‘No malice to dread, sir.’ From verse 3 of ‘My Ain Fireside.’
Words by Mrs. E. Hamilton
Nae falsehood to dread, nae malice to fear,
But truth to delight me, and kindness to cheer;
O' a' roads to pleasure that ever were tried,
There's nane half so sure as one's own fireside.
My ain fireside, my ain fireside,
Oh sweet is the blink o' my ain fireside.
Book III, Ch. 6.
And you needn't, Mr. Venus, be your black bottle,
For surely I'll be mine,
And we'll take a glass with a slice of lemon in it, to which you're partial,
For auld lang syne.
A much altered version of verse 5 of Burns' celebrated song.
Book III, Ch. 6.
Charge, Chester, charge,
On Mr. Venus, on.
From Scott's Marmion.