Of an Inn at Stirling, on seeing the Royal Palace in ruin
Here Stuarts once in glory reigned,And laws for Scotland’s weal ordained;But now unroof’d their palace stands,Their sceptre’s sway’d by other hands;Fallen indeed, and to the earthWhence groveling reptiles take their birth.The injured Stuart line is gone,A race outlandish fills their throne;An idiot race, to honour lost;Who know them best despise them most.
The Poet’s Reply To The Threat Of A Censorious Critic
My imprudent lines were answered, very petulantly, by somebody, I believe, a Rev. Mr. Hamilton. In a MS., where I met the answer, I wrote below:—
With Esop’s lion, Burns says: Sore I feelEach other’s scorn, but damn that ass’ heel!