Page:Poems PiattVol2.djvu/44

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32
A TRIUMPH OF TRAVEL.
There, changed to marble, Walter Scott
Received the world. And Burns of Ayr,
With all his loves and debts forgot,
A bronze immortal met you there.

No whit the seven-years' stranger cared;
As under gables high and still
Through immemorial dust he fared,
He spoke his heart out with a will:

"I'm tired of Holyrood, that's what!
And all the other things," he said;
"There 's nothing in it! She is not;—
I mean Queen Mary. She is dead.

"I'm glad I did just one thing there."
(In vain they showed him "Rizzio's bluid.")
"I put my hand on every chair
That said 'Don't Touch' at Holyrood!"