LXII. On a Country Laird

LIX. On the Same.

No Stewart art thou, Galloway,
The Stewarts all were brave;
Besides, the Stewarts were but fools,
Not one of them a knave.

LX. On the Same.

Bright ran thy line, O Galloway,
Thro’ many a far-fam’d sire!
So ran the far-fam’d Roman way,
So ended in a mire.

LXI. 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.

[Mr. Maxwell, of Cardoness, afterwards Sir David, exposed himself to the rhyming wrath of Burns, by his activity in the contested elections of Heron.]

Bless Jesus Christ, O Cardoness,
With grateful lifted eyes,
Who said that not the soul alone
But body too, must rise:
For had he said, “the soul alone
From death I will deliver;”
Alas! alas! O Cardoness,
Then thou hadst slept for ever.