Page:Life of Robert Burns.pdf/23

23 would occasion some noise, and that every scrap of his writing would be revived against him to the injury of his future reputation; that letters and verses written with unguarded and improper freedom, and which he earnestly wished to have buried in oblivion, would be handed about by idle vanity or malevolence, when no dread of his resentment would restrain them, or prevent the censures of shrill-tongued malice, or the insidious sarcasms of envy from pouring forth all their venom to blast his fame.

From a village on the coast, where he had gone for the benefit of sea-bathing, he returned to Dumfries, the place of his residence, on the 18th of July 1796, with his constitution fast wearing out. In the words of an eye-witness, "Dumfries was like a besieged place. It was known he was dying, and the anxiety, not of the rich and the learned only, but of the mechanics and peasants, exceeded all belief. Wherever two or three people stood together, their talk was of Burns, and of him alone. They spoke of his history—of his person—of his works—of his family—of his fame—and of his untimely and approaching fate, with a warmth and an enthusiasm which will ever endear Dumfries to my remembrance."

When approaching his last hour, says one of his biographers, on the authority of the physician who attended him, "a tremour pervaded his frame, his tongue was parched, and his mind sunk into delirium when not roused by conversation. On the second and third day the fever increased, and his strength diminished." On the fourth day, July 21st 1796, Robert Burns died.

On the 25th the remains of the poet were removed to the Trades' Hall, where they lay in