum
Their hydra drouth did sloken.

But wi' a Lord--stand o