There’s naething here but Highland pride
And Highland cauld and hunger;
If Providence has sent me here,
T’was surely in his anger.
XXV.
ON ELPHINSTON’S TRANSLATIONS.
OF
MARTIAL’S EPIGRAMS.
[Burns thus relates the origin of this sally:—“Stopping at a merchant’s shop in Edinburgh, a friend of mine one day put Elphinston’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.”]
O thou, whom poesy abhors,
Whom prose has turned out of doors,
Heard’st thou that groan? proceed no further;
’Twas laurell’d Martial roaring murther!