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 JEn^raved ^rJftfZr^larirHdi'fi'on of Burytsfoemj; /SOf. 
 
^CuH^( M^t ^^' ^-^^' 
 
 POEMS, 
 
 CHIEFLY IN THE 
 
 SCOTTISH DIALECT. 
 
 ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 TO WUICH ARE ADDEDj 
 
 KOT CONTAINED *1N ANY FORMER EDITION 
 , . v.Q^.-HIS POEMS, 
 
 AND A 
 
 LIFE OF THE AUTHOR. 
 
 »dSKiyQ <'3§^>#<^»<8 ■! 
 
 GLASGOW, 
 
 BOOKSELLERS AND STATIONERS, 
 TR0NGAT£, 
 
 1801. 
 
- • %. 
 
 
 '■^;i 
 
 
S'f 
 
 J OF 
 
 ' ROBERTBURNS. 
 
 William Burns, the father of our poet, was the fon of a far- 
 Hier in Kincardinefhire. The narrow circumilances of his family 
 had compelled him to leave his paternal roof at an early age, and 
 after ferving in a variety of fituations he fettled as a gardener in 
 the fhire of Ayr, From a phyfician in Ayr he obtained a perpe- 
 tual leafe of feven acres of ground, and in the year 1 75 7, married 
 AgBes Brown, the mother of our poet. In a fmall houfe which 
 he had built on the ground, his eldeft fon Robert was born on the 
 ajth of January, J759. 
 
 Burns, and his brother Gilbert, received their. education from 
 a Mr, John Murdoch, whofe care and attention to his pupils, Burns 
 acknowledged with gratitude, at an after period of his life. Be-, 
 fides reading and wTuing, Burns received (from this gentleman) a 
 (ligTit knowledge of the French language, which he afterwards^ 
 improved, and his father inflruded hiui in the common rulc^ of 
 arithmetic. 
 
 Burns's-Iove ofreading, which he carried to exccU, his father 
 indulged to the utmoil of his power; fortunately for t^ie young 
 poet, his neighbours pofTtlTed a few good books, which he read 
 and talked of with an enthufiafm remarkably prophetic of his fu- 
 ture chara<5ler. 
 
 For the firfl fcvcn years of Burns' life, his father followed the 
 
 ' ade of a gardener; but at the end of this period, with the view 
 
 :- bettering his condition, he difpofed of his leafe, and took a 
 
 a % A^all 
 
( 'v ) 
 
 fniall farm. The death of his landlord put an end to the comfort 
 which William Burns had begun to feel in hw new fituation, and 
 the management of the eftate was delivered to a <« fadlor," whofc 
 portrait Burns has drawn in the following lines* 
 
 « I've noticed, on eur Laird's court-day^ 
 An' mony a time my heart's, been wae> 
 Poor tenant bodies^ fcant o' cafh, ' ' 
 
 How they maun thole a /amor's fnalh^ 
 
 Hill fi am} ari threat en y ctirjc an^ fwear, 
 He'll apprehend them^ poind their gear; 
 While they maun liau', wi' afped humble, 
 An' hear it a', an' fear an' tremble!" • 
 
 A difpute with this perfon obliged William Burns to leave hi* 
 farm, and remove to another which he had taken, called Lochlea. 
 
 Robert wrought as a farmer along with his father til! his twca- 
 ry-third year, when he removed to Irvine, and became a flax-dref* 
 Ur. This bufinefs he carried on for about fix months, but as he- 
 and his friends were drinking a welcome to the new year, the (hop 
 took fire, and was burnt to aihcs, and the poor poet, left without a 
 fixpence, returned home to his father at Lochlea. A difpute hav- 
 ing arifen refpecfting the conditions of his father's leafe which had 
 not been committed to writing, the fub]e(Sls in queftion were fub-* 
 mitted to arbitration, and the decifion involved the affairs of Wil- 
 liam Burns in ruin^ He lived to know of this decifion, but not to 
 fee any execution in confequence of it: he died on the 13th of-- 
 February, 1784. 
 
 A fhort time before the death of their father. Burns and his bro- 
 ther with the united favings of the whole family, took the farm 
 of Mofsgicl. After refiding on it nearly four years, they were 
 forced to give it up, having, in confequence of unf*vourablc fea- 
 fons, loft great part of their original ftock. While Burns refidcd 
 at Mofsgicl, he became acquainted with Jean Armour, (afterwards 
 Mrs. Burns) and about the time when he had determined to give 
 up the farm, the condition of his Jean could uo longer he concealed. V 
 
 T« 
 
( ^ ) 
 
 To ad(f to his misfortunes, her parents refufed their confent to 
 his marriage, and in the greateil difirefs of mind, he refolved to^ 
 leave his country. 
 
 He had been offered the fituation of an overfeer in Jamaica, and 
 to defray the expences of his voyage, he publifhed by fubfcription 
 a volume of poems. With the firil fruits of his poetical la- 
 bours, he had paid his pafTage, and purchafed a few articles of 
 clothing, &c, Kis cheft (which he was foon to follow,) was al- 
 ready on the way to Greenock, when a letter from Dr. Black- 
 lock, fignifying his approbation of the poems, and an alTurance 
 that Burns would meet with encouragement in Ediuburgh, for a 
 fecoiid edition, completely changed his intentions* 
 
 Soon after his arrival in Edinburgh, his poems procnred him 
 the admiration of all conditions; perfons of rank and power were 
 not above noticing *« The 'Ayrptre Floiighmariy^ and, in a Ihort time, 
 the name of Burns was celebrated over all the kingdom. 
 
 In Edinburgh, Burns beheld mankind in a new light: furround* 
 cd on ail fides by admirers, his days were pafied in the company 
 of the great, his evenings in diifipation. This kind of life he had 
 led nearly a year, when his friends fuggeiiedto him the neceffity 
 offeeking a permanent eftabliihment. With L*5oo, the profits 
 of his poems, he retired from Edinburgh to the farm of Ellifiand 
 in Nithfdale, near Dumfries. He was now in a Hate of compa- 
 rative affluence, and the parents of " hts Jeait^^ no longer objecft" 
 ing to his poverty, he legitimated his infant fon by a lawful mar<» 
 riage. ^ 
 
 To his brother Gilbert, who had undertaken the fupport of hi?- 
 aged mother, he advanced the fum of L, zoo. The remainder of 
 his money he laid out in flocking his farm. At a diftance from 
 the fcenes of his former dilTipation, removed from all fcciety, fave 
 that of his own family, and in pofTeffion of the dearefl objed of 
 his wiilies, he promifed himfelf many long and happy days. His 
 old habits were, however, too ftrong to be overcome, and the gen- 
 tlemen farmers of Nithfdale were already his boon companions. 
 
 a 3 In. 
 
( vl ) 
 
 In a few years he became tired of farming; and Mr. Graharn 
 of Fintry, having procured for him a place in the excife, with a 
 falary of L.50 a-year, he fold his Hock and farming'' utenfils, and 
 removed to Dumfries. 
 
 Tlie duties of his new office feldom required much of his time, 
 and he refumed infenfibly his former habits. His healthy which 
 had been gradually declining, fuffered a fevere fhock in the win- 
 ter of 1795-6, and after llruggling for feveral months- with difeafe, 
 want, and the dread of a jail, which at times affeded his mind^ 
 he expired -on the aift of July, I796» 
 
 The gentlemen volunteers of Dumfries, had determined to bu- 
 ry their afibciate with military honours. The funeral took place 
 on the 26th of July, when the remains of Burns were interred in 
 the fouthern church-yard, and three voUies marked the return of 
 the poet to his parent earth! 
 
 The charadler of Bums has been already drawn by himfelf. 
 
 ^he Bard's Epitaph is the genuine pi(5lure of his own mind, and we 
 cannot do betier than fubjoin it. 
 
 Is there a whim-infpired fool, 
 
 Owre fail for thought, ov/re hot for rule^ 
 
 Owre blate to feck, owre proud to fnool, 
 
 Let him draw near; 
 And owre this grafly heap fing dool. 
 
 And drap a tear. 
 
 Is there a bard of ruilic fong, 
 
 V/ho, notelefs, fteals the crowds among. 
 
 That weekly this area throng, 
 
 O, pafs not by! 
 But, with a frater-feeling ftrong, 
 
 Here heave a figh. 
 
 Is there a man, whofe jur'gment clear, 
 Can others teach the courfe to ftcer, 
 
 Yet 
 
( -!I ) 
 
 Yet runs, himfelf, life's mad career, 
 
 Wild as the wave ; 
 Here paufe— and, through the flarting tear^ 
 
 Survey this grave. 
 
 The poor inhabitant below 
 
 Was quick to learn and wife to know, 
 
 And keenly felt the friendly glow, 
 
 Andifofter flame; 
 But thoughtlefs follies laid him low, 
 
 And flain'd his name I 
 
 Reader, attend — whether thy foul 
 Soars fancy's flights beyond the pole. 
 Or darkhng grubs this earthly hole, 
 
 In low purfuit ; 
 Know, prudent, cautious, felf-controuly 
 
 Is wifdom's root. 
 
 Burns died in great poverty, leaving a wife and four infant 
 children):. The furniture of his houfe, his library (which was but 
 fmall), and L.zoo which he had lent to his brother, were all that 
 the children of Burns inherited from their father. The profits of 
 an elegant edition of his works, added to a fubfcription colledled 
 for their benefit, have, however, fet them at leaft above the reach 
 of want. The eldeft boy, a youth of the molt amiable difpofi- 
 tions, gives promife of inheriting his father's genius. 
 
 \ His pofthumoiis fon, Maxwell, born on the morning of his father's fu- 
 neral, lived but a mort time, and is now a tenant of the fame grave with 
 ills illuftrious parent. 
 
 DEDICATION. 
 
DEDICATION. 
 
 Ta THE 
 
 NOBLEMEN and GENTLEMEN 
 
 or THE 
 
 CALEDONIAN HUNT. 
 
 My Lords and Gentlemen, 
 
 JjL SCOTTISH Bard^ proud of the namcj and tvhofe high* 
 ejl ambition is tofing in his country^ s fer vice y where JJj all he fo 
 properly look for patronage as to the illuflrioits names of his na- 
 tive Land; thofe who hear the honours and inherit the virtues 
 of their Anceflors? The Poetic Genius of my Country found me ^ 
 as the prophetic Bard Elijah did Elijha — at the Plough ; and 
 threw her infpiring mantle over me. She hade mefing the loves^_ 
 the joys ^ the rural fcenes and rural pleafures of my natal Soil y 
 in my native tongue: I tuned my wild^ artlefs notes ^ . as Jhe in^ 
 fptred,'-^She whifpered me to come to this ancient Metropolis of 
 Caledonia^ and lay my Songs under your honoured protection: I- 
 now obey her dilates, 
 
 I 
 Though much indebted to your goodnefsy I iio not approach 
 you, my Lords and Gentlemen^, in the ufualflyle of dedication ^ to 
 thank you for pafl favours: that path is fo hackneyed by profit-' 
 tuted Learning y that honefl Rufltctty is afoamed of it. ^' Nor do 
 J prefent this Addrefs with th^ venal foul of a fervile Author^ 
 
 looking 
 
( »x ) 
 
 hoBngfor a continuation of thofe favours: I tvas bred to the 
 Ploughy and am independent. I come to clam the common Scot- 
 tish name nvlth youy my illuflrious Countrymen; and to tell the 
 mjorld that I glory in the title, — / come to congratulate my coun^ 
 try 9 that the Hood of her ancient heroes fltU remains uncont aminat* 
 ed; and that y from your courage J knowledge ^ and public fptrltj 
 Jhe may expeB protections wealthy and liberty. — In the lafl place ^ 
 I come to proffer my warmefi wi/Ioes to the Great Fountain of 
 honour y the Monarch of the Uiiiverfdy for your welfare and 
 happinefs* 
 
 When you go forth to waken the Echoes ^ in the ancient and 
 favourite amufement of your Forefathers, may Pleafure ever be 
 of your party; and may Social Joy await your return! When 
 harOjffed In courts or camps with the juftllngs of had men and had 
 meafuresy may the honefl conjcloufnefs of Injured worth attend 
 your return to your native feats; and may dcmefiic Happinefsy 
 *with a fmiling ivelcbme, meet you at your gates! May corruption, 
 fhrlnk at your kindling Indignant glance; and may tyranny In 
 the Ruler y and Ucentioufnefs in the Peoplcy equally find you an 
 inexorable foe ! 
 
 I have the honour to be. 
 
 With thefmcerefi gratitude and hlghefl refpe5^ 
 
 My Lords and Gentlemen, 
 
 Tour mofl devoted humble fervant^ 
 
 ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 April 4, 1 787.x 
 
 CONTENTS, 
 
C O N T E N T ST, 
 
 THE Twa Dogs. A Tde ..... 
 
 Scotch Drink * - . ^ . 
 
 The Author's Earneft Cry and Prayer to the Scotch Repre- 
 
 fentatives in the Houfe of Commons 
 The Holy Fair ..... . . 
 
 Death and Dt, Hornbook - .^ *► 
 
 The Brigs of Ayr .--..•. 
 
 The Ordination - . . . -- - « 
 
 The Calf - 
 
 Addrefs to the Dcil - - - - . . 
 
 The Death and Dying Words of Poor Maillie. 
 
 Poor MailUe's Elegy - - - - . _ 
 
 ToJ. S*^*** . 
 
 A Dream - - - - «... 
 
 TheVifion - . » 
 
 Addrefs to the Unco Guid, or the Rigidly Righteous 
 Tarn Samfou's Elegy - - - - . 
 
 Halloween --..---- 
 The Auld Farmer's New- Year Morning's Salutation to his 
 
 Auld Mare, Maggie - - - - - .126 
 
 To a Moufe - 131 
 
 A Winter Night - - - - - - 133. 
 
 Epiftle to Davie, a Brother Poet - ... 137 
 
 The Lament - • - - - . 144 
 
 Defpondency. An Ode .... 148* 
 
 Winter^ A Dirge - - .... 151 
 
 The Cotter's Saturday Night - - - - - ^53 
 
 Man was made to mourn. A Dirge - - - l^'i 
 
 A Prayer in the ProfpecSi: of Death ... - 166 
 
 Stanzas on the fame occafion - - .» . - 168 
 
 Vcrfe^ 
 
( ^i ) 
 
 T-^rfes left at a Friend's Houfe - - - - l5^ 
 
 The Firft Pfalm - - 171 
 
 ^ A Prayer -- -- - - - lyz 
 
 The Firft Six Verfes of the Ninetieth Pfalm - - 173 
 
 To a Mountain Daify - • - - I75 
 
 To Ruin - - - - - - _ i^^ 
 
 To Mifs L , with Beattie's Poems for a New-year's Gift 179 
 
 Tpiftle to a Young Friend - - - - 180 
 
 On a Scotch Bard gone to the Weft Indies - - 184 
 
 To a Haggis ----- 187 
 
 A Dedication to G*»*** H*****»*, Efq. - - 189 
 
 To a Loufe, on feeing one on a Lady's Bonnet at Church 194 
 
 Addrefs to Edinburgh - - - • 197 
 
 Epiftle to J. L"^***, an old Scotch Bard - - , 200 
 
 To the fame - - - - - - 206 
 
 EpiftletoW.S*****, Ochiltree - - • . 210 
 
 I Epiftle to J. R*****^ incloHng fome Poems - ai8 
 
 John Barleycorn. A Ballad - - - «. j;^^ 
 
 A Fragment, * When Guildford good our pilot flood,* 2z6 
 
 Song, * It was upon a Lammas-nlght,' - - 229 
 
 Song, ^ Now weftlin winds and flaughtering guns/ 231 
 
 Song, * Behind yon hills where Stinchar flows/ - ^^^ 
 
 Green grow the Rafhes. A Fragment - - z^^ 
 
 vSong, < Again rejoicing Nature fees,* • - 237 
 
 Song, * The gloomy night is gathenVg faft/ - - 240 
 
 Song, * From thee, Eliza, I muft go,' - - - 24% 
 The Farewell. To the Brethren of St James's Lodge, Tar- 
 
 bolton - - - . - - . 243 
 
 Song, < No churchman am I for to rail and to write,' ' 245 
 
 Written in Friar's Carfe Hermitage - - - - 247 
 
 Ode to to the memory of Mrs — of — -• - - . 249 
 
 Elegy on Captain M H - - 25 1 
 
 Lament of Mary Queen of Scots - - - - 257 
 ToR^** G*** of F***, Efq. - - .259 
 
 Lament for James Earl of Glencairn - - - 263 
 
 Xines fent to Sir John Whiteford with the foregoing - 266 
 
 Tarn O' Shanter. A Tale - - - - 167 
 
 Oil 
 
On feeing a wounded hare a fellow had ihot at - ^jG 
 
 Addrefs to the Shade of Thomfon - - - 277 
 
 Epitaph on a celebrated Ruling Elder - - - 27S 
 
 ■ on a Noify Polemic • - - . ibid. 
 
 '■ on Wee Johnnie - - - - ay^ 
 
 For the Author's Father - - - ibid. 
 
 « For R. A. Efq. ... . ibid. 
 
 For G. H. Efq. - - - - aSo 
 
 A Bard's Epitaph - . - - - • ibid. 
 
 On Captain Grofe's Perigrinations . • - . 2Z% 
 
 On Mifs €*•**♦*•** - - - - - 285 
 
 Song, « Anna thy charms my bofom fires,' - a86 
 
 On the Death of J M*L ... - 287 
 
 Humble Petition of Bruar Water - - - - ^88 
 
 On fearing fome water-fowl ... . 2^z 
 
 Written at the Inn at Taymouth .... 294 
 
 Written at the Fall of Fyers - - - - - 295 
 
 On the Birth of a Pollhumous Child - - 296 
 
 The Whiftle - - - - - - 297 
 
 The Jolly Beggars - 30Z 
 
 The Kirk's Alarm - - - . - . . 318 
 
 Anfwer to an Epiftle from a Taylor - - - - 32a 
 Song, written at a General Meeting of the Excife-Officers in 
 
 Scotland - - - - - 325 
 
 VThe Twa Herds - -. 326 
 
 Holy Willie's Prayer - _- ... 330 
 
 The Inventory -- -- .- 334 
 
 Epitaph on a Wag in Mauchlinc - • - - ^^y 
 
 OnMifs J. Scott, of Ayr 338 
 
 Toail given at the Commemoration of Rodney's Vi(5lory ibid. 
 
 Song, The Lafs that made the bed to me - - 339 
 
 Verfes written on a window of the Inn at Carron • 341 
 
 POEMS 
 
POEMS 
 
 CHIEFLY 
 
 SCOTTISH. 
 
 THE TWA DOGSr 
 
 A TALE. 
 
 ? 
 
 T^ 
 
 1 WAS in that place o' Scotland's isle. 
 That bears the name o' ^uld King Coi/^ 
 Upon a bonnie day in June, 
 When wearing thro' the afternoon, 
 Twa dogs that were na thrang at hame, 
 Forgather'd ance upon a time. 
 
 The iirst I'll name, they ca'd him Casar^ 
 Was keepit for his Honor's pleasure: 
 His hair, his size, his mouth his lugs, 
 Shew'd he was nane o' Scotland's dogs, 
 But whalpit some place far abroad. 
 Where sailors gang to fish for Cod, 
 
 A Hi> 
 
His locked, letterM, braw brass collar, 
 Shew'd him the gentleman and scholar; 
 But though he was o' high degree, 
 The fient a pride na pride had he; 
 But wad hae spent an hour caressin, 
 Ev'n wi' a tinkler-gypsey's messin: 
 At kirk or market, mill or smiddie, 
 Nae tawtcd tyke, tho' e'er sae duddie. 
 But he wad stan't, as glad to see him. 
 And stroan't on stanes an' hillocks wi'him. 
 
 The tither v/as a ploughman's collie, 
 ^ rhyming, ranting, raving billie, 
 Wha for his friend an' comrade had him. 
 And in his freaks had Luath ca'd him. 
 After some dog in Highland sang|, 
 Was made lang syne, — Lord knows how lang# 
 
 He was a gash an' faithful tyke. 
 As ever lap a sheugh or dyke. 
 His honest, sonsie, baws'nt face. 
 Ay gat him friends in ilka place. 
 His breast was white, his touzie back 
 Weel clad wi' coat o' glossy black; 
 His gawcy tail, wi' upward curl. 
 Hung o'er his hurdies wi' a swirL 
 
 r 
 
 Nae doubt but they were fain o' idier, 
 An' unco pack an' thick thegither; 
 
 Wi' 
 \ CuchulUn's dog in Oflian's/Fingal. 
 
Wi' social nose whyles snufFd an' snowkil, 
 Whylesmice aa moudieworts they howkit; 
 Whyles scour'd awa in lang excursion, 
 An' worry'd ither in diversion. 
 Until wi' daffin weary grown, 
 Upon a knowe they sat them down. 
 And tliere began a lang digtessioa 
 About the lords o* the creatio4U 
 
 I've aften wonderd, honest Luathj 
 What sort o' life poor dogs like you have; 
 An' when the gentry's life I saw. 
 What way poor bodies liv'd ava. 
 
 Our Laird gets in his racked rents. 
 His coals, his kain, and a' his stents: 
 He rises when he likes himsel; 
 His flunkies answer at the bell; 
 He ca's his coach^ he ca's hishorse*. 
 He draws a bonie silken purse. 
 As lang's my tail, whare, thro' the steeks^ 
 The yellow letter'd Geordie keeks. 
 
 Frae morn to e'en its nought but toiling^ 
 At baking, roasting, frying, boiling; 
 An' tho' the gentry first are stechin, ^ 
 Yet e'en the ha' folk fill their pechan 
 
 A % Wi' 
 
Wi* sauce, ragouts, an' siclike trashtricj,. 
 That's little short o' downright wastrie. 
 Our Whipper-in, wee blastit wonder, 
 Poor worthless elf, it eats a dinner. 
 Better than ony tenant man 
 His Honor has in a' the Ian': 
 An' what poor cot-folk pit their painch in, 
 I own it's past my comprehension, 
 
 LUATH. 
 
 Trowth, C^j^r, whyles they're fash^t enough^, 
 A cottar howkin in a sheugh, 
 Wi' dirty stanes biggin a dyke, 
 Baring a quarry, and siclike, 
 Himsel, a wife, he thus sustains, 
 A smytrie o' wee duddie weans. 
 An' nought but his han' daurg, to keep 
 Them right and tight in thack an' rape. 
 
 A.n' when they meet wi' sair disasters, 
 Like loss o' health, or want o' masters, 
 Ye maist wad think, a wee touch langcr, 
 An' they maun starve o' cauld ^nd hunger: 
 But, hov/ it comes, I never kend yet, 
 They're maistly wonderfu' contented 5 
 An' buirdly chiels, an' clever hizzie^, 
 Are bred in sic a way as this is. 
 
 c^^.sAmi 
 
CJESAR. 
 
 But then to see how yeVe negleckit, 
 How huiPd, and cufPd^ and disrespeckit! 
 L — d, man, our gentry care as little 
 For delvers, ditchers, an sic cattle; 
 They gang as saucy by poor folk^ 
 As I wad by a stinking brock. 
 
 I've notic'd, on our Laird's cpiiU-d'^A..^-, 
 An' mony a time my heart's beeu n^^^i 
 Poor tenant bodies scant o' cash. 
 How they maun thole a factor's snasii: 
 He'll stamp an' threaten, curse an' swear. 
 He'll apprehend them, poind their gear; 
 While they maun stan% wi' aspect humble^ 
 An' hear it a', an' fear aa' tremble! 
 
 I see how folk live that hae riches; 
 But surely poor folk maun be wretches? 
 
 LUATH. 
 
 They're nae sae wretched's ane wad thinkj 
 Tho' constantly^ on poortith's brink: 
 They're sae accustom'd wi' the sight, 
 The view o't gies them little fright. 
 
 Then chance an' fortune are sae guided, 
 They're ay in less or mair provided; 
 
 A 3 An^. 
 
An' tho' fatiguM wi' close employment*^ 
 A blink o' rest's a sweet enjoyment. 
 
 The dearest comfort o' their lives. 
 Their grushie weans an' faithfu' wives; 
 The prattling things are just their pride. 
 That sweetens a' their fire-side. 
 
 An' whyles twalpennie worth o' nappy 
 Can rnak the bodies unco happy; 
 They lay aside their private caresj 
 To mind the Kirk and State affairs: 
 They'll talk o' patronage and priests, 
 Wi' kindling fury m their breasts. 
 Or tell what new taxation's comin. 
 An' ferlie at the folk in Lon'on. 
 
 As bleak-fac'd Hallowmass returns. 
 They get the jovial ranting kirns,, 
 "When rural life^ o' ev'ry station^ 
 Unite in common recreation; 
 Love blinks, Wit slaps; an' social Mirth 
 Forgets there's Care upo' the earth. 
 
 That merry day the year begins. 
 They bar the door on frosty winds; 
 The nappy reeks wi' mantling ream, 
 An' sheds a heart-inspiring steam; 
 The luntin pipe, an' sneeshin mill. 
 Are handed round wi' right guid will; 
 
 The 
 
The cantie anldfolks, crackin crouse; 
 The yoiing anes rantin thro' the house,- 
 My heart has been sae fain to see theiin> 
 That I for joy hae barkit wi' them. 
 
 Still it's owre true that ye hae said. 
 Sic game is now owre aften play'd. 
 There's mony a creditable stock 
 O' decent, honest, fawsont folk, 
 Are riven out baith root and branch. 
 Some rascal's pridefu' greed to quench, 
 Wha think^ to knit himsel the faster 
 In favour wi' some gentle Master, 
 Wha, ablins, thrang a-parliamentin. 
 For Britain's guid his-saul indenting 
 
 C^SAR. 
 
 Halth, lad, ye little ken about it> 
 For Britain^ sgiud! guid faith! I doubt it» 
 Say rather, gaun as Premiers lead him, 
 An' saying aye or no'^s they bid him : 
 At operas an' plays parading. 
 Mortgaging, gambling, masquerading; 
 Or maybe, in a frolic daft. 
 To Hague or Calais takes a waft, 
 Tomak a tour, an' tak a whirl. 
 To learn kn ton an' see the worF* 
 
 There 
 
8 
 
 TRere, at Vienna or Versailles^ ^ 
 He rives his father's auld entails;. 
 Or by Madrid he takes jthe rout, 
 To thrum guitars, and fecht wi' nowtV: 
 Gr down ItaHan vista startles, 
 Wh— re-hunting among groves o' myrtles: 
 Then bouses drumly German water. 
 To mak himsel look fair and fatter, 
 An' clear the consequential sorrows. 
 Love-gifts of Carnival signoras. 
 For Britain^ s gtdd! for her destruction I 
 Wi' dissipation, feud, an' faction*. 
 
 EUATH. 
 
 Hech man ! dear sirs ! is that the gate 
 They waste sae mony a braw estate ! 
 Are we sae foughten an' harass'dr 
 For gear to gang that gate at last ! 
 
 O would they stay aback frae courts. 
 An' please themselves wi' countra sport$> 
 It wad for ev'ry ane be better. 
 The Laird, the Tenant, an' the Cotter! 
 For thae frank, rantin, ramblin billies, 
 Fient hate o' them's ill-hearted fellowsj 
 Except for breakino' their timmer. 
 Or spcakin lightly o' their limmer. 
 Or shootin o' a hare or moor-cock. 
 The ne'er a bit they're ill to poor folk. 
 
 But 
 
But will ye tell me, Master Casar^ 
 Sure great folks life's a life o* pleasure j 
 Nae cauld or hunger e'er can steer them. 
 The vera thought o't need na,,fear them. 
 
 L — d, man, were ye but whyles whare I am^^ 
 The gentles ye w^ad ne'er, envy 'em*. 
 
 It's true, they Beed na starve or sweaty 
 Thro' winter's cauld, or simmer's heat*, 
 They've nae sairwark to craze their banee^ 
 An' fill auld age wi' grips an' granes: 
 But human bodies are sic foois> 
 For a' their colleges and schools. 
 That when nae real ills perplex them. 
 They mak enow themselsto vex them; 
 An' ay the less they hae to sturt them; 
 •In like proportion less will hurt them. 
 A. country fellov/ at the pleugh. 
 His acre's till'd, he's right enough; 
 A country girl at her wheel. 
 Her dizzen's done, she's unco weel: 
 But Gentlemen, an' Ladies warst, 
 Wi' ev'ndown want o' wavk are curst, . 
 They loiter, lounging, lank, an' lazy; 
 Tho' deil haet ails them, yet uneasy; * 
 Their days insipid, dull, an' tasteless; 
 Their nights unquiet, langan' restless; 
 
 All* 
 
lo 
 
 An' ev'n their sports, their balls an' races. 
 Their galloping through public places. 
 There's sic parade, sic pomp, an' art. 
 The joy can scarcely reach the heart. 
 The men cast out in party matches. 
 Then sowther a' in deep debauches; 
 Ae night they're mad wi' drink an' wh-ring^ 
 Niest day their life is past enduring. 
 The Ladies arm-in-arm in clusters. 
 As great and gracious a' as sisters; 
 But hear their absent thoughts o' ither. 
 They're a run deils an' jads thegither. 
 Whyles, owre the wee bit cup and platie, 
 They sip the scandle potion pretty; 
 Or lee-lang nights, wi' crabbit leuks. 
 Pore owre the devil's pictur'd beuks; 
 Stake on a chance a farmer's stackyard. 
 An' cheat like onie unhang'd blackguard. 
 
 There's some exception, man an' woman; 
 But this is Gentry's life in common. 
 
 By this, the sun was out 6' sight, 
 An' darker gloaming brought the night: 
 The bum«clock humm'd wi' lazy drone;. 
 The kye stood rowtin i' the loan : 
 When up they gat, and shook their lugs, 
 Rejoic'd they were na men but dogs; 
 An' each took aff his several way, 
 Resolv'd to meet some ither day.. 
 
 SCOTCH 
 
II 
 
 SCOTCH DRINK. 
 
 Ck him strong drhtk until he -whiky 
 
 that's sinking in despair; 
 Ai'i liquor guid to fire his bluid, 
 
 Thafs pre St wi* grief an' care: 
 There let him houses an* deep crn'oitse^ 
 
 JVi' lumpers floiuing oVr, 
 Till he forgets his loves or debts, 
 
 An* 7ninds his griefs no more, 
 
 Solomon's froverbs, xxxi. 6, 7. 
 
 JLiET other Poets raise a fracas 
 
 'Bout vines, an' wines, an' drukeil Bacchus^ 
 
 An' crabbit names an' stories wrack us. 
 
 An' grate our lug, 
 I sing the juice Scots bear can mak us> 
 
 In glass or jug. 
 
 O thou my Muse! guid auld Scotch Drink! 
 Whether thro' wimpling worms thou jink. 
 Or, richly brown, ream o'er the brink. 
 
 In glorious faem. 
 Inspire me, till I lisp and wink, 
 
 To sing thy name! 
 
 Let 
 
12 
 
 Let husky Wheat the haughs adorn. 
 An' Aits set up their awnie horn, 
 An' Pease and Beans at e'en or morn. 
 
 Perfume the plain, 
 Leeze me on thee> John Barle^Korn^ 
 
 Thou king o' grain! 
 
 On thee aft Scotland chows her cood, 
 In souple scones, the wale o' food! 
 Or tumblin in the boiling flood 
 
 Wi' kail arf beef; 
 But when thou pours thy strong heart's blood. 
 
 There thou shines chief* 
 
 ' Food fills the wame, an' keeps us llvin; 
 Tho' life's a gift no worth receivin. 
 When heavy dragg'd wi' pine an' grievin; 
 
 But, oil'd by thee. 
 The wheels o' life gae down-hill, scrievin, 
 Wi' rattlin glee. 
 
 Thou clears the head o' doited Lear^ 
 Thou chears the heart o' drooping Care; 
 Thou strings the nerves o' Labor sair, 
 
 At's weary toil; 
 Thou ev'n brightens dark Despair 
 
 Wi' gloomy smile. 
 
 AfC 
 
13 
 
 Aft, clad in massy siller weed, 
 Wi* gentles thou erects thy head; 
 Yet humbly kind in time o' need, 
 
 The poor man's wine. 
 His wee drap parrltch, or his bread, 
 
 Thou kitchens fine. 
 
 Thou art the life o' public haunts; 
 
 But thee, what were our fairs and rants ? 
 
 Ev'n godly meetings o' the saunts. 
 
 By thee inspired. 
 When gaping they besiege the tents. 
 
 Are doubly iir'd. 
 
 That merry night we get the corn in, 
 O sweetly then thou reams the horn in! 
 Or reekin on a New-year morning 
 
 In cog or bicker, 
 An' just a wee drap sp'ritual burn in, 
 
 An' gusty sucker! 
 
 When Vulcan gies his bellows breath, 
 An' ploughmen gather wi' their graith, 
 Orare! to see thee fizz an' freath 
 
 r th' lagget caup! 
 Then Burfiewln comes on like death 
 
 At ev'ry chaup. 
 
 B Nae 
 
14 
 
 Nae mercy, then, for airn or steel; 
 The brawnie, bainie, ploughman chiel. 
 Brings hard owrehip, wi' sturdy wheel. 
 
 The strong forehammer. 
 Till block an' studdie ring an' reel 
 
 Wi' dinsome clamour. 
 
 When skirlln weanies see the light. 
 Thou maks the gossips clatter bright. 
 How fumblin cuifs their dearies slight; 
 
 Wae worth the name ! 
 Nae howdie gets a social night, 
 
 Or plack frae them. 
 
 When neebors anger at a plea. 
 An' just as wud as wud can be, 
 How easy can the barley-bree 
 
 Cement the quarrel ? 
 It's aye the cheapest lawyer's fee. 
 
 To taste the barrel. 
 
 Alake! that e^er my Muse has reason 
 To wy te her countrymen wi' treason ! 
 But monie daily weet their weason 
 
 Wi' liquors nice. 
 An' hardly, in a winter's season. 
 
 E'er spier her price. 
 
 Wae 
 
Wae worth that brandy^ burning tra'sh! 
 Fell source o' monie a pain an', brash ! 
 Twins mony a poor, doylt, druken hash^ 
 
 O' half his days; 
 An* Bcndsi besldej auld Scotland's cash ♦ 
 
 To hor war|t faea. 
 
 Ye Scots, wFia wish auld Scotland well! 
 Ye chief, to you my tale I tell. 
 Poor plackless devils like myself 
 
 It sets you ill, 
 Wi' bitter, dearthfu' wines to meil. 
 
 Or foreign gilL 
 
 May gravels round his blather wrcneh. 
 An" gouts torment him inch by inch, 
 Wha twists hi§ gruntle wi' a glunch 
 
 O' sour disdain. 
 Out owre a glass o' whisky punch 
 
 Wi' honest mei^; 
 
 O Whisky! soul o' plays an' pranks! 
 Accept a Bardie's humble thanks ! 
 When wanting thee, what tuneless cranks 
 
 Are my poor verses! 
 ThoU- corner— -they rattle i' their ranks 
 
 At ither's a — s ! 
 
 B 2 Thee 
 
1 6 
 
 'Vhtt^ Perintosh! O sadly lost! 
 Scotland lament frae coast to coast I 
 Now colic grips, an' barkin hoast 
 
 May kill us a'; 
 For loyal Forbea' chartered bonst 
 
 Is ta'en awa! 
 
 Thae curst horse-leeches o' th' Excise, 
 Wha mak the Whisky stells their prize! 
 Haud up thy han', Deil! ance, twice, thrice I 
 
 There, seize the blinkers! 
 An' bake them up in brunstane pies 
 
 For poor d — n'd drinkers. 
 
 Fortune! if thou'Il but gie me still 
 Hale breeks, a scone, zn\ Whisky gilly 
 An' rowth o' rhyme to rave at will, 
 
 Tak' a' the rest, , 
 An' deal't about as thy blind skill 
 
 Directs thee best. 
 
 THE 
 
17 
 
 tkTe author's 
 EARNEST CRY AND PRAYER] 
 
 TO THE SCOTCH REPRESENTATtV-ES IN THlb 
 iiOUSE OF COMMONS. 
 
 J>earcst of DhiiUatknf last a^id test/ — — 
 — — —How art thou lat! 
 
 PARODY ON MiLTO>r, 
 
 X E Irish Lordsj ye Knights an' Squires, 
 Wha represent our brughs an' shires, 
 An' doucely manage our afFairs 
 
 In parliament. 
 To you a simple Poet's prayers 
 
 Are humbly sent. 
 
 B 3 Alas! 
 
 t This was wrote before the k€i anent the Scotch Distil- 
 kries, cf session 17865 for which Scotland and the Author 
 return their most grateful thanks. 
 
i8 
 
 Alas! my roupet Muse is hearse! 
 
 Your Honors heart wi' grief ^twad pierce^ 
 
 To see her sittin on her a — 
 
 Low i' the dust. 
 An' scriechin out prosaic verse, 
 
 An' like to burst! 
 
 Tell them wha hae the chief direction, 
 Scotland an' me^s in gteat affliction, 
 E'er sin they laid that curst restriction 
 
 On Aquavit ^e ; 
 An' rouse them up to strong conviction. 
 
 An' move their pity; 
 
 Stand forth, an' tell yon Premier Touth^ 
 
 The honest, open, naked truth t 
 
 Tell him o' mine an' Scotland's drouth, 
 
 His servants humbler 
 The muckle devil blaw ye south. 
 
 If ye dissemble! 
 
 Does ony great man glunch an' gloom*, 
 Speak out, an' never fash your thumb! 
 Let posts an' pensions sink or soom 
 
 Wi' them wha grant 'em: 
 If honestly they canna come. 
 
 Far better want 'cm. 
 
 In 
 
»9 
 
 In gath'rin' votes you were na slack; 
 Now stand as tightly by your tack; 
 Ne'er claw your lug, an' fidge your back. 
 
 An- hum an' haw; 
 But raise your arm, an' tell your cract 
 
 Before them a'. 
 
 Paint Scotland greeting owre her thrissle^^ 
 Her mutchkin stoup as toom's a whissle; 
 And d-mn'd Excisemen in a bussle, 
 
 Seizin' a Su//^ 
 Triumphant crushin't like a m.usseL 
 
 Or lampit shelL 
 
 Then on the tither hand present her, 
 A blackguard Smuggler right behlnt her^ 
 An' cheek-for-chow, a chuffie Vintner, 
 
 Colleaguing join. 
 Picking her pouch as bare as. Winter,. 
 
 Of a' kind coin* 
 
 Is there, that bears the nam.e o' Scofy 
 But feels his heart's bluid rising hot. 
 To see his poor auld IMither's j>^/, 
 
 Thus dung in staves, 
 An' plunder'd o' her hindmost groat 
 
 By gallows knaves ? 
 
 AlasF 
 
20 
 
 Alas! Fm bat a nameless wight, 
 Trode i' the mire out o' sight! 
 But cou'd I like Montgonfries fight, 
 
 Or gab like Bo swells 
 There's some sark-necks I wad draw tightjr 
 
 An' tie some hose welL- 
 
 God bless your Honors^, can ye see% 
 The kind^ auld cantie Carlin greet. 
 An' no get warmly to your feet, 
 
 An' gar them hear it. 
 An' tell them wi' a patriot-heat. 
 
 Ye winna bear it! 
 
 Some o' you nicely ken the laws. 
 To round the period an' pause. 
 An' wi' rhetoric clause on clause 
 
 To mak harangues •, 
 Then echo thro' Saint Stephen's wa*s 
 
 Auld Scotland's wrangs^ 
 
 Dempster y a true blue Scot I'se warran;, 
 Thee^ aith-detesting, chaste Kilkerran; 
 An' that glib-gabbct Highland Baron, 
 
 The Laird o' Graham;, 
 An' anC; a chap that's d-mn'd auldfarran,. 
 
 Dundas his name. 
 
 Erskinem 
 
21 
 
 ^rskim^ a spunkie Norland billie; 
 True Campbells y Frederick an' Hay; 
 An' Livi/igstoney the bauld Sir Willie; 
 
 An' monie ithers, 
 Wham auld Demosthenes or Tujly 
 
 Might own fots brithers* 
 
 Arouse, my boys ! exert your mettle. 
 To getauld Scotland back her kettle: 
 Or faith! I'll wad my new pleugh-pettle^ 
 
 Ye'Il see't or lang, 
 She'll teach yoii, wi' a reekin whittle^ 
 
 Anither sang. 
 
 This while she's been in crankoiis mood, 
 Her lost Militia fir'd her bluid ^ 
 (Deil na they never mair do guidj 
 
 Play'd her that pliskie!) 
 An' now she's like to rin red-v/ud 
 
 About her "Whisky. 
 
 An' L — d, if ance they pit her till't. 
 Her tartan petticoat she'll kilt, 
 An' durk.an' pistpl at her belt. 
 
 She'll tak the streets. 
 An' rin her whittle to the hilt 
 
 r the first she meets! 
 
 Tor 
 
22 
 
 For G-d sake, Sirs! then speak her fair^. 
 An' straik her cannie wi' the hair. 
 An* to the muckle house repair, 
 
 Wi' instant speedy. 
 An' strive^ wi' a' your wit an' lear, 
 
 To get remcad. 
 
 Yon ill- tongu'd tinkler, Charlie Foic^ 
 May taunt you wi' his jeers an' mocks; 
 But gie him't het, my hearty cocks ! 
 
 E'en cowe the caddiei ■ 
 An' send him to his dicing box 
 
 An' sportin lady. 
 
 Tell yon guld bluid o' auld -B^^^wwdJrl's 
 I'll be his debt twa mashlum bonnocks, 
 An' drink his health in auld Nanse Tinnock's'^: 
 
 Nine times a-week. 
 If he some scheme, like tea an' winnocks^, 
 
 Wad kindly seek. 
 
 Gould he some commutation broach, 
 I'll pledge my aith in guid braid Scotch, 
 He need na fear their foul reproach 
 Nor erudition. 
 
 Yon 
 
 I A worthy old hoftefs of the Author's in Mauchliac, where 
 he fometimes ftudles politics over a gUfs of gude auld Scakh- 
 
23 
 
 Ton mixtie-maxtie, queer hotch-potcli, 
 The Coalition^ 
 
 Auld Scotland has a raucle tongue; 
 She's just a devil wi* a rung; 
 An' if she promise auld or young 
 
 To tak their part, 
 Tho' by the neck -she should be strung, 
 
 She'll no desert. 
 
 An^ now ye chosen Five^and^Fortyy 
 iVIay still your Mither's heart support ye; 
 Then, though a Minister grow dorty. 
 
 An' kick your place, 
 Ye'U snap your fingers, poor an' hearty. 
 
 Before his face. 
 
 God bless your Honors a' your days, 
 Wi' sowps o' kail an' brats o' claise. 
 In spite o' a the thievish kaes 
 
 That haunt St. jamkW 
 Your humble Poet sings an' prays 
 
 While Rah his name is. 
 
 POSTSCRIPT. 
 
 Let half.starv*d slaves in warmer skies 
 See future wines, rich-clust'ring, rise; 
 
 Their 
 
24 
 
 Their lot auldScStland ne'er envied, 
 
 But blythe and frisky. 
 
 She eyes her freeborn, martial boys 
 
 Tak afF 'their Whisky. 
 
 What tho' their Phoebus kinder warms. 
 While Fragrance blooms and Beauty charms! 
 When wretches range, in famish'd swarms, 
 
 The scented groves, 
 Or hounded forth, dishonor arms 
 
 In hungry droves. 
 
 Their gun's a burden on their shoutheri 
 They downa bide the stink o' powther; 
 Their bauldest thought 's a hank'ring swither 
 
 To Stan' or rin. 
 Till skelp — a shot— they're aiF, a throuther, 
 
 To sav-e their skin. 
 
 But bring a Scotsman frae his hiil> 
 Clap in his cheek a Highland gill, 
 Say, such is royal George's will. 
 
 An' there's the foej 
 He has nae thought but how to kill 
 
 Twa at a blow. 
 
 Nae cauld, faint-hearted doubtings tease him; 
 Death cpmes! — v/i' fearless eye he sees him; 
 
 Wi* 
 
2J 
 
 Wi' bluidy hand a welcome gics hitfl^ 
 An* when he fa's. 
 
 His latest draught o' breathin lea'es him 
 In faint huzzas. 
 
 Sages their solemn een may steek. 
 An' raise a philosophic reek. 
 An' physically causes seek, 
 
 In clime and season | 
 But tell me Whisky's name in Greek, f 
 
 Til tell the reason. 
 
 Scotland, my auld, respected Mither! 
 Tho' whyles ye moistify your leather. 
 Till whare ye sit, on craps o' heather. 
 Ye tine youT dam; 
 Freedom and Whisky gaiag thegither, 
 
 Tak aff your dram ! 
 
 TH£ 
 
26 
 THE 
 
 HOLYFAIR*. 
 
 A robe of seeming truth and trust 
 
 Hid crafty Observations 
 And secret hung, -with poisorCd crusty 
 
 ^he dirk of Defamation : 
 A mask that like the gorget showed. 
 
 Dye-varying on the pigeon; ^ 
 
 Andftr a mantle large and broad. 
 
 He -wrapt him in Religion. 
 
 HYPOCRISY A-LA-MOOJU 
 
 U PON a simmer Sunday morn, 
 
 "When Nature's face is fair, 
 I walked forth to view the corn. 
 
 An' snufF the caller air. 
 The rising sun ov/re Galston muir-s, 
 
 Wi' glorious light was glintin; 
 The hares were hirplin down the furs, 
 The lav'rocks they were chantin 
 
 Fu' sweet that day. 
 
 As 
 
 * Holy Fair is a common phrase in the West of Scotland 
 for a facramental occafion. 
 
27 
 
 11. 
 
 As Iightsomely I glowr'd abroad. 
 
 To see a scene sae gay, 
 Three hizzies, early at the road. 
 
 Cam skelpin up the way: 
 Twa had manteeles o' dolefu' black, 
 
 But ane wi' lyart Hning; 
 The third, that gaed a-wee a-back. 
 
 Was in the fashion shining, 
 
 Fu' gay that day. 
 
 IIL 
 
 The twa appeared like sisters twin. 
 
 In feature, form an' claes ! 
 Their visage withered, lang an' thin. 
 
 An' sour as ony slaeSj 
 The third cam up, hap-step-an'-lowp. 
 
 As light as ony lambie. 
 An' wi' a curchie low did stoop. 
 
 As soon as e'er she saw me, 
 
 Fu' kind that day, 
 
 IV. 
 
 Wi' bonnet afF, quoth I, ^ Sweet lass, 
 
 < I think ye seem to ken me; 
 « I'm sure I've seen that bonnie face, 
 
 * But yet I canna name ye.' 
 
 C 2 Quo* 
 
2t 
 
 QiiG* slie^ an' laiighin as she spak,. 
 
 An' taks me by the hands, 
 ^ Ye, for my sake, hae gi'en the feck 
 
 ^ Of a' the ten commands 
 
 ^ A screed some day;* 
 
 V. 
 
 < My name is i^w«— your cronie dear^ 
 
 « The nearest friend ye hae; 
 
 < An' this is Superstitidn here, 
 ' An' that's Hypocrisy. 
 
 ^ I'm gaun to •^'^^****^'^ Holy Fair^ 
 ^ To spend an hour in daffin : 
 
 « Gin ye'U go there, yon runkl'd pair, 
 6 We, will get famous laughin 
 
 « At them this day/ 
 
 VI- 
 
 Quoth I, * With a' my heart, I'll do't^. 
 
 < rU get my Sunday's saxk on, 
 « An' meet you on the holy spot; 
 
 « Faith we'se hae fine remarkin!' 
 Then I gaed hame at erowdie-time. 
 
 An' soon I made me ready ; 
 For roads were clad, frae side to side, 
 
 Wi' monie a wearie body, 
 
 In droves that day. 
 
 Here 
 
29 
 VIL 
 
 Here farmers gash, In ridin gralth, 
 
 Gaed hoddin by their cotters; 
 There, swankies young, in braw brald-claith, 
 
 Are springin o'er the gutters. 
 The lasses, skelpin barefit, thrang, 
 
 In silks an' scarlets glitter; 
 Wi' sweet-milk cheesey in monie a whang, 
 
 An' far/s bak'd wi' butter 
 
 Fu' crump that day. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 When by the plate we set our nose, 
 
 Weel heapit up wi' ha'pence, 
 A greedy glowr Black Bonnet throws. 
 
 An' we maun dra\v our tippence. 
 Then in we go to sec the sliov/, 
 
 On ev'ry side they're gathrin; 
 Some carrying dales, some chairs an' stools. 
 
 An' some are busy blethrin 
 
 Right loud tliat day. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Here stands a shed to fend the show'rs, 
 
 An' screen our countra Gentry, 
 There, racer Jess, an' twa-three wh-res, 
 
 Are bllnkin at the entry. 
 
 C 3 Here 
 
30 
 
 Here sits ^xzw of tlttlin jades, 
 
 Wi' heaving breast and bare neck^ 
 
 An' there a batch o' wabster lads. 
 
 Blackguarding frae K^ • ck- 
 
 For/^w this day., 
 
 X. 
 
 Here some are thinkin on their sinsj. 
 
 An' some upo' their claesj 
 Ane curses feet that fyl'd his shins,, 
 
 Anither sighs an' prays: 
 On this hand sits a chosen swatch, 
 
 Wi' screw'd up grace-proud faces v^ 
 On that a set o' chaps at watch, 
 
 Thrang winkin on the lasses 
 
 To chairs that day« 
 
 XL 
 
 O happy is that man an' blest! 
 
 Nae wonder that it pride him! 
 Wha's ain dear lass, that he likes best^ 
 
 Comes clinkin down beside him! 
 Wi' arm repos'd on the chair back, 
 
 He sweetly does compose him; 
 Which, by degrees, slips round herneck^ 
 
 An's loof upon her bosom 
 
 Unkend that day. 
 
 Nn 
 
3 1 
 
 XIL 
 
 Now a* die congregation o'er 
 
 Is silent expectation; 
 For ****** speels the holy door^. 
 
 Wi' tidings o' d-mn-t— n. 
 Should HGrntey as in ancient daysy 
 
 'Mang sons o' G — present him,. 
 The vera sight o' ******'s face, 
 
 Ta's ain het hame had sent him 
 
 Wi' a fright that daf*'. 
 
 XIII.^ 
 
 Hear how he clears the points o' faith 
 
 Wi' rattlin an' thurnpin! 
 Now meekly calm, — now wild in wrath,% 
 
 He 's stampin an' he 's jumpin! 
 ^His lengthened chin, his turn'd-up snout^^ 
 
 His eldritch squeel and gestures, 
 G how they fire the heart devout, 
 
 Like cantharidian plasters, 
 
 On sic a day. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 But, hark! the tent has chang'd its voice j . 
 
 There's peace an' rest nae langer: 
 For a' the real judges rise, 
 
 Theycanna sit for anger. 
 
32 
 
 ***** opens out his cauld harangues^ 
 
 On practice and on morals; 
 An' afftlie godly pour in thrangs. 
 
 To gie the jars an' barrels 
 
 A lift that day*, 
 
 "What signilies his Barren shine. 
 
 Of moral pow'rs and reason? 
 His English style, an' gesture fine. 
 
 Are a' clean out o' season. 
 Like Socrates or Antonine^ 
 
 Or some auld pagan Heathen, 
 The moral man he does define, ' 
 
 But ne'er a word o' faith in 
 
 That's right that day. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 In guid time comes an antidote 
 
 Against sic poison'd nostrum;.: 
 For*******, frae the water-fity 
 . Ascends the holy rostrum : 
 See, up he's got the word o' G — , 
 
 An' meek an' mim has view'd it;. 
 While Common-Sense has ta'en the road. 
 
 An' aff,' an' up the Cowgate*, 
 
 Fast, fast, that day, 
 
 XVII 
 * A flreet io called, which, faces the Unt in ^— — , 
 
3^ 
 
 XVII. 
 
 Wee ******, niest the Guard relieves^. 
 
 An' Orthodoxy ralbles, 
 Tho' inhis heart he weel believes, 
 
 An' thinks it auld wives' fables: 
 But, faith! the birkie wants a Manae^, 
 
 So, cannily he hums them; 
 Altho' his carnal wit an' sense 
 
 Like hafflins-ways o'ercomes him 
 
 At times that day.. 
 
 XVIIL 
 
 Now but an' ben, the Change-hou^e fills^, 
 
 Wi' yill-caup Commentators: 
 Here's crying out for bakes and gills, 
 
 An' there the pint-stowp clatters; 
 While thick an' thrang, an' loud an' lang^, 
 
 Wi' Logic, an' wi' Scripture, 
 They raise a din, that, in the end, 
 
 Is like to breed a rupture 
 
 O' wrath that day. 
 
 XIX- 
 
 Eeeze me on Drink! it gies us mair 
 *1 han either School or College:. 
 
 It kindles Wit, it waukens Lair, 
 It pangs us fou o' Knowledge. 
 
 Bc't 
 
34 
 
 Be't whisky gill, or penny wKecp>, 
 
 Or ony iironger potion, 
 It never fails, on drinking deep> 
 
 To kittle up our notion 
 
 By night or day.. 
 
 XX- 
 
 The lads an* lasses, blythely bent 
 
 To mind baith saul an' body, 
 Sit round the table, weel content, 
 
 An' steer about the toddy. 
 On this ane's dress, an' that ane's leuk. 
 
 They're making observations; 
 While some are cozie i' the neuk, 
 
 An' formin assignations 
 
 To meet some day. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 But now the L — d's ain trumpet touts,.. 
 
 Till a' the hills are rairin. 
 An' echoes back return the shouts: 
 
 Blatk *^**** is na spairin: 
 His piercing words, like Highlan* swords. 
 
 Divide the joints an' marrow; 
 
 Hisi' 
 
35 
 
 HiS talk o' H-11, whare devils dwell, 
 Our vera sauls does harrow *, 
 
 Wi' fright that day* 
 
 XXIL 
 
 A Vast, unbottom'd, boundless pit, 
 
 Fiil'd fou o' lowin brunstane, 
 "Wha's ragin flame, an' scorchin heat. 
 
 Wad melt the hardest whun-stane! 
 The half asleep start up wi' fear. 
 
 An' think they hear it roar in. 
 When presently it does appear, 
 
 ^Twas but some neebor snorin 
 
 Asleep that day. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 ^Twad be owre iang a tale, to tell 
 
 How monie stories past. 
 An' how they crowded to the yill, 
 
 When they were a' dismist: 
 How drink gaed round, in cogs an* caups, 
 
 Amang the furms and benches 5 
 An' cheese an' bread, frae women's laps, 
 
 Was dealt about in lunches, 
 
 An' dawds that day- 
 
 XXIVo 
 
 * Shakefpeare's Hamlet. 
 
XXIV. 
 
 In comes a gaucie, gash Guidwlfe^ 
 
 An' sits down by the fire, 
 Syne draws hef kebbuck an' her knlfe^ 
 
 The lasses they are shyer. 
 The auld Guidmen, about the grace^ 
 
 Frae side to side they bother. 
 Till some ane by his bonnet lays. 
 
 An' gi'es them 't like a tether, 
 
 Fu' lang that day. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 Waesucks! for him that gets nae lass, 
 
 Or lasses that hae naething ! 
 Sma' need has he to say a grace. 
 
 Or melvie his braw claithing! 
 O Wives be mindfu', ance yoursel 
 
 How bonnie lads ye wanted. 
 An' dinna, for a kebbuck-heel. 
 
 Let lasses be affronted 
 
 On sic a day* 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 Now Cltnhumhelly wi' rattlin tOT^, 
 
 Begins to jow an' croonj 
 Some swagger hame, the best they do^^, 
 
 Some wait the afternoon. 
 
 At 
 
At slaps the billies halt a blink, 
 
 Till lasses strip their shoon : 
 Wi' fai^h an' hope, an' love an' drini;. 
 
 They're a' in famous tune, 
 
 For crack that day, 
 
 XXVIL 
 
 How monie hearts this day converts 
 
 O' sinners and o' lasses ! 
 Their hearts o' ftane gin night are ganeji 
 
 As saft as ony flesh is. 
 There's some are fou o' love divine; 
 
 There's some are fou o'^ brandy j 
 An' monie jobs that day begin. 
 
 May end in houghmagandie 
 
 Some ither day* 
 
 D DEATH 
 
38 
 
 DEATH 
 
 AND 
 
 DOCTOR HORNBOOK, 
 
 A rnuE sroRT. 
 
 ••B^%<^%9fm t m 
 
 Dome books are lies frae end to end, 
 And some great lies were never penn'd: 
 Ev'n Ministers they hae been kenn'd. 
 
 In holy rapture, 
 A rousing whid, at times, to vend, 
 
 And nail't wi' Scripture, 
 
 But this that I am gaun to tell, 
 "Which lately on a night befel, 
 Is just as true's the Deil's in h 11, 
 
 Or Dublin city: 
 That e'er he nearer comes oursel 
 
 'S a muckle pity. 
 
 The 
 
39 
 
 The Clachan yill had made me canty, 
 
 I was na fou, but just had plenty; 
 
 1 stacher'd whyles, but yet took tent ay 
 
 To free the ditches; 
 An^ hiJIacks, stanes, an' bushes, kenn'd ay 
 
 Frae ghaists an' witches. 
 
 The rising Moon began to glowr 
 The distant Cumnock hills out-owre: 
 To count her horns, wi' a' my pow'r, 
 
 I set mysel; 
 But whether she had three or four, 
 
 I cou'd na tell. 
 
 I was come round about the hill, 
 And todlin down on Willie's milly 
 Setting my ftafr wu' a' my skill, 
 
 To keep me sicker; 
 Tho'- leeward whyles, against my will, 
 
 I took a bicker. ^ 
 
 I ihere wi* Something did forgather. 
 
 That pat me in an eerie swither; 
 
 An awfu' scythe, out-o^>^Te ae shouther, 
 
 Clear-dangling, hang; 
 J^ three-tae*d leister on the ither 
 
 Lay, large an' lang. 
 
 Its stature fecm'd lang Scotch ells twa, 
 The queerest shape that e*er I saw, 
 
 For 
 
40 
 
 For fienta wame ithadava-, 
 
 And then its slianks> 
 
 They were as thin, as shnrp an' sma* 
 
 As cheeks o' branks. 
 
 ^ Guid-een^ quo' I; « Friend hae ye been mawirii, 
 ' When ither folk are busy saw In* ?^ 
 It seemed to mak a kind^ o' stan', 
 
 But nae thing spakj. 
 At length, says I, ^ Friend^ v;hare ye gaun>, 
 
 « Will ye go b^ckf 
 
 It spak right howe^— ^ My name is Deaths 
 « But be na' fiey'd.'— Quoth I, « Guid faithl^ 
 « Ye're maybe come to stap my breath; 
 * But tent me billie; 
 
 * I red ye weel, tak care o' skaith, 
 
 < See there's a gully P 
 
 ^ Gudcinan,' quo' he^ * put up your whittle^ 
 
 * I'm no designed to try its mettle; 
 « But if I did, I wad be kittle 
 
 « To be mislear'd, 
 
 * I wad na mind it, no that spittle 
 
 « Out-owre my beard/ 
 
 < Weel> weel i' says I, < a bargain be't; 
 « Come, gies your hand, an' sae we're gree't; 
 
 * We'll 
 
 ** yh\t rencounter happened In 9fcd-t\me, i*)^^* 
 
41 
 
 *• We'll ease our shanks an' tak a seat, 
 
 « Come, gies your news*, 
 
 * This while * ye hae been mony a gate, 
 
 * At mony a house.' 
 
 * Ay, ay!' quo' he, an' shook his head, 
 « It's e'en a lang, lang time indeed 
 
 * Sin I began to nick the thread. 
 
 An' choke the breath: 
 
 * Folk maun do something for their bread, 
 
 « An' sae maun Death. 
 
 * Sax thousand years are near hand fled 
 ^.Sin I was to the hutching bred, 
 
 ^ An' mony a scheme in vain's been laid, 
 
 < To stap or scar me; 
 ^ Till ane Hornbooh^s f ta'en up the trade, 
 
 ' An' faith, he'll waur me* 
 
 ^ Ye ken Jock Hornbook i' the Clachan, 
 
 * Deil mak' his king's-hood in a spleuchan! 
 
 *' He's grown sae v/eel acquaint wi' BuchanX. 
 
 ^ An' ither chaps, 
 «^ The weans haud out their fingers laughin, 
 
 < And pouk my hips. 
 
 D 3 ' See, 
 
 • An epidemical fever was then raging in that country. 
 
 t This gentleman, Dr. Hordock, is, profefiionally, a brother 
 of the fovereign Order of the Ferula ; but, by intuition and 
 infpiration, is at once an Apothecary, Surgeon, anv.k Piiyfician. 
 
 t^Buchan's. Domeflic Medicine.- 
 
4i^ 
 
 « See, Here's a scythe, and there's a dart, 
 « They hae pierc'd mony a gallant heart; 
 « But Doctor Hornbook^ wi' his art, 
 
 * And cursed skill, 
 
 « Has made them baith no worth a f- — t, , 
 
 « D-~mn'dhaet they'll kill! 
 
 « 'T was but yestreen, nae farther gaen, 
 « I threw a noble throw at ane; 
 
 < Wi' less, I'm sure, I've hundreds slain;, 
 
 < But deil ma-care,, 
 « It just play'd dirl on the bane 
 
 < But didnaemair.^ 
 
 < Hornhooh was by, wi' ready art^- 
 
 < And had sae fortify'd the part, 
 
 * That when I looked to my dart, 
 
 * It was sae blunt, 
 
 ^ Fient haet o't wad hae pierc'd the heart 
 « Of a kail-runt. 
 
 * I drew my scythe in sic a fury, 
 
 * I nearhand cowpit wi' rhy hurry, 
 
 * But yet the bauld j^pothccary 
 
 < Withstood the shocks 
 ^ I might as weel hae try'd a quarry 
 
 ' O' hard whin rock. 
 
 ' Ev'n them he canna get attended/ 
 
 < Altho' their face he nt'cr had kend it^ 
 
 « Just 
 
43 
 
 r Just^ In a kail-blade, and send it, 
 
 « As soon's he smells't, 
 
 < Baith their disease, and what v/ill mend it,> 
 
 « At once he tells't. 
 
 f And then a' doctor's saws and whittles, . 
 « Of a' dimenfions, shapes, an' mettles, 
 
 < A' kinds o' boxes, mugs, an' bottles, 
 
 « He's sure to haes; 
 <* Their Latin names as fast he rattles-^ 
 « As AB a 
 
 ^ Calces o' fossilsj earth's^ and trees;; 
 
 < True Sal-marinum o' the seasj 
 ^ The Farina of beans and pease, 
 
 * He has't in plenty^;; 
 
 < Aqua-fontis, what you please, 
 
 * He can content ye.^ 
 
 * Forbye some new, uncommon weapons, . 
 
 * Urinus Spiritus of Capons; 
 
 *-~ Or Mite- horn shavings/ filings, scrapingS;> 
 
 « Distiird per se^ 
 « Sal-alkali o' Midge-tail-clippings, 
 
 * And mony mae.' 
 
 ^ Waesme for Johfiny Gedh HoIe\ now,' 
 Quoth I, ^ if that thae news be true ! 
 
 « His 
 
 t The grave-digger. 
 
44 
 
 * BTiS braw calf-ward whare gcs^ans grew^: 
 ' Sae v/hite and bonnie,. 
 
 ^ Nae doubt they'll rive it wi' the plew; 
 
 ^- Thcf 11 min Joiniel' 
 
 The creature grain'd an eldritch laugh. 
 And says, ^ Ye needna yoke the pleugh, 
 
 • Kirkyardswill soon be till'd eneugh, 
 
 ^ Tak ye nae fear: 
 
 * They'll a' be trench'd wi' mony a sheugh,, 
 
 * In twa-three year,. 
 
 ^ Wharel kill'd ane a fair strae death, 
 f^ Bv loss o' blood or want o' breath, 
 ^ This night Fm free to tak my aith, 
 
 * Thzt Hornbook's skilL 
 ^^ Has clad a score i' their last claith, 
 
 ^ By drap an' pilL 
 
 ^ An honest Wabster to his trade, 
 
 < Whase wife's twa nieves were scarce weelbred^, 
 
 < Gat tippence-worth to mend her head, 
 
 « When it was sair; 
 * The wife slade cannie to her bed, 
 
 < But ne'er spak mair. 
 
 < A countra Laird had ta'en the batts,> 
 ^ Or some curmurring in his guts, 
 
 ^ His only son for Honibook sets, 
 
 < An pays him well, 
 
 < The 
 
4S 
 
 « Tb.e lad, for twa guid gimmer-pets, 
 
 < Was Laird himsell 
 
 < A bonnie lass, ye kend her name, 
 
 * Some ill-brewn drink had hov'd her M^ame^ 
 
 * She trusts herself to hide the shame, 
 
 ^ In Hornbook'^ care;. 
 
 * Horn sent her aff to her kng hame, 
 
 < To hide it there. 
 
 * That's just a swatch o' HornbcoF^ way|, 
 « Thus- goes he on from day to day, 
 
 * Thus does he poison, kill, an' slay, 
 
 ^ An 's v/eel paid for 't^ 
 
 < Yet stops me o' my lawfu' prey, . 
 
 < Wi' his d-mn'd dirtr 
 
 < But, hark! I'll tell you of a plot, 
 
 * Tho' dinna ye be speakih o't*, 
 ^ Fll nail the self-conceited Sot, 
 
 ' As dead 's a herring. 
 
 * Niest time we meet, I'll wad a groat, 
 
 « He gets his fairin!' 
 
 But just as he began to tell. 
 
 The auld kirk-hammer strak the Bell 
 
 Some wee short hour ayont the tiva!^ 
 
 Which rais'd usbaith: 
 E took the way that pleas'd mysel, 
 
 And sae did Death. 
 
4^ 
 
 THE 
 
 RIGS ow AYR, 
 
 A POEM. 
 
 INSCRIBED TO J. B********^ ESQ. AY»^ 
 
 X HE simple Bard, rough at the rustic plough^ 
 Learning his tuneful trade from ev'ry bough; 
 The chanting linnet, or the mellow thrush, 
 Hailing the setting sun, sweet, in the green thorn bushy 
 The soaring lark, the perching red-breast shrill, 
 Or deep-tonM plovers, grey, wild-whistling o'er thehil^ 
 Shall he, nurst in the Peasant's lowly shed, 
 To hardy Independence bravely bred, 
 By early Poverty to hardship steel'd, 
 And train'd to arms in stern Misfortune's field; 
 Shall he be guilty of their hircHng crimes, 
 The servile, mercenary Swiss of rhymes ? 
 Or labour haid the panegyric close. 
 With all the venal* soul of dedicating Prose! 
 
 No!! 
 
47 
 
 No! though his artless strains he rudely sings, 
 And throws his hand uncouthly o'er the strings^ 
 He glows with all the spirit of the Bard, 
 Fame, honest fame, his great, his dear reward. 
 Still, if some Patron's gen'rous care he trace, 
 Skiirdin the secret, tobestow with grace; 
 WhenB*'^******^ befriends his humble name. 
 And hands the rustic stranger up to fame, 
 With heart-felt throes his grateful bosom swells, 
 The godlike bliss, to give, alone excels. 
 
 'Twas when the stacks get on their winter-hap, 
 And thack and rape secure the toil-won crap; 
 Potato-bings are snugged up frae skaith 
 Of coming Winter's biting, frosty breath; 
 The bees, rejoicing o'er their summer toils, 
 Unnumber'd buds an' fiow'rs' delicious spoils, 
 Seal'd up with frugal care in massive waxen piles. 
 Are doom'd by man, that tyrant o'er the weak, 
 The death o' devils smoor'd wi brimstone reek: 
 The thundering guns are heard on ev'ry side. 
 The wounded coveys, reeling, scatter wide ; 
 The feather'd field-mates, bound by Nature's tie. 
 Sires, mothers, children, in one carnage lie : 
 (What warm, poetic heart, but inly bleeds, 
 And execrates man's savage, ruthless deeds!) 
 Nae mair the flow'r in field or meadow springs; 
 Nae mair the grove with airy concert rings, 
 
 Except 
 
Except perliaps the Robin's whistling glee. 
 Proud o' the height o' some bit half-Iang tree: 
 The hoary morns precede the sunny days, *J 
 
 Mild, calm, serene, wide spreads the noon-tide blaze, i 
 While thick the gossamour waves wanton in the f 
 rays. J 
 
 ^Twas in that season, when a simple Bard, 
 Unknown and po'or, simplicity's reward, 
 Ae night, within the ancient brugh of ^yr. 
 By whim inspired, or haply prest wi' care. 
 He left his bed, and took his wayward rout, 
 And down by Simpson^ s^^ wheel'd the left about: 
 (Whether impell'd by all-directing Fate, 
 To witness v/hat I after shall narrate; 
 Or whether, rapt in meditation high. 
 He wander'd out he knew not where nor why). 
 The drowsy Dungeon^clock \ had number'd two. 
 And Wallace Toiv* r \ h.2idi sworn the fact was truci 
 The tide-swoln Frith, with sullen- sounding roar, 
 Through the still night dash*d hoarse along the shore: 
 All else was hush'd as Nature's closed e'e; 
 The silent moon shone high o'er tow'r and tree: 
 The chilly frost, beneath the silver beam. 
 Crept, gently-crusting, o'er the glittering stream. — 
 
 When, lo! on either hand the list'ning Bard, 
 The clanging sugh of whistling wings is heard; 
 
 Two 
 
 *A noted tavern at the Auld ^r/V end# 
 I The two steeples* 
 
49 
 
 Two dusky forms dart tliro' the midnight air, 
 •Swift as the Gos^ drives on the wheeling hare; 
 Ane on th' Au/d Brig his airy shape uprears, 
 The ither flutters o'er the risifig piers : 
 Our warlock Rhymer instantly descry'd 
 The Sprites that o'er the Brigs of Ayr preside. 
 (That Bards are second-sighted is nae joke, 
 And ken the lingo of the spiritual folk. 
 Fays, Spunkies, Kelpies, a', they can explain them, 
 And.ev'n the vera deils they hrawly ken them). 
 Auld Brig appear'd of ancient Pictish race. 
 The vera v/rinkles Gothic in his face: 
 He seem'd as he wi' Time had warstl'd lang, 
 Yet teughly doure, he bade an unco bang. 
 ■Ne%u Brig was buskit in a braw new coat. 
 That he, at Lon^on^ frae ane Adams ^ got; 
 In 's hand five taper staves as smooth 's a bead, 
 Wi' virls and whirlygigums at the head. 
 The Goth was stalking round with anxious search, 
 Spying the time-worn flaws In ev'ry arch; 
 It chanc'd his nev/^come neebor took his e'e^ 
 And e'en a vex'd and angry heart had he! 
 Wi' thieveless sneer to see his modish mien. 
 He, down the water, gles him this guideen — 
 
 AULD BRIG. 
 
 I doubt na, frlen', ye'U think ye're nae sheep-shank, 
 Ance ye were streekit o'er frae bank to bank! 
 
 E But 
 
 I The gos-liav/k, or falcon. 
 
But gin ye be a brig as aufd as me, 
 Tho' faith that day, I doubt, ye'U never see; 
 There ']! be, if that day come, I'll wad a boddlc> 
 Some fewer whigmeleeries in your noddle* 
 
 NEW BRIG. 
 
 Auld Vandal! ye but show your little mense. 
 Just much about it wi' your scanty sense; 
 Will your poor, narrow foot-path of a street. 
 Where twa wheel-barrows tremble when they meet. 
 Your ruin'd, formless bulk o' stane ari* lime. 
 Compare wi' bonnie Brigs o^ modern time? 
 There's men o' taste would tak the DucaUstream^^ , 
 Tho' they should cast the vera sark and swim. 
 E'er they would grate their feelings with the view 
 Of sic an u^ly, Gothic hulk as you. 
 
 AULD BRIG. 
 
 Conceited gowk! pufPd up wi' windy pride! 
 
 This mony a year I've stood the flood an' tide; 
 
 And tho' wi' crazy eild I'm sair forfairn, 
 
 rU be a Brig J when ye're a shapeless cairn ! 
 
 As yet ye little ken about the matter. 
 
 But twa- three winters will inform ye better. 
 
 When heavy, dark, continued, a'-day rains, 
 
 Wi' deep'ning deluges o'crflow the plains; 
 
 When from the hills where springs the brawling Cw7, 
 
 Or stately Lugar^s mossy fountains boil. 
 
 Or 
 
 * A noted ford, ju3t Jibove the Auld Brig^ 
 
51 
 
 0r where the Gr^^^/^r;l winds his moorland course, 
 Or haunted Garpal * draws his feeble source, 
 Arous'd by blust'ring winds an' spotting thowes. 
 In mony a torrent down the sna-broo rowes; 
 While crashing ice, borne on the roaring speat. 
 Sweeps dams, an' mills, an' brigs, a'to the gate; 
 And from Glenbuck\y down to the Rattmi-'keyXy 
 Auld jiyrh just one lengthened, tumbling sea; 
 Then down ye'll hurl, — deil nor ye never rise! 
 ^ And dash the gumHe jaups up to the pouring skies* 
 A lesson sadly teaching, to your cost. 
 That Architecture's noble art is lost! 
 
 NEW BRIG. 
 
 Fine Architecture^ trowth, I needs must say ^t o'tf 
 The L — d be thankit that we've tint the gate o't ! 
 Gaunt, ghastly, ghaist-alluring edifices. 
 Hanging, with threat'ning jut, like preclpices|^ 
 ©'er-arching mouldy, gloom-rinspiring coves. 
 Supporting roofs fantastic, stony groves: 
 Windows and doors', in nameless sculptures drest, 
 With order, symmetry, of taste unblest; 
 Forms like some bedlam-Statuary's dream, 
 The craz'd creations of misguided whim ; 
 
 E z Forms 
 
 • The banks of Garpal Water is one of the few places in the 
 West of Scotland, where those fancy fearing beings, known 
 by the name of GhaistSy still continue pertinaciously to inhabit. 
 
 t The source of the river of Ayr. 
 
 t A sm-all ianding-placc above the large key. 
 
52 • 
 
 Forms might be worshipp'd on the bended knee, '^■ 
 
 And still the second dread command be free, 5^. 
 
 Their likeness is not found on earth, in air, or sea. J 
 
 Mansions that would disgrace the building taste 
 
 Of any mason reptile, bird or beast j 
 
 Fit only for a doited Monkish race, 
 
 Or frosty maids forsworn the dear embrace, 
 
 Or Cuifs of latter times, wha held the notion 
 
 That sullen gloom was sterling true devotion; 
 
 Fancies that our guid Brugh denies protection. 
 
 And soon may they expire, unblest wi' resurrection!- 
 
 AULD BRIG. 
 
 O ye, my dear-remember'd, ancient yealings, 
 "Were ye but here to share my w^ounded feelings! 
 Ye worthy Proveses^ an' mony a Bailiey 
 Wha in the paths o' righteousness did toll ay; 
 Ye dainty Deacons^ an' ye douce Conveeners^ 
 To whom our moderns ar€ but causey cleaners;; 
 Ye godly Councils wha hae blest this town; 
 Ye godly Brethren of the sacred gown, 
 Wha meekly gae your hurdles to the s miters ; 
 And (what would now be strange) yc godly TFriters: 
 A' ye douce folk I've born aboon the broo, 
 Were ye but here, what would ye say or do ! 
 How would your spirits groan in deep vexation^ 
 To see each melancholy alteration; 
 And agonizing, curse the time and place 
 When ye begat the base dcgen'rate race! 
 
 Nae 
 
S3 
 
 Nae langer Rev'rend Men, their country's glory, 
 
 In plain braid Scots hold forth a plain braid story ! 
 
 Nae langer thrifty Citizens, an' douce. 
 
 Meet owre a pint, or in the Council-house; 
 
 But staumrel, corky-headed, graceless Gentry, 
 
 The herryment and ruin of the country; 
 
 Men, three-parts made by Taylors and by Barbers, 
 
 Wha waste your weel-hain'd gear on d ^dnew Brigs 
 
 and Harbours! 
 
 NEW BRIG. 
 
 Now baud you there! for faith yeVe said enough^ 
 
 And muckle mair than ye can mak to through. 
 
 As for your Pries thoodj I shall say but little. 
 
 Corbies zxid Clergy are a shot right kittle: 
 
 But, under favour o' your langer beard. 
 
 Abuse o' Magistrates might weel be spar'd: 
 
 To liken them to your auld-warld squad, 
 
 I must needs say, comparisons are odd. 
 
 In Ayr^ Wag- wits nae mair can haa a handle 
 
 To mouth * a Citizen,' a term o' scandal: 
 
 Nae mair the Council waddles down the street. 
 
 In all the pomp of ignorant conceit; 
 
 Men wha grew wise priggin owre hops an' raisins^ 
 
 Or gathered lib'ral views in Bonds and Seisins, 
 
 If haply Knowledge, on a random tramp. 
 
 Had shor'd them with a glimmer of his lamp. 
 
 And would to common-sense, for once betray'd them, 
 
 Plain, dull Stupidity stept kindly into aid them. 
 
 E 3 What 
 
54 
 
 WKat fartHer clishmaclaver might been faid. 
 What bloody wars, if Sprites had blood to (hedy 
 No man can tell; but all before their sight, 
 A fairy train appeared in order bright: 
 Adown the glittering ilream they featlydanc'd; 
 Bright to the moon their various dresses glanc'dj^. 
 They footed o'er the wat'ry glass so- neat. 
 The infant ice scarce bent beneath their feet: 
 While arts of Minstrelsy among them rung, 
 And soul ennobling Bards heroic ditties sung. 
 O had M^Lauchlan *, thairm^inspiring Sage, "| 
 
 Been there to hear this heavenly band engage, » 
 
 When thro' his dear Strathspeys they bore with f 
 Highland rage; J 
 
 Or when they struck old Scotia's melting air&, 
 The lover's raptur'd joys or bleeding cares; 
 How would his Highland lug been nobler fir'd. 
 And ev'n his matchless hand with finer touch inspir'd! 
 No guess could tell what instrument appear'd, 
 But all the soul of Music's self was heard ; 
 Harmonious concert rung in every part. 
 While simple melody pour'd moving on the heart*^ 
 
 The Genius of the Stream in front appears, 
 A venerable Chief advanc'd in years; 
 
 His 
 
 * A well known performer of Scottifh mufic on the violim 
 
JIis Hoary head with water-hlies crown'd, 
 His manly leg with garter tangle bound. 
 Next came the loveliest pair in all the ring, 
 Sweet Female Beauty hand in hand with Springs- 
 Then crown'd with flow'ry hay, came Rural Joy, 
 And Summer, with his fervid-beaming eye: 
 All-chearing Plenty, with her flowing horn, 
 Led yellow Autumn wreath'dwith nodding corn; 
 Then Winter's time-bleach'd locks did hoary show%). 
 By Hospitality with cloudless brow. 
 Next follow'd Courage with his martial stride. 
 From where the Fea/ wild- woody coverts hide; 
 Benevolence, with mild, benignant air,^ 
 A female form, came from the tow'rs of Stair: 
 Learning and Worth in equal measures trode, 
 From simple Catrine^ their long-lov'd abode: 
 Last, white-rob'd Peacc,xrown'd with a hazle wreathi^ 
 To rustic Agriculture did bequeath 
 The broken, iron instruments of death; 
 At fight of whom our Sprites forgat their kindling 
 wrath. 
 
 'THB 
 
56 
 
 THE 
 
 0RDIN ATIOK 
 
 l^orfenfe they little owe to frugal Heav^n.'-^ 
 To^kafe the Mob, they hide the little gtv'n* 
 
 I. 
 
 IviLMARNOCK Wabstcrs fidge an' claw,^ 
 
 An' pour your creeshie nations j 
 An' ye wha leather rax an' draw, 
 
 Of a' denominations', 
 Swith to the Laigh Kirky anc an' z% 
 
 An' there tak up your stations j 
 Then afF to B'-gh — 's in a raw. 
 
 An' pour divine libations 
 
 For joy this day. 
 
 IIv 
 
 Curst Common-sense, that imp o' h-11, 
 Cam in wi' Maggie Lauder^:; 
 
 But 
 
 t Alluding to a fcoffing ballad which was made on the ad- 
 miflion of the late Reverend and worthy Mr. L— — — — to 
 the Laigh Kirk, 
 
ST 
 
 But O******* aft made her yell, 
 An' R***** salrmisca'd her^ 
 
 This day M^******* taks the flail. 
 An' he's the boy will blaud her! 
 
 He'll clap a shangan on her tail, 
 An' let the bairns to daud her 
 
 Wi' dirt this. day^. 
 
 IIL 
 
 Mak haste an- turn king David owre 
 
 An' lilt wi' holy clangorj 
 O' double verse come gie usfour. 
 
 An' skirl up the Bangor: 
 This day the Kirk kicks up a stoure, 
 
 Nae mair the knaves shall wrang her^. 
 For Heresy is in her pov/'r. 
 
 And gloriously she'll whang her 
 
 Wi' pith this day.. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Come, let a proper text be read. 
 An' touch it at afFwi' vigour. 
 
 How gracekss ii^;72 f leugli at his Dad, 
 Which made Canaan a niger; 
 
 Or § Phineas drove the murdering blade^ 
 , Wi' wh-re-abhorring rigour 5 
 
 t Genefis, ch. ix. vcr. 22. 
 § Numbers, ch. xxv. v. 8. 
 
 Or 
 
5^ 
 
 Or Zipporah f , the scauldin jad. 
 Was like a bluidy tiger 
 
 r th' inn that dap 
 
 V. 
 
 There, try his mettle on the creed. 
 
 And bind him down wi' caution, 
 That stipend is a carnal weed 
 
 He taks but for the fashion ; 
 And gie him o'er the flock, to feed„ 
 
 And punish each transgression; 
 Especial, rams that cross the breed, 
 
 Gie them sufficient threshin, 
 
 Spare them nae day. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Now auld KilmarnGck cock thy tail, 
 
 And toss thy horns fu' canty; 
 Nae mair thou'lt rowte out-owre the dale. 
 
 Because thy pasture's scanty; 
 For lapf u*s large o' gospel kail 
 
 Shall fill thy crib in plenty. 
 An' runts o^ grace the pick and wale/. 
 
 No gi'en by way o' dainty, 
 
 But iika day. 
 
 vm 
 
 t Exodus, ch. iv. vcr. 25« 
 
59 
 
 VII. 
 
 Nae mair by BabeTs streams we'll weep, 
 
 To think upon our Ziori; 
 And hing our fiddles up to sleep. 
 
 Like baby-clouts a-dryin; 
 Come, screw the pegs wi* tunefu' cheep, 
 
 And o'er the thairms be tryin; 
 Oh, rare] to see our elbucks wheep. 
 
 And a' like lamb-tails flyin 
 
 Fu' fast this day! 
 
 VIIL 
 
 Lang Patronage y wi' rod o' airn, 
 
 Has shor'd the Kirk's undoin, 
 As lately F-nw-^ck^ sair forfairn. 
 
 Has proven to its ruin ; 
 Our Patron, honest man! Glencairn, , 
 
 He saw mischief was brewin; 
 And like a godly elect bairn, 
 
 He's wal'd us out a true ane, 
 
 And sound this day. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Now R*****^**^ harangue nae mair. 
 But steek your gab for ever: 
 
 Or try the wicked town of A**, 
 For there they'll think you clever: 
 
 Or 
 
6o 
 
 Dr, riae reflection on your leaf. 
 Ye may commence a Shaver; 
 
 Or to the N-th--rt-^n repair, 
 And turn a Carpet-weaver 
 
 AfF-hand this day* 
 
 M***** and you were just a match, 
 
 We never had sic twa drones: 
 Auld Hornie did the Laigh Kirk watch^ 
 
 Just like a winkin baudrons: 
 And ay he catch'd the tithqr wretch. 
 
 To fry them in his caudrons: 
 But now his Honour maun detach, 
 
 Wi' a' his brimstone squadrons. 
 
 Fast, fast, this day. 
 
 [L 
 
 See, see auld Orthodoxy's faes 
 
 She's swingein thro' the city; 
 Hark, hew the nine-taird cat she plays! 
 
 I vow its unco pretty-: 
 There, Learning, with his Greekish face, 
 
 Grunts out some Latin ditty 5 
 And Common Sense is gaun, she says. 
 
 To mak to Jamie Beattie 
 
 Her plaint tliis day% 
 
 xir. 
 
6i 
 
 XII. 
 
 But there's Morality himsel. 
 
 Embracing all opinions ; 
 Hear, how he gles the tither yell. 
 
 Between his twa companions; 
 See, how she peels the skin an' fell, 
 
 As ane were peelin onions! 
 Now there, they're packed aff to hell. 
 
 And banish'd our dominions, 
 
 Henceforth this day. 
 
 XIIL 
 
 O happy day! rejoice! rejoice! 
 
 Come bouse about the porter! 
 Morality's demure decoys 
 
 Shall here nae mair find quarter; 
 ]y[c****##*^ R###**^ are the boys 
 
 That Heresy can torture^; 
 They'll gie her on a rape a hoyse, 
 
 And -cow her measure shorter 
 
 By th' head some day, 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Come, bring the tidier mutchkin in. 
 And here's, for a conclusion. 
 
 To 
 
62 
 
 To ev'ry New-light f mother's son. 
 From this time forth, Confusion: 
 
 If mair they deave us with their din. 
 Or Patronage intrusion. 
 
 We'll light a spunk, and, ev'ry skin. 
 We'll rin them aiF in fusion 
 
 Like oil, some day, 
 
 THE 
 
 CALF. 
 
 rO THE REV. MR 
 
 On his Texfy Mala c hi, ch. iv. ver. a. " And they shall g© 
 ** forth, audgrowup, like calves of th€ stall." 
 
 IvIGHTSir! your textPll prove it true, 
 
 Though Heretics may laugh; 
 Tor instance, there's yoursel just now, 
 
 God knows, an unco Calf J 
 
 And 
 
 I Ke-w-Ught is a cant phrase, in the West of Scotland, for 
 those religious opinions which Dr. Taylor of Norwich has 
 <ief ended so strenuously. 
 
63 
 
 Aiid should some Patron be so kind. 
 
 As bless^^ you wi' a kirk, 
 r doubt na, Sir, but then we'll find^ 
 
 Ye're still as great a Stirk. 
 
 But, if the Lover's raptur'd hour 
 
 Shall ever be your lot, 
 Forbid it> ev'ry heav'niy PowV, 
 
 You e'er should be a StotJ 
 
 Tho', when some kind, connubial Dear^ 
 
 Your but-and-ben adorns. 
 The like has been that you may wear 
 
 A noble head of horns. 
 
 And in your lug, most rev'rend J — -- 
 To hear you roar and rowte. 
 
 Few men o' sense will doubt your claims- 
 To rank amang the nowte. 
 
 And when ye're number'd wi' the dead, 
 
 Below a grassy hillock, 
 Wi' justice they may mark your head— — 
 
 « Here lies a famous Bullock I^ 
 
 F ^ ADDRESS 
 
64 
 
 A D D R E S S 
 
 TO THE 
 
 D E I L. 
 
 Prince / Chief of many throned Poiv^rSi 
 That led tF embattled Seraphim to w^r— 
 
 MILTON* 
 
 kJ Thouf whatever title suit thee> 
 Auld Hornie, Satan, Nick, or Clootie, 
 Wha in yon cavern grim an' sootie, 
 
 Clos'd under hatches, 
 Spairges about the brunstane cootie, 
 
 To scaud poor wretches ! 
 
 Hear me, auld Hangle^ for a wee, 
 An' let poor damned bodies be; 
 I'm sure sma' pleasure it can gie, 
 
 Ev'n to a deily 
 To skelp an' scaud poor dogs like me, 
 
 An' hear us squeel! 
 
 Great 
 
6s 
 
 Great Is thy- powV, an' great thy fame ; 
 
 Far kend an' noted is thy name ; 
 
 Arf though yon lowin heugh's thy hame. 
 
 Thou travels far^ 
 An' faith ! thou's neither lag nor lame, 
 
 Nor blate nor scaur* 
 
 Whylesj rangin like a roarin lion, 
 For prevj a' holes an' corners tryin; 
 Wliyles, on the strong-wing'd tempest flyin^ 
 
 Tirling the kirks; 
 Whyles, in the human bosom pryin, 
 
 Unseen thou lurks^ 
 
 I- ve heard my rev'rend Grannie say. 
 In lanely glens ye like to stray; 
 Or where auld-ruin'd castles, gray, 
 
 Nod to the moon. 
 Ye fright the nightly wand'rer's way, 
 
 Wi' eldritch croon. 
 
 When twilight did my Graimie summon 
 To say her pray'rs, douce, honesi: woman f 
 Aft yont the dyke she's heard you bummin,, 
 
 Wi' eerie drone; 
 Or, rustlin, thro' the boortries comin, 
 
 Wi' heavy groan. 
 
 Ae dreary, windy, winter night, 
 
 The stars shot down wi' sklentin light, 
 
 r 3 wi^ 
 
66 
 
 Wi' you, mysel, I gat a fright, 
 
 Ayont the lough: 
 
 Ye, like a rash-buss, stood in sight, 
 
 Wi' waving sugh. 
 
 The cudgel in my neive did shake, 
 Each bristl'd hair stood like a stake. 
 When, wi' an eldritch, stoor quaick, quaickj^ 
 
 Amang the springs, 
 Awa ye squatter'd, like a drake. 
 
 On whistling wings. 
 
 Let warlocks grim, an* withered iags^ 
 Tell how wi' you on ragweed nags. 
 They skim the muirs, an' dizzy crags, 
 
 Wi' wicked speed; 
 And In kirk-yards renew their leagues, 
 
 Owre howkit dead. 
 
 Thence countra wives, wi' toil an' pain, 
 May plunge an' plunge the kirn in vain; 
 For, Oh! the yellow treasure's taen 
 
 By witching skill; 
 An' dawtit, twal-pint Ha^vkie's gaen 
 
 As yell's the Bill. 
 
 Thence mystic knots mak great abuse, 
 On young Guidmen, fond, keen, an' crouse; 
 When the best wark-lume i' the house, 
 By cantraip wit, 
 
 Is 
 
^1 
 
 Is instant made no worth a louse, 
 Just at the bit. 
 
 When thowes dissolve the snawy hoord. 
 An' float the jinglin icy-boor d. 
 Then Water^kelpies haunt the foord. 
 
 By your direction. 
 An' nighted Trav'Uers are allur'd 
 
 To their destruction* 
 
 An' aft your moss-traversing Spunkies 
 Decoy the wight that late an' drunk is: 
 The bleezin, curst, mischievous monkies 
 
 Delude his eyes. 
 Till in some miry slough he sunk is. 
 
 Ne'er mair to rise* 
 
 When Masons mystic word zn^ grtp^ 
 In storms an' tempests raise you up. 
 Some cock or cat your rage maun stop. 
 
 Or, strange to tell! 
 The youngest Brother ye wad whip 
 
 AfFstraught to h-11. 
 
 Lang syne, in Eden^s bonnie yard. 
 When youthfu' lovers first were pair'd. 
 An' all the Soul of Love they shar'd. 
 
 The raptur'd hour. 
 Sweet on the fragrant, flov^'ry swaird. 
 
 In shady bow'r: 
 
 Then 
 
68 
 
 Then you, ye auld, snick-drawing dogf 
 
 Ye came to Paradise incog. 
 
 An' play'd a man a cursed brogue, 
 
 (Black be your fa' !^ 
 An' gied the infant warld a shog, 
 
 < Maist ruin'd a'. 
 
 D'ye mind that day, when in a bizz^ 
 Wi' reekit duds, an' reestit gizz. 
 Ye did present your smoutie phiz, 
 
 'Mang better folk. 
 An' sklented on the man of Uz 
 
 Your spitefu' joke? 
 
 An' how ye gat him i' your thrall, 
 An' brak him out o' house an' hall, 
 While scabs and blotches did him gall, 
 
 Wi' bitter claw. 
 An' lows'd his ill-tongu'd, wicked Scawlji^ 
 
 Was warft ava ? 
 
 But a' your doings to rehearse. 
 Your wily snares an' fechtin fierce, 
 Sin that day Michael"^ Aid. you pierce, 
 
 Down to this time. 
 Wad ding a' Lallan tongue, or Erse, 
 
 In prose or rhyme. 
 
 And 
 
 ♦ Vide Milton, Book VI. 
 
6g 
 
 And now, auld C/ootSy 1 ken ye're thlnkin, 
 A certain Bardie's rantin, drinkin, 
 Some luckless hour will send him linking 
 
 ^ To your black pit;. 
 But, faith! he'll turn a corner jinkin, 
 An' cheat you yet. 
 
 But, hn you wiel, auld NidMrnl 
 O wad yi tak a thought an' minM 
 Ye aiblins might««»I dinna ken — 
 
 Still hae a stah-^ 
 I'm wae to think upo' yon den, 
 
 Ev'n for your sake I 
 
 THE 
 
7» 
 
 THE 
 
 DEATH AND DYING WORD^ 
 
 OF 
 
 POOR M A I L I E,. 
 
 THE author's only PET YOWE:; 
 
 AN UNCO MOURNFU^ TJLE* 
 
 x\S MaUiey an' her lambs thegither,. 
 Was ae day nibbling on the tether. 
 Upon her cloot she coost a hitch. 
 An' owre she warsFd in the ditch: 
 There, groaning, dying, she did lie. 
 When Hughoc * he came doytin by* 
 
 Wi' glowrin een, an' lifted han's> 
 Poor Hughoc like a statue stan'sj 
 He saw her days were near hand ended^ 
 But, waes my heart! he could na mend itt 
 He gaped wide, but naething spakj 
 At length poor Mailie silence brak. 
 
 ' O thou, whase lamentable face 
 Appears to mourn my woefu' easel 
 
 * A neibor herd-callan,. 
 
 My 
 
7^ 
 
 My dying words attentive hear, 
 An' bear them to my Master dear. 
 
 « Tell him, if e'er again he keep 
 As muckle gear as buy a sheep, ^ 
 
 O, bid him never tie them mair 
 Wi' wicked strings o' hemp or hair! 
 But ca' them out to park or hill. 
 An' let them wander at their will : 
 So may his flock increase, an' grow 
 To scores o' lambs, an' packs o' woo' ! 
 
 < Tell him, Tie was a Master kin'. 
 An' aye was guid to me and mine; 
 An' now my dying charge I gie him. 
 My helpless lambs I trust them wi' him. 
 
 « O, bid him save their harmless lives, 
 Frae dogs, an' tods, an' butchers knives! 
 But gie them guid cow-milk their fill, "^ 
 Till they be fit to fend themsel; 
 An' tent them duly, e'en an' morn, 
 Wi' teats o' hay an' ripps o' corn. 
 
 « An' may they never learn the gaetr, 
 Of ither vile, wanrestfu' pets! 
 To slink thro' slaps, an' reave an' steal. 
 At stacks o' pease, or stocks o' kail. 
 So may they, like their great Forbears, 
 For monie a year come thro' the sheers : 
 
 So 
 
72 
 
 So Wives will gle them bits o' bread, 
 
 An' bairns greet for them when they're <lead* 
 
 * My poor toop-lamh^ my son an' heir, 
 O, bid him breed him up wi' care! 
 An' if he live to be a beast. 
 To pit soine ha^ins in his breast! 
 An' warn him what I winna name. 
 To stay content wi' yowes at hame; 
 An' no to rin an' wear his cloots. 
 Like ither menseless, graceless, brutes. 
 
 < An' neist, my pwie^ silly thing, 
 <5ude keep thee frae a tether string ! 
 O, may thou ne'er forgather up 
 Wi' ony blastit, moorland toop; 
 But ay keep mind to moop an' mell, 
 Wi' sheep o' credit like thysel ! 
 
 < And now, my bairns, wi' my last breathy 
 I lea'e myblessin wi'you baith: 
 
 An' when you think upo' your Mither> 
 Mind to be kin' to ane anither. ^ 
 
 « Now, honest Hughoc^ dinna fail 
 To tell my Master a' my tale; 
 An' bid liim burn this cursed tether^ 
 An', for thy pains, thou'se get my blether/ 
 
 J> 
 
 This said, poor Mailie turn'd her head, 
 An' clos'd her cen amang the dead. 
 
 POOR 
 
/ o 
 
 POOR M A I L I E' S 
 ELEGY. 
 
 X-iAMENT In rhyme, lament in prose, 
 Wi' saut tears trickling down your nosej 
 Our Bardie's fate is at a close, 
 
 Past a'remead; 
 The last sad cap-stane of his woes; 
 
 Poor Mailies dead! 
 
 Its no the loss o' warFs gear. 
 That could sae bitter draw the tear, 
 'Or mak our Bardie, dowie, wear 
 
 The mourning weed ; 
 He's lost a friend and neebor dear. 
 
 In Mailie dead. 
 
 Thro' a' the toun she trotted by him; 
 A lang half-mile she could descry him; 
 Wi' kindly bleat, when she did spy him, 
 
 . She ran wi' speed : 
 A friend mair falthfu' ne'er came nigh him. 
 
 Than Mailie dead. 
 
 I Wat 
 
74 
 
 1 wat she was a sheep o' sense. 
 An' could behave hersel wi mense: 
 I'll say 't, she never brak a fence, 
 
 Thro' thievish greed. 
 Our Bardie, lanely, keeps the Spence 
 
 Sin' MaiJie's dead. 
 
 Or, If he wanders up the howe, 
 
 Her living image in her yowe. 
 
 Comes bleating to him o'er the knowe. 
 
 For bits o' bread j 
 An' down the briny pearls rowe 
 
 For Mailie dead. 
 
 She was nae get o' moorland tips, 
 
 Wl' tawted ket, an' hairy hips; 
 
 For her forbears were brought in ships 
 
 Frae yont the Tweed: 
 A honxiiQX j^eesh ne'er cross'd the clips 
 
 Than Mailie's dead, 
 
 Wae worth the man wha first did shape 
 That vile, wanchancie thing — a rape! 
 It maks guid fellows girn an' gape, 
 
 Wi' chokin dread; 
 An* Robin^s bonnet wave wi' crape. 
 
 For Mailie dead. 
 
 O, a' ye Bards on bonnie Doon! 
 An' wha^on Ayr your chanters tune ! 
 
 Come, 
 
75 
 
 Gome, join the melancholious croon 
 O' Robin' 2^ reed! 
 
 His heart will never get aboon! 
 
 His Mailie dead! 
 
 TO 
 
 J^ s ^ * ^ ^. 
 
 Friendship! Mysterious cement of the soul! 
 S-weefner of Life, and solder of Society ! 
 Lowe thee much, — 
 
 Dear S****, the sleest, paukie thief, 
 That e'er attempted stealth or rief, 
 Ye surely hae some warlock-breef 
 
 Owre human hearts; 
 For ne'er a bosom yet was prief 
 
 Against your arts. 
 
 For me, I swear by sun an' moon, 
 
 And ev'ry star that blinks aboon, 
 
 Ye've cost me twenty pair o' shoon 
 
 Just gaun to. see youj 
 
 G 2 ' And 
 
And evTy ither pair that's done, 
 
 ^ Mair taen I'm wi' you* 
 
 That auld capricious carlin, Nature, 
 To mak amends for scrimpit st;jture. 
 She's turn'd you ofF, a human creature 
 
 On \i^i first plan, 
 And ui her £reaks> on ev'ry feature, 
 
 She's v>iXQi^ythe Mam. 
 
 Just now Fve taen the fit o' rhyme, 
 My barmie noddle V working prime. 
 My fancy yerkit up sublime 
 
 V/i' hasty summon : 
 Hae ye a leisure moment's time 
 
 To hear what's comin? 
 
 Some rhymxe a neebors name to lash; 
 
 Some rhyme (vain thought!) for needfii' cash;^ 
 
 Some rhyme to court the countra clash. 
 
 An' raise a dinj 
 For me, an aim\ never fash 5 
 
 I rhyme for fun. 
 
 The star that rules my luckless lot. 
 
 Has fated me the russet coat. 
 
 An' damn'd my fortune to the groat; 
 
 But in requit. 
 Has blest me wi' a random shot 
 
 O' countra wit. 
 
 This 
 
77 
 
 This while my notion ^s tacn a sklent, 
 To try my fate in good black prent; 
 But still the mair Fm that way bent, 
 
 Something cries, « Hoolie! 
 ^ I red you, honest man, tak tent I 
 
 < Ye'll shaw your follyw 
 
 « There *s ither poets, much your betters, 
 
 < Far seen in Greeks deep men o' letters, 
 
 « Hae thought they had ensur 'd their debtors^ 
 
 ^ A' future ages; 
 * Now moths deform in shapeless tatters, 
 
 ^ Their unknown pages/ 
 
 Then farewell hopes o' laurel-boughs> 
 To garland my poetic brows ! 
 Henceforth I'll rove where busy ploughs 
 
 Are whistling thrang, 
 An' teach the lanely heights an' howes 
 
 My rustic sang. 
 
 ni wander on with tentless heed 
 How never-halting moments speed. 
 Till fate shall snap the brittle thread; 
 
 Then, all unknown, 
 rU lay me with th' inglorious dead. 
 
 Forgot and gone ! 
 
 But why o' Death begin a tale ? 
 
 JǤt now we're living sound and hale, 
 
 G 3 Then 
 
78 
 
 Then top and maintop croud the sail. 
 
 Heave Care o'er- side I 
 
 And large, before Enjoyment's gale, 
 Let's tak the tide* 
 
 This life, sae far *s I understand. 
 
 Is a' enchanted fairy land. 
 
 Where Pleasure is the rnagic wand. 
 
 That, wielded rights 
 Maks hours like minutes, hand in hand^ 
 
 Dance by fu' lights 
 
 The magic wand then let us wield; 
 For, ance that five-an'-forty's speel'd. 
 See crazy, weary, joyless eild, 
 
 Wi' v/rinkl'd face^ 
 Comes hostin, hirplin owre the field, 
 
 Wi' creepin pace. 
 
 When ance ///^V day draws near the gloamin^v. 
 Then fareweel vacant careless roaming 
 An' fareweel chearfu' tankards foamin^ 
 
 An' social noise j 
 An' fareweel dear, deluding womariy 
 
 The joy of joys! 
 
 O Life ! how pleasant in thy morning. 
 Young Fancy's rays the hills adorning! 
 Cold' pausing Caution's lesson scorning, 
 Wc frisk away, 
 
 Like 
 
79 
 
 Like school-boys, at th* expectant warning. 
 To joy and play. 
 
 We wander there, we wander here, 
 We eye the rose upon the brier. 
 Unmindful that the thorn is near. 
 
 Among the leaves ^ 
 And tho' the puny wound appear. 
 
 Short while it grieve^c^ 
 
 Some, lucky, find a flow'ry spot. 
 For which they never toil'd nor swat j. 
 They drink the sweet and eat the fat. 
 
 But care or pain; 
 And, haply, eye the barren hut 
 
 With high disdain. 
 
 With steady aim, some Fortune chase ^^ 
 Keen hope does ev'ry sinew brace; 
 Thro' fair, thro' foul, they urge the race. 
 
 And seize the prey : 
 Then canie, in some cozie place. 
 
 They close the ^^y. 
 
 And others, like your humble servan^. 
 Poor wights! nae rules nor roads observing. 
 To right or left, eternal swervin. 
 
 They zig-zag on; 
 Till curst with age, obscure an' starvin. 
 
 They aften groan. 
 
 Alas? 
 
Bo 
 
 Alas! what bitter toil an' straining— 
 
 But truce with peevish, poor complaining] 
 
 I:s Fortune's fickle Luna waning? 
 
 E'en let her gang! 
 Beneath what light she has remaining. 
 
 Let's sing our sang. 
 
 My pen I here fling to the door. 
 
 And kneel, ^ Ye Pow'rs!' and warm implore, 
 
 < Tho' I should wander Terra o'er, 
 
 « In all her climes, 
 « Grant me but this, I ask no more, 
 
 < Ay routh o' rhymes. 
 
 < Gie dreeping roasts to countra Lairds, 
 « Till icicles hing frae their beards; 
 
 < Gie fine braw claes to fine Life-guards, 
 
 < And Maids of Honor J 
 « And yill an' whisky gie to Cairds, 
 
 * Until they sconner. 
 
 ^ A title, Dempster rnQvits itj . 
 « A garter gie to Jf^illie Pitt; 
 f Gie wealth to some be-ledger'd Cit, 
 
 ' « In cent, per cent. 
 « But give me real, sterling Wit, 
 
 « And I'm content. 
 
 ' While ye are pleas'd to keep me hale, 
 ♦ I'll sit down o'er my scanty meal, 
 
 ^ Be't 
 
8i 
 
 ^ Be't nvater-brose or muslin-kaily 
 
 < Wi chearfu' face, 
 « As lang's the Muses dinna fail 
 
 < To say the grace/ 
 
 An anxious e^'e I never throws 
 Behint my lug, or by my nose; 
 I jouk beneath Misfortune's blows 
 
 As weel's Imay; 
 Sworn foe to Sorrow, Care, and Prose^ 
 
 I rhyme away. 
 
 O ye douce folk, that live by rule. 
 Grave, tideless-blooded, calm and cool. 
 Compared wi' you — O fool! fool! fool! 
 
 How much unlike! 
 Your hearts are just a standing pool. 
 
 Your lives, a dyke! 
 
 Nae hair-braln'd, sentimental traces^ 
 In your unletter'd, nameless faces! 
 In arioso trills and graces 
 
 Ye never stray. 
 But gravissimoy solemn basses 
 
 Ye hum away. 
 
 Ye are sae grave^ nae doubt ye're wise; 
 Nae ferly tho' ye do despise 
 The hairum-scairum ram-stam boys. 
 The rattlin squad: 
 
 I sec 
 
82 
 
 I see you upward cast your eyes — 
 
 — Ye ken the road.- 
 
 Whilst I — but I shall haud me there — 
 Wi' you ril scarce gang ony where-^^ 
 Then, Jamie ^ I shall say nae mair, 
 
 But quat my sang. 
 Content w? you to mak a pair, 
 
 Whare'er I gang. 
 
 DREAM. 
 
 nought Sy 'words i and deeds ^ the Statute blames ivittreasonp 
 But iwr^-y Dreams luere ne'er indicted Treason, 
 
 [On reading, in the public papers, the Laureat\ Qde^ with the 
 other parade of June 4, 1786, the Author was no fooner 
 dropt asleep, than he imagined himself transported to the 
 Birth -day Levee ; and in his dreaming fancy, made the 
 following Address]. 
 
 VJTuiD-MORNiNG to your Majesty^ 
 May heav'n augment your blisses. 
 
 On ev'ry new Birth-day ye see, 
 A humble Poet wishes! 
 
 My 
 
83 
 
 My Bardship here, at your Levee, 
 
 On sic a day as this is, 
 Is sure an uncouth sight to see, 
 
 Amang thae Birth-day dresses 
 
 Sae fine this day* 
 
 IL 
 
 I see ye're complimented thrang, 
 
 By mony a lord and lady; 
 * God save the King!' 's a cuckoo safig 
 
 That's unco easy said ay; 
 The Pdets^ too, a venal gang, 
 
 Wi' rhymes w^eel-turn'd and ready. 
 Wad gar you trow ye ne'er do wrang. 
 
 But ay unerring steady. 
 
 On sic a day. 
 
 III. 
 
 For mei before a Monarch's face, 
 
 Ev*n there I winna flatter; 
 For neither Pension, Post, nor Place, 
 
 Am I your humble debtor: 
 So, nae reflection on your Grace^ 
 
 Your Kingship to bespatter; 
 There's monie waur been o' the race, 
 
 And aiblins ane been better 
 
 Than you this day. 
 
 IV. 
 
84 
 
 IV. 
 
 "'TIS very true, my sovereign King, 
 
 My skill may weelbe doubted: 
 But facts are cheels that winna ding, 
 
 An' downa be disputed: 
 Your Royal Nest, beneath your wing^ 
 
 Is e'en right reft an' clouted. 
 And now the third part of the string. 
 
 An' less, will gang about it 
 
 Than did ae day* 
 
 V. 
 
 Far be't frae me that I aspire 
 
 To blame your Legislation, 
 Or say, ye wisdom want, or fire. 
 
 To rule this mighty nation ! <^ 
 
 But faith! I muckle doubt, my Sire, 
 
 Ye've trusted ministration 
 To chaps, wha, in a barn or byre. 
 
 Wad better fill'd their station 
 
 Than courts yon day, 
 
 VI. 
 
 And now yeVe gien auld Britain peace, 
 
 Her broken shins to plaister; 
 Your sair taxation does her fleece, 
 
 Till she has scarce a tester j 
 
 For 
 
85 
 
 Fdr me, tKank God, my life's a lease j 
 
 Nae bargain wearing faster, 
 Or, faith! I fear, that, wi* the geese, 
 
 I shortly boost to pasture 
 
 r the craft some day^ 
 
 VIL 
 
 I'm no mistrusting WiU'te Fifty 
 ■ When taxes he enlarges, 
 (An' WiU\ a true guid fallow's get^ 
 
 A name not envy spairges). 
 That he intends to pay your debt. 
 
 An' lessen a' your charges; 
 
 But, G-"d-sake! let nae saving-fit 
 
 Abridge your bonie barges 
 
 An' boats this day. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Adieu, my Liege! may freedom geek 
 
 Beneath your high protection; 
 An' may ye rax corruption's neck, 
 
 And gie her for dissection! 
 But since I'm here, TU no neglect. 
 
 In loyal, true affection. 
 To pay your ^ueen^ with due respect, 
 
 My fealty an' subjection 
 
 This great Birth-day. 
 
 H IX. 
 
IX. 
 
 Hall, Majesty Most Excellent! ' 
 
 While nobles strive to please ye. 
 Will ye accept a compliment 
 
 A simple poet gies ye? 
 Thae bonnie bairntlme, Heav'n has lent^ 
 
 Still higher may they heeze ye 
 In bliss, till fate some day is sent. 
 
 For ever to release ye 
 
 Frae care that day. • 
 
 X. 
 
 For you, young Potentate o^ W- 
 I tell your Highness fairly, 
 
 Down Pleasure's stream, vi^i' swelling sails, 
 
 I'm tauld ye're driving rarely; 
 But some day ye may gnaw your nails, 
 
 An' curse your folly sairly. 
 That e'er ye brak Diana's pales. 
 
 Or rattl'd dice wi' Charliey 
 
 By night or day. 
 
 XL 
 
 Yet aft a ragged Cowte 's been known 
 
 To mak a noble Aiver; 
 *So, ye may doucely fill a throne, 
 
 For a' their cll§h-ma-claver: 
 
 There, 
 
^7 
 
 There, him* at Agincourt wha shone^ 
 
 Few better were or braver; 
 An' yet, wi' funny, queer S/> John f , 
 
 He was an unco shaver 
 
 For monie a day. 
 
 XII. 
 
 For you, right rev'rend O 5 
 
 Nane sets the lawn-sleeve sweeter, 
 Altho' a ribban at yoijr lug 
 
 Wad been a dress completer: 
 As ye disown yon paughty dog 
 
 That bears the Keys of Peter, 
 Then, swith ! an' get a wife to hug, 
 
 Or, trouth! ye'U stain the Mitre 
 
 Some luckless day. 
 
 XIIL 
 
 Young, royal Tarry Breeksy I learn, 
 
 Ye've lately come athwart her; 
 A glorious Galley"^ y stem an' stern, 
 
 Weel rigg'd for Venus barter; 
 But first hang out, that she'll discern. 
 
 Your hymeneal charter, 
 
 H 2 Then, 
 
 * King Henry V. 
 
 f Sir John Falstaif, Vide Shakespeare. 
 
 * Alluding to the News-paper account of a certain Royal 
 Sailor's anaour. 
 
88- 
 
 Then heave aboard your grapple aim,. 
 An' large upo' her quarter, 
 
 Come full that dap. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Ye, lastly, bonnie blossoms aV 
 
 Ye royal Lasses dainty, 
 Ileav'n mak you guid as well as braw^,. 
 
 An' gie you lads a-plenty: 
 But sneer na British boys avva', . 
 
 For Kings are unco scant ay; 
 An' German gentles are but sma\ 
 
 They're better just than ivnnt ay 
 On onie day. 
 
 XV. 
 
 God bless you a'! consider now, 
 
 Ye're uncx) muckle dautet; 
 But ere the course o' life be through^ 
 
 It may be bitter sautet: 
 An' I hae seen their coggie fou, 
 
 That yet. hae tarrow't at it; 
 But or the day was done, I trow. 
 
 The laggen they^haeclautet 
 
 Fu' clean that day. 
 
 THE 
 
89 
 
 THE 
 
 VIS I O N. 
 
 DUAN FIRSTt 
 
 X HE sun had clos'd the winter day. 
 The curlers quat their roaring play. 
 An' hunger'd maukin taen her way 
 
 To kail-yards green. 
 While faithless snaws ilk step betray 
 
 Whare she has been* 
 
 The thresher's 'wt'sccy JUngin-tree 
 The lee-lang day had tired me; 
 And whan the day had clos'd his e'e. 
 Far i' the west, 
 Ben i' the spence^ right pensivelie, 
 I gaed to rest. 
 
 There, lanely, by the ingle-cheek, 
 I sat and ey'd the spewing reek, 
 
 H3 That 
 
 t Buan<i a term of Ossian's for the different divisions of a di- 
 gressive Poem. See his Cath-Loda^ vol. a, of M'Pherson's Trans* 
 lation. 
 
90 
 
 i hat fili'd, wi' hoast-provoking/ smeek, 
 
 The auid, clay biggni| 
 
 An' heard the restless rattons squeak 
 About, the riggin.. 
 
 All in this niottiej misty clime, 
 I backward mus'd on wasted time, 
 How Lhad spent my youthfu' prime, ^ 
 
 An^ done nae-thing^ 
 But stringin blethers up in ihmye. 
 
 For fools tosingo . 
 
 Had I to guid advice but harkit, 
 I might, by this, hae led a market. 
 Or strutted in a bank an^ clarkit 
 
 My cash-account; 
 While here, half-mad, half-fed, half-sa^rkit^ 
 
 Is a' th' amaunL 
 
 I started, mutt'ring, blockhead! coof ! 
 And heav'd on high my waukit loof. 
 To swear by a' yon starry roof. 
 
 Or some rash aith, 
 That I, hencefortli, would be rhyme-proof 
 
 Till my last breath — 
 
 When click! the string the snick did draw. 
 And jee! the door gaed to the wa'; 
 And by my inglc-lowe I saw. 
 
 Now bleczin bright, 
 
 A tight;, 
 
91 
 
 A tight, outlandish Hizziey braw, 
 
 Come full in sight » 
 
 Ye need na doubt, I held my whisht; 
 The infant aith, half-form'd, was crusht 
 I glowr'd as eerie's Pd been dusht 
 
 In some wild glen ; 
 When sv/eet, like modest worth, she blusht^.. 
 
 And stepped ben. 
 
 Green, slender, leaf-clad Holly-houghs 
 Were twisted, gracefu', round her brow^^-; 
 I took her for some Scottish Muse^ 
 
 By that same token; 
 An' come to stop those reckless vows, 
 
 Wou'd soon been broken, 
 
 K * hair-bVain'd sentimental trace' 
 Was strongly m.arked in her face; 
 A Wildly-witty, rustic grace 
 
 Shone full upon her; 
 Her eye, ev'n turn'd on empty space, 
 
 Beam'd keen wuth honor. . 
 
 Down flow'd her robe, a tartan sheen, 
 Till half a leg was scrimply seen; 
 And such a leg! my bonnie "Jean 
 
 Could only peer it; - 
 Sae straught, sae taper, tight and clean, 
 
 Nane else came hear it. 
 
 Her 
 
92 
 
 Her mantle large, of greenish hue^ 
 
 My gazing wonder chiefly drew; 
 
 Deep lights and shades^ bold mingling, threw 
 
 A lustre grand; 
 And seemM to my astonish'd view, 
 
 A well known land^ 
 
 Here rivers in the sea were lost; 
 There, mountains to the skies were tost: 
 Here, tumbling billows mark'd the coast> 
 With surging foam; 
 There, distant shone art's lofty boast, 
 ; The lordly dome. 
 
 Here, Doon pour'd down his far-fetch'd floods 5 
 There, well-fed Jrw/W stately thuds: 
 Auld hermit Ayr staw thro' his woods, 
 
 On to the shore; 
 And many a lesser torrent scuds, 
 
 With seeming roar. 
 
 Low in a sandy valley spread, 
 
 An ancient Borough rear'd her head; 
 
 Still, as in Scottish story read. 
 
 She boasts a race, 
 To ev'ry nobler virtue bred, 
 
 And polish'd grace* 
 
 By stately tow'r or palace fair, 
 Or ruins pendent in the air, 
 
 Bold 
 
93 
 
 Bold stems of heroes, here and there,. 
 
 I could discern; 
 Some seem'd to muse, some seem'd to dare^^. 
 
 With feature stern* 
 
 My heart did glowing transport feel^ 
 
 To see a race * heroic wheel, 
 
 And brandish round the deep-dy'd steel: 
 
 In sturdy blows; 
 While back-recoiling seem'd to reel 
 
 Their Suthron foes. 
 
 His Country's Saviour §> mark him well! 
 Bold Richardton^ sfhtroic swell; 
 The chief on Sark :j: who glorious fell, 
 
 In high command; 
 And he whom ruthless fates expeil 
 
 His native land.. 
 
 TherCj, 
 
 ♦The Wallaces*. 
 
 § William Wallace. 
 
 t Adam Wallace of Rlchardton, cousin to tlie irftmortal Preserv- 
 er of Scottish Independence. 
 
 \ Wallace, Laird of Cragie, who was second In command, under 
 Douglas, Earl of Ormond, at the famous battle on the banks of 
 Sark, fought anno 1448. That glorious victory was principally- 
 owing to the judicious conduct and intrepid valour of.the gallant 
 Laird of Cragie, who died of his wounds after the action. 
 
94 
 
 There, where a sceptr'd Pictish shade §' 
 Stalk'd round his ashes lowly laid, 
 I mark'd a martial race, pourtray'd 
 
 In colours strong 5, 
 Bold soldier-featur'd, undismayed 
 
 They strode along*. 
 
 Thro* many a wild, romantic grove f , 
 Near many a hermit-fancy'd cove, 
 (Fit haunts for Friendship or for Love, 
 
 In musing mood) 
 An aged Judge^ I saw him rove, 
 
 Dispensing good. 
 
 With deep-struck reverential awe \ 
 The learned S/r^ and BonY saw. 
 To Nature's God and Nature's law 
 
 They gave their lore^^ 
 This, all its. source and end to draw. 
 
 That to adore. 
 
 Bryden^^^ 
 
 § Coilus, King of the Picts, from whom the district of Kyle W 
 said to take its name, lies buried, as tradition says, near the fami- 
 ly-feat of the Montgomeries of Coils-field, where his burial place 
 is still shown. 
 
 fBarskimming, the seat of the Lord Justice-Clerk. 
 
 • Catrine, the feat of the late Doctor, and prefent Professor 
 Stewart. 
 
95 
 
 Brydetfs brave ward J I well could spy, 
 Beneath old Scotia s smiling eye; 
 Who caird on Fame, low standing by, 
 
 To hand him on, 
 Where many a patriot-name on high 
 
 And hero shone. 
 
 DUAN SECOND. 
 
 With musing-deep, astonish'd stare, 
 I view'd the heavenly-seeming Fair; 
 A whispering throb did witness bear 
 
 Of kindred sweet 
 When with an elder sisters air 
 
 She did me greet. 
 
 < All hail! my own inspired Bard ! 
 ^ In me my native Muse regard! 
 
 < Nor longer mourn thy fate is hard, 
 
 * Thus poorly low! 
 « I come to give thee such reward 
 
 * As we bestow. 
 
 < Know, the great Genius of this Land 
 « Has many a light, aerial band, 
 
 « Who, all beneath his high command, 
 ^ Harmoniously, 
 
 I Colonel Fullarton. 
 
 < As 
 
96 
 
 « As arts or arms they understand, 
 
 « Their labours ply. 
 
 < They Sr<9//Vs race among theni share; 
 
 * Some fire the soldier on to dare; 
 ^ Some rouse the patriot up to bate 
 
 ^ Corruption's heart: 
 
 < Some teach the bard, a darling care, 
 
 < The tuneful art. 
 
 ^ 'Mong swelling floods of reeking gore, 
 ^ They ardent, kindling spirits pour; 
 ^ Or, mid the venal senate's roar, 
 
 < They, sightless, stand, 
 '■^ To mend the honest patriot-lore, 
 
 « And grace the hand. 
 
 ■^ And when the bard, or hoary sage, 
 
 < Charm or instruct the future age, 
 « They bind the wild, poetic rage 
 
 < In energy, 
 « Or point the inconclusive page 
 
 ^ Full on the eye. 
 
 ^ Hence FuUartony the brave and young; 
 ^ Hence Dempster' 'i zeal-inspired tongue; 
 
 * Hence, sweet harmonious Beattie sung 
 
 His « Minstrel lays;" 
 
 * Or tore, with noble ardour stung, 
 
 « The Sceptics bays* 
 
 ^ To 
 
97 
 
 f To lower oi*ders are assigned 
 « The humbler ranks of human kind, 
 « The rustic bard, the laboring hind, 
 « The artisan; 
 « All chuse, as various they're inclin'd, 
 
 < The various man. 
 
 < When yellow waves the heavy grain, 
 
 < The threatening storm some, strongly, rein^ 
 
 < Some teach to meliorate the plain, 
 
 * With tillage-skill; 
 « And some instruct the shepherd-train, 
 « Blythe o'er the' hilL 
 
 « Some hint the lover's harmless wile; 
 
 < Some grace the maiden's artless smile; 
 ^ Some sooth the lab'rer's weary toil, 
 
 < For humble gains, 
 
 < And make his cottage-scenes beguile 
 
 < His cares and pains. 
 
 ^ Some, bounded to a district- space, 
 
 < Explore at large Man's infant race, 
 * To mark the embryotic trace 
 
 ^ Of rustic Bard; 
 « And careful note each op'ning grace, 
 
 < A guide and guard. 
 
 ^ Of these am I — Coi/a my name; 
 « And this district as mine I claim, 
 
 I Where 
 
98 
 
 ^ Where once the Campbells^ chiefs of fame^ 
 * Held ruhng pow'r; 
 
 ^ I rnarkM thy embryo tuneful flame, 
 « Thy natal hour. 
 
 < With future hope, loft would gaze, 
 
 < Fohd, on thy little early ways, 
 
 « Thy rudely caroll'd, chiming phrase, 
 
 « In uncouth rhymes, 
 
 < Fir'd at the simple, artless lays 
 
 < Of other times. 
 
 ^ I saw thee seek the sounding shore, 
 ^ Delighted with the dashing roar; 
 f^ Or when the North his fleecy store 
 
 < Drove thro' the sky, 
 f I saw grim Nature's visage hoar 
 
 « Struck thy young eye. 
 
 -^ Or when the deep green-mantl'd earth 
 
 < Warm cierish'd ev'ry flow'ret's birth, 
 « And joy and maj^c^ pouring forth 
 
 « In>^ry grove 
 ? I saw thee eye the gen'ral)mirth 
 
 « Wit];i boundless love. 
 
 « When rlpen'd fields, and azure skies, 
 ^ Caird forth the re?aper's rustling noise, 
 ^ I saw thee leave- their ev'ning joys, 
 
 < And lonely stalk, 
 
 ^ To 
 
99" 
 
 ^ To vent thy bosom's swelling rise 
 
 < In pensive walk. 
 
 < V/hen youthful Im^e, warm-blushing strong, 
 ' Ke^n-shivering shot thy nerves along, 
 
 * 1 hose accents, grateful to thy tongue, 
 
 ^ T\i adored /?r//??^> 
 ^ I taught thee how to pour in song, 
 
 « Ta soothe thy flame, 
 
 « I saw thy pulse's maddening play, 
 
 < Wild send thee pleasure's devious way, 
 « Misled by fancy's meteor-ray, 
 
 < By passion driven; 
 
 * Butyet the/%/>/ that led astray 
 
 * V7as I'^ght from Heaven* 
 
 ^ I taught thy manners^painting strains, 
 ^ The loves, the ways of simple swains, 
 « Till now, o'er all my wide domains 
 
 ^ Thy fame extends; 
 ^ And some, the pride of CcZ/^'s plains, 
 
 < Become thy friends* 
 
 ' Thou canst not learn, nor can I show, 
 <f To paint with Thomson^ s landscape glow; 
 
 * Or wake the bosom- melting throe, 
 
 * With Shenstone's art; 
 
 * Or pour, with Gray^ the moving flow 
 
 « Warm on the heart. 
 M - I 2 < Yet 
 
lOO 
 
 < Ttct all beneath th' unrivaird rose, 
 
 * The lowly daisy sweetfy blows ; 
 
 * Tho' large the forest's monarch throws 
 
 ^ His army shade^ 
 ' Yet green the juicy hawthorn grows, 
 « A down the glade> 
 
 < Then never murmur nor repine*, 
 
 * Strive in thy humble sphere to shine; 
 
 < And trust me, not Potosi's mine, 
 
 < Nor king's regard^ 
 
 < Can give a bliss o'ermatching thine, 
 
 ^ A rustic bard. 
 
 < To give my counsels all in one, 
 
 * Thy tuneful fiame still careful fan; 
 
 < Preserve the dignity of rnarty 
 
 ^ With soul erect; 
 
 < And trust, the tmi^oersal plan 
 
 * Will all protect. 
 
 < And wear thou this* — she solemn said. 
 And bound the Holly round my head: 
 The polish'd leaves, and berries red. 
 
 Did rustling play; 
 And, like a passing thought, she fled 
 In light away. 
 
 ADDRESS 
 
XOI 
 ADDRESS 
 
 TO THE 
 
 UNCO G U I D, 
 
 OR THE 
 
 RIGIDLY RIGHTEOUS. 
 
 My son, these 7naxims mah a rule. 
 
 And lump tbem ay thegithet' ; 
 The Rigid Righteous is afoot. 
 
 The Rigid Wise anither: 
 The cleanest corn that e*er was dight 
 
 May hae fa^te pyles o' caff in / 
 So ne'er a feUotv-creature slight 
 
 For random fits 6* Baffin, 
 
 Solomon. — Eclef. ch. vii. ver; i^^ 
 
 L 
 
 vJ YE wha are sae guid yoursel, 
 
 Sae pious and sae holy, 
 Yc've nought to do but mark and tell 
 
 Your neebour's fauts and folly! 
 Whase life is like a weel-gaun mill, 
 
 Supply'd wi' store o' water. 
 
 I ^ • ^ Tlic 
 
102 
 
 The Iieapet tapper's ebbing still. 
 And still the clap plays clatter. 
 
 IL 
 
 Here me, ye venerable core. 
 
 As counsel for poor mortals, 
 That frequent pass douce Wisdom's door 
 
 For glaikit Folly's portals; 
 I, for their thoughtless, careless safa^. 
 
 Would here propone defences, 
 Their donsie tricks, their black mistakes^. 
 
 Their failings and mischances. 
 
 HI. 
 
 Ye see your state wi' their's compar'd^ 
 
 And shudder at the nifFer, 
 But cast a moment's fair regard. 
 
 What maks the mighty differ ; 
 Discount what scant occasion gave^^ 
 
 That purity ye pride in, 
 And (what's aft mair than a' the lave) 
 
 Your better art o' hiding. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Think, when your castigated pulse 
 Gie& now and then a wallop, 
 
 ' ~ Wfl3t 
 
103 
 
 What ragmgs must his veins convulse^ 
 
 That still eternal gallop : 
 Wi' wind and tide fair i' your tail^ 
 
 Right on ye scud your sea-way ^ 
 But in the teeth o' baith to sail. 
 
 It maks an unco leeway. 
 
 V. 
 
 See socialJife and glee sit down^ 
 
 All joyous and unthinking, 
 Till, quite transmugrify'd, they're growa 
 
 Debauchery and drinking: 
 O would they stay to calculate 
 
 Th' eternal consequences ; 
 Or your more dreaded h-11 to state^. 
 
 D-mnation of expenses i 
 
 VL 
 
 Te high, exalted, virtuous dames^ 
 
 Ty'd up in godly laces. 
 Before ye gie ^oor frailty names> 
 
 Suppose a change o' cases; 
 A dear-lov'd lad, convenience snug5. 
 
 A treacherous inclination 
 But, let me whisper i' your lug, 
 
 Ye're aiblins nae temptation. 
 
 VII, 
 
104 
 VII. 
 
 Then gently scan your brother man; ^ 
 
 Still gentler sister woman; 
 The' they may gang a kennin wrang. 
 
 To step aside is human : 
 One point must still be greatly dark^ 
 
 The moving Tjuhy they doit; 
 And just as lamely can ye mark. 
 
 How far perhaps they rue it. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Whq made the heart, 'tis He alone 
 
 Decidedly can try us, • 
 He knows each chord its various tone, j 
 
 Each spring its various bias: 
 Then at the balance let's be mute, 
 
 We never can adjust it; 
 What's done we partly may compute^ ^ 
 
 But know not what's resisted. 
 
 nkw 
 
105 
 
 TAM SAMSON'S ELEGYf. 
 
 ^in honest man's the noblest -work of God* 
 
 Irl AS auld Kilmarnock seen the deil?' 
 Or great M^******* t thrawnhis heel? 
 Or R*^***** [1 again grown weel, 
 
 To preach an' readi 
 * Na^ waur than a'f cries ilka chiel^ 
 
 « Tarn Samson^s deadF 
 
 Kilmarnock lang may grunt an' grane 
 An' sigh, an' sab, an' greet her laiie. 
 
 An' 
 
 f When this worthy old Sgortsman went out last muirfowl 
 season, he supposed it was to be, in Ossian's phrase, ' the 
 last of his fields;' and expressed an ardent wibh to die and be 
 buried in the mulrs. On this hint the Author composed his 
 Elegy and Epitaph. 
 
 t A certain preacher, a great favourite with thcL million. 
 F/Vf the Ordination, p. 57, 
 
 II Another preacher, an equal favourite with the few, who 
 was at that time ailing. For him see also tlie Ordination, 
 fianza IX, 
 
io6 
 
 An* dead her bairns, man, wife, an' weari^ 
 In mourning weed y 
 
 To Death, she's dearly paid the kane. 
 
 Tarn Samson's dead! 
 
 The brethren of the mystic level 
 May hing their head in wofu' bevel,v 
 While by their nose the tears will revel> 
 
 Like ony bead; 
 Death's gien the Lodge an unco devel, 
 
 Tarn Samson's' dead 1' 
 
 When winter muffles up his cloak, 
 And binds the mire like a rock, 
 V/hen to the loughs the curlers flock, 
 
 Wi' gleesome speed, 
 Wha will they station at the cock^ 
 
 Tarn Samson's dead? 
 
 He was the king o' a' the core, 
 To guard, or draw, or wick a bore, 
 Or up the ring like Jehu roar 
 
 In time of need ; 
 But now he lags on Death's hog-score^ 
 
 Tam Samson's dead ! 
 
 Now safe the stately sawmont sail. 
 And trouts bedropp'd wi' crimson hail, 
 And eels wcel ken'd for souple tail, 
 
 And geds for greedy 
 
 Sinc^r 
 
IC7 
 
 Since dark in Death's ^jy^-rfW we wail 
 Tarn Samson dcadi 
 
 Rejoice ye birring paitricks a'; 
 
 Ye cootie muircocks crousely craw^ 
 
 Ye maukins, cock your fud fu' braw, 
 
 Withoutten dread; 
 Your mortal fae is now awa', 
 
 Tam Samson's dead I 
 
 That wofu' morn be ever mourn'd 
 Saw him in shootin graith adorn'd, 
 While pointers round impatient burn'd, 
 
 Frae couples freed; 
 But;, och! he gaed and ne'er return'd ! 
 
 Tam Samson's dead I 
 
 In vain auld age his body batters; 
 In vain the gout his ancles fetters; 
 In vain the burns came down like waters^ 
 
 An acre braid! 
 Now ev'ry auld wife, greetin, clatters, 
 
 Tam Samson's dead! 
 
 Owre mony a weary hag he limpit 
 An ay the tither shot he thumpit, 
 Till coward Death behind him jumpit, 
 
 Wi' deadly feide; 
 Now he proclaims, wi' tout o' trumpet, 
 
 Tam Samson's dead! 
 
 When 
 
io8 
 
 /When at his heart he felt the dagger, 
 -He reel'd his wonted bottle swagger. 
 But yet he drew the mortal trigger 
 
 Wi' weel-aim*d heed; 
 « L— d, fivef" he cryM, an' owre did staggerj 
 
 Tarn Samson's dead ! 
 
 Ilk hoary hunter mourn'd a brither; 
 Ilk sportsman-youth bemoan'd a father; 
 Yon auld gray stane, amang the heather, 
 
 Marks out his head, 
 Whare Burns has wrote, in rhyming blether, 
 
 Tarn Samson^ s dead! 
 
 There, low he lies, in lasting rest; 
 Perhaps upon his mould'ring breast 
 Some spitefu' muirfowl bigs her nest. 
 
 To hatch an' breed: 
 Alas! nae mair he'll them molest! 
 
 Tarn Samson's dead! 
 
 When August winds the heather wave. 
 And sportsmen wander by yon grave, 
 Three vollies let his mem'ry crave, 
 
 O' pouther an' lead. 
 Till Echo answer frae her cave, 
 
 Tam Samson's dead! 
 
 Heav'n rest his saul, whare'er he- be ! 
 Is th' wish o' mony mae than me: 
 
 He 
 
*09 
 
 He had twa fauts, or may be three^ 
 
 Yet what remead? 
 
 Ae social-, honest man want we: 
 
 Tarn Samson's dead ! 
 
 THE EPITAPH. 
 
 Tam Samson's weel-worn clay here lies^ 
 Ye canting zealots, spare him ! 
 
 if honest worth in Heav'n rise, 
 Ye'll mend or ye win near him. 
 
 PER CONTRA. 
 
 ^Cto, fame, an' canter like a filly 
 
 Thro' a' the streets an' neuks o' KilUe*^ 
 
 Tell ev'ry social, honest billie 
 
 To cease his grievin, 
 For yet, unskaith'd by Death's gleg guUie^ 
 
 Tam BamsotC^ livitu 
 
 K THE 
 
 * KtlUe is a phrase the country-folks sometimes use for the 
 name of a certain town in the West. 
 
no 
 
 THE following POEM will, by many Read- 
 ersy be well enough understood; but for the sake 
 of those who are unacquainted with the manners 
 and traditions of the country where the scene is 
 cast, Notes are added, to give some account of 
 the principal Charms and Spells of that night, so 
 big with prophecy to the peasantry in the West 
 of Scotland. The passion of prying into futurity 
 makes a striking part of the history of human na- 
 ture in its rude state, in all ages and nations j and 
 it may be some entertainment to a philosophic 
 mind, if any such should honour the Author with 
 a perusal, to see the remains of it, among the 
 more unenlightened in our own. 
 
 HALLOWEEN, 
 
Ill 
 
 HALLOWEEN*. 
 
 — «e®€)^[^^l-^®»3c= — 
 
 Tes f lei the rich deride, the proud disdain, 
 Tke simple pleasures of the loivjy train: 
 To me more dear^ congenial to my hearty 
 Qii€ native charm, than all the gloss of art. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. 
 
 I. 
 
 U PON that night, when fairies Ilght^ 
 
 On Cassilis Donvnans\ dance. 
 Or owre tlie lays in splendid blaze, 
 
 On sprightly coursers prance; 
 Or for Cohan the rout is ta'en, 
 
 Beneath the moon's pale beams ^ 
 
 K 2 There 
 
 * Is thouglit to be a night when Witches, Devils, and other 
 Tnischief- making beings, are dl abroad on their baneful mid- 
 night errands; particularly those aerial people, the Fairies, 
 are said, on that night, to hold a grand anniversary. 
 
 t Certain little, romantic, rocky, green hills, in the neigh- 
 boiirhcod of the ancieut seat of the Earls of Cassiiis* 
 
112 
 
 There, up the Cove1[.y to stray an' rove 
 Amang the rocks an' streams 
 
 To sport that nighti 
 
 II. 
 
 Amang the bonnic^-winding banks. 
 
 Where Doon rins wimplin, clear, 
 Where Bp.uce § ance ruFd the martial ranks^.. 
 
 An' shook his Carrick spear, 
 Some merry, friendly, co antra folks, 
 
 Together did convene, 
 To burn their nits, an' pou their stocks, 
 
 An' baud their Halloween 
 
 Fu' blythe that night. 
 
 III. 
 
 The lasses feat, an' cleanly neat, 
 Mair braw than when they're fine; 
 
 Their faces blythe, fu' sweetly kythe. 
 Hearts leal, an' warm, an' kin': 
 
 The lads sae trig, w^i' wooer-babs, 
 Weel knotted on their garten. 
 
 Some 
 
 \ A noted cavern near Colea-n-house, called the Cove of Co- 
 Jean; which as weM as Cassilis Downans, is famed, m coun- 
 try story, for being a favourite haunt of Fairies. 
 
 § The famous family of that name, the ancestors of Ro- 
 bert, the great Deliverer of his Country, were Earls of Car- 
 rick. 
 
113 
 
 -Some unco blate^ an' some wi' gabs> 
 Gar lasses hearts gang startin 
 
 Whiles fast at night. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Then first and foremost, thro' the kail. 
 
 Their stocks * maun a' be sought ance; 
 They steek their e'en, an' graip an' wale. 
 
 For muckle anes an' straught anes. 
 Poor hav'rel Will fell afF the drift, 
 
 An' wander'd thro' the how-kail^ 
 An' pou't, for want o' better shift, 
 
 A rwit was like a sow-tail, 
 
 Sae bow't that nighr. 
 
 K 3 V, 
 
 * The first ceremony of Halloween is, pulling each a itoch 
 or plant of kail. They must go out, hand in hand, with eyes 
 shut, and pull the first they meet with: its being big or little, 
 straight or crooked, is prophetic of the size and shape of the 
 grand object of all their spells— the husband or wife. If any 
 y'trd. or earth, stick to the root, that is tocher, or fortune; and 
 the taste of the cmtccy that is, the heart of the stem, is indica- 
 tive of the natural temper and disposition. Lastly, the stems, 
 or, to give them their ordiiitiry appellation, ihtruntSy are plac- 
 ed somewhere above the head of the door; and the Christian 
 names of the people whom chance brings into the house, are, 
 according to the priority of placing the runts^ the names ia 
 question. 
 
114 
 
 V. 
 
 Therx, straught or crooked, ylrd or nane. 
 
 They roar an' cry a' throu'therj 
 The vera wee-things, todlin, tin 
 
 Wi' stocks out-owre their shoutherj 
 An' gif the custoc^^ sweet or sour, 
 
 Wi' joctelegs they taste them 5 
 Syne coziely, aboon the door, 
 
 Wi' cannie care, they've plac'd them 
 To lie that night, 
 
 VL 
 
 The lasses staw frae 'mang them a'^ 
 
 To pou their stalls 0' corn f ; 
 But Rab slips out, an' jinks about^ 
 
 Behintthe muckle thorn: 
 He grippet Nelly hard an' fastj 
 
 Loud skirl'd a' the lasses; 
 But her tap-pkhle mdASt was lost. 
 
 When kiutlin in the Fause-house :j: 
 
 Wi' him that night. 
 
 Vlf. 
 
 f Tl^.ey go to the barn-yard and pull each, at three several 
 times, a stalk of oats. If the third stalk wants the top-pkUCi 
 that is, the grain at the top of the stalk, the party in question 
 will come to the marriage-bed any thing but a maid. 
 
 4 When the corn is in a doubtful state, by being too green, 
 or wet, the stack-builder, by means of old timber, &c. makes 
 a large apartment in his stack, with an opening in the side 
 which is fair^&t c;cpo§ed to th^ wind; thi«Ji^ calls a Fam^hom^^ 
 
115 
 
 VII. 
 
 The auld Guidwife's weel-hoordet niis f 
 
 Are round an' round divided. 
 An' monie lads an' lasses fates 
 
 Are there that night decided: 
 Some kindle, couthie, side by side, 
 
 An' burn thegither trimly; 
 Some start awa, wi' saucy pride. 
 
 And jump out-owre the chimlie 
 
 Fu' high that night. - 
 
 VIIL 
 
 Jean slips in twa v/i' tentie e^e|- 
 
 Wha 'twas she wadna tell; 
 But this is Jocky an' this is me^ 
 
 She says in to hersel: 
 He bleez'd owre her, an' she owre hlm^ 
 
 As they wad never mair part. 
 Till fuiF! he started up the lum. 
 
 An' Jean had e'en a sair heart 
 
 To see't that night. 
 
 IX. 
 
 t Burning the nuts is a favourite charm. They name the 
 lad and lass to^each particular nut, as they lay them in the 
 iire; and accordingly as they burn quietly together, or start 
 from beside ojie another, the course and issue of the courtship 
 will be. 
 
ri6 
 IX. 
 
 Poor Willie, wi' his bow-hail runty 
 
 Was brunt wi' primsie Mallie; 
 An' Mary, nae doubt, took the druntj. 
 
 To be compar'd to Willie: 
 Mall's nit' lap out wi' pridefu' fling, 
 
 An' her ain fit it brunt it; 
 While Willie lap, an' swoor by jing^ 
 
 'Twas just the way he v/anted 
 
 To be that nighu. 
 
 Nell had the Fause-house in her min% , 
 
 She pits hersel an' Rob in ; 
 In loving bleeze they sweetly join, 
 
 Till white in ase they're sobbin: 
 Nell's heart was dancin at the view, 
 
 She whisper'd Rob to leukfor't: 
 Rob, stownlins, prie'd her bonnie mou,> 
 
 Eu' cozie in the neuk for'r. 
 
 Unseen that night. 
 
 XI. 
 
 But Merran sat behint their backs. 
 
 Her thoughts on Andrew Bellj 
 She lea'es them gashin at their cracks, . 
 
 And slips out by hersel: 
 
 She 
 
117 
 
 She thro' the yard the nearest taks, 
 
 An' to the kiln she goes then, 
 An' darklins graipit for the banks, 
 
 An' in the ^/W-^/w^ f throws then. 
 
 Right fear't that niglit.. 
 
 XII. 
 
 An' ay she win't, an' ay she swat,, 
 
 I wat she made nae jaukinj 
 *Ti!l something held within the pat|-. 
 Guid L — d! but she was quakin! 
 But whether 'twas the deilhimsel, 
 
 Or whether 'twas a bauk-en'. 
 Or whether it was Andrew Bell, 
 She did na wait on talkin 
 
 To spier that nighu 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Wee Jenny to her Grannie says, 
 * Will ye go wi' me. Grannie?: 
 
 im 
 
 f Whoever would, with success, try this sptll, must strictly 
 observe these directions : Steal out, all alone, to the kiln^ and, 
 darkling, throw into the pot, a clue of blue yarn; wind it in 
 a new clue offthe o]d one; and> towards the latter end, some- 
 thing will hold the thread; demand, ivha hands? i. e. who 
 holds; and answer v/iil be returned from the kiln-pot, by 
 naming the Christian name aiid surname of your future 
 spouse. 
 
II§ 
 
 ^' ril eat the apple ^ at the glass, 
 
 < I gat frae uncle Johnie:' 
 She fuiPt her pipe wi' sic a lunt,. 
 
 In wrath she was sae vap'rin, 
 She notic't na, an aizle brunt 
 
 Her brav/ new worset apron 
 
 Out thro' that nights. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 « Ye little skelpie-llmmer's facet' 
 ^ I daur you try sic sportin, 
 
 * As seek the foul thief ony place^ 
 
 * For hirn to spae your fortune : 
 
 * Nae doubt but ye may get a sight! 
 
 * Great cause ye hae to fear it; 
 
 * For monie a ane has gotten a fright^, 
 
 « An' liv'd an' di'd deleeret, 
 
 On sic a night.. 
 
 ^ 
 
 XV. 
 
 ^' Ae Hairst afore the Sherra-muir, 
 < I mind't as weel's yestreen^ 
 
 < I was*' 
 
 * Take a candle, and go alone to a looking glass; eat an' 
 apple before it, and some traditions say, you should comb 
 your hair all the time; the face of your conjugal companion, 
 to be, ^viil be seen in the glass; as if peeping over your shoui- 
 dcr. 
 
119 
 
 « I was a gilpey tlien, Fm sure 
 
 < I was na past fyfteen: 
 
 ^ The simmer had been cauld an' wat, 
 
 < An' stuff was unco green; 
 < An' ay a rantm kirn we gat, 
 
 < And just on Halloween 
 
 « It fell that night. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 * Our stibble-rig was Rab M^Graen, 
 
 < A clever, sturdy fallow; 
 
 * His sin gat Eppie Sim wi' wean, 
 
 * That liv'd in Achmacalla: 
 
 ^ He gat hemp-seed'^ J I mind it weel, 
 
 * An' he made unco light o't; 
 
 * But monie a day was by himself 
 
 * He was sae sairly frighted 
 
 < That vera night.^ 
 
 XVIL 
 
 * Steal out^ iinperceived, and 50w a handful of hemp-seed; 
 harrowing it with any thing you can conveniently draw af« 
 ter you. Repeat, now and then, < hemp-seed I saw thee, 
 hemp-seed I saw thee ; and him (or her) that is to be my 
 true-love, come after me and pou thee.' Look 6ver your 
 left shoulder, and you will see the appearance of the pefson 
 invoked, in the attitude of pulling hemp. Some traditions 
 say, < Come after me, and shaw thee,' that is, shew thyself; 
 in which case, it simply appears. Others omit the harrow- 
 ing, and say, * Come after me, and harrow thee.' 
 
I2d 
 
 XVIL 
 
 tThen up gat fechtin Jamie Fleck, 
 
 An' he swoor by his conscience. 
 That he could saw hemp-seed a peck; 
 
 For it was a' but nonsense, 
 The auld guidman raught down the pock, 
 
 An' out a handfu' gied him-, 
 Syne bad him slip ftae 'mang the folk. 
 
 Some time when nae ane see'd him. 
 An' try't that night. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 He marches thro' amang the stacks, 
 Tho' he was something sturtin^ 
 
 The gratp he for a harrow taks. 
 An' haurls at his curpin: 
 
 An' ev'ry novv^ an' then, he says, 
 
 * Hemp-seed I saw thee, 
 
 ^ An' her that is to be my lass, 
 
 * Gome after me, and draw thee 
 
 « As fast this night.* 
 
 XIX. 
 
 He whlstl'd up Lord Lenox' march, 
 
 To keep his courage cheary; 
 Altho' his hair began to arch. 
 
 He was sae flcy'd an' eerie: 
 
 Till 
 
121 
 
 Till presently he hears a squeak, 
 
 An' then a grane an' gruntie; 
 He by his shouther gae a keek, 
 
 An' tumbl/d wi' a wintle 
 
 Oiit'Owre that nigh to 
 
 XX. 
 
 He roar'd a horrid murder-shout, 
 
 In dreadfu' desperation! 
 An' young and auld came rinnin out, 
 
 An' hear the sad narration: 
 He sv/oor 'twas hilchin Jean M*Cra\^', 
 
 Or crouchie Merran Humphie, 
 Till stop! she trotted thro' them a'; 
 
 An' wha was it hnt Grmnphie^ 
 
 Asteer that night! 
 
 XXI. 
 
 Meg fain wad to the ham hae gaen. 
 To luinn three luechis d naethln''^'^ * 
 
 L But 
 
 '^This cliarm must likewise be performed, imperceived, 
 nnd alone. You go to the lam, and open both doors, taking 
 them off the hinges, if possible ; for there is danger, that tlie 
 Ickg^ about to appear, may shut tlie doors, and do you some 
 mischief. Then take that instrurnent used in winnowing the 
 corn* which, in our country diakrt, vre call a '<cchti zx\i\ o-o 
 tlirough ali the attitudes, of letting down corn against the 
 
But for to meet the deil her lanq^ 
 
 She pat but little faith in: 
 She gies the herd a pickle nits, 
 
 An' twa red cheekit apples. 
 To ; watch, while for the barn she sets, 
 
 In hopes to see Tarn Kipples 
 
 That vera night, 
 
 XXII. 
 
 She turns the key wi' cannie thraw. 
 
 An' owre the threshold ventures; 
 But first on Sawnie gies a ca'. 
 
 Syne bauldly in she enters: 
 A ration rattFd up the w^% 
 
 An' she cry'd, L — d preserve her ! 
 An' ran thro' midden-hole an' a' 
 
 An' pray'd v/i' zeal and fervour, 
 
 Fu' fast that night- 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 They hoy't out Will, wi' fair advice , 
 They hecht him some fine braw ane; 
 
 It 
 
 •wind. Repeat it three times; and, the third- time, an appa- 
 rition will pass through the barn, in at the windy door, and 
 out at the other, having both the figure in question, andthe 
 appearance or retinue, marking the employment or station ia 
 -life. 
 
li chancM the stack ht faddcm^t thrice^ y 
 
 Was timmer-propt for thrawinj 
 He tales' a swirlie, auld moss oak, 
 
 For some black, grousome carlin; 
 An' loot' a winze, an' drew a stroke, 
 
 Till skin in blypes came haurlin 
 
 Aff's nieves that nlght« 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 A wanfon widow Leezle wa.9. 
 
 As canty as a kittkn^ 
 B\it, Ochl that nighty amang the shaws^ 
 
 She gat a fearfu' settlin ! 
 She thro* the whins, an' by the cairn, 
 
 An* owre the hill gaed scrievin, 
 Whare three Lairds* lands met at a bumf 
 
 To dip her left sark-sleeve in. 
 
 Was bent that night, 
 
 L 2 xxv; 
 
 * Take an opportunity of going, unnoticed to a bear-stack, 
 f athoiti it three tinnics round. The last fathom of .the last 
 tinie you will catch in your arnis the appearance of your fu« 
 ture conjugal yoke- fellow. 
 
 f You go out, one or more, for this is a social spell, to a 
 south running spring or rivulet, where * three Lairds lands 
 meet/ and dip your left shirt sleeve. Go to bed in sight of a 
 fi*^, and hang your wet sleeve before it to dry. Lie awake; 
 and, some time near midnight, an apparition, having the ex- 
 2.ct figure of the grand object in question, will come and tur»i 
 the sleeve, as if to dry the other side of it. 
 
124- 
 XXV. 
 
 Whyles owre a linnthe burnie playa^ 
 
 As thro' the glen it wimpFt; 
 Whyks round a rocky scar it strays;, 
 
 Whyles in a wiel it dimprt; 
 Whyles glitter'd to the nightly rays, 
 
 Wi' bickering, dnncing daz^.Ie^ 
 Whyies cookit underneath the braes,. 
 
 Below the spreading hazle, 
 
 Unseen that nights 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 Amang the brachens, on the brae. 
 
 Between her an' the moon. 
 The deil, or else an outler quey, 
 
 Gat up an' gae a croon: 
 Poor Leezie's heart maist lap the hool ; 
 
 Near lav'rock-height she jumpit. 
 But mist a fit, an' in the pool 
 
 Out-owre the lugs she plutnpit, 
 
 Wi' a plunge that nighti 
 
 XXVIL 
 
 In order, on the clean hearth-stane, 
 The luggies three * are ranged, 
 
 And 
 ^ T«ike three dishes; put clean water in one, foul water i\\ 
 
125 
 
 And ev'ry time great care is ta'en^ 
 
 To see them duly changed: 
 Auld uncle John, wha wedlock's joys 
 
 Sin Ma/s-year did desire. 
 Because he gat the toom-dish thrice. 
 
 He heav'd them on the fire 
 
 In v/rath that nights 
 
 XXVIIL 
 
 Wi' merfy sangs, an' friendly cracks^' 
 
 I wat they did na weary, 
 An' unco tales, an' funnie joke?. 
 
 Their sports were cheap an' cheary 5 
 Till butter' d So'ns *, wi' fragrant luntj 
 
 Set a' their gabs a-steerihj 
 Syne, wi' a social glass o' strunt. 
 
 They parted aff carreerin 
 
 Fu' tlythe that night. 
 
 L 3 THE 
 
 another, leave the third eimpty; blindfold a person, and lead 
 him to the hearth where the dishes are ranged; he (or she) 
 dips the left hand: if by chance in the clean water, the future 
 husband or wife will come to the bar of matrimony a maid ; 
 if in the foul, a widow; if in the empty dish, it foretells, with 
 equal certainty, no marriage at all. It is repeated three times; 
 and every time the arrangement of the dishes is altered. 
 
 * So wens, with butter instead of milk to them, is always 
 the Hallo-wcen su^^cr* 
 
126 
 
 THE 
 
 AULD FARMER'S 
 
 NEfV'TEAR MORNING SALUTATION 
 TO HIS 
 
 AULD MARE, MAGGIE, 
 
 On giving her the accustomed Ripp of Corn to hansel 
 
 in the New Tear. 
 
 ./11 G^/W New-ycar I wish thee, Maggie ! 
 Hae there's a r?/>/> to thy auld baggie : 
 Tho' thou's howe-backit, now, an' knaggie^ 
 
 r Fveseen the day, 
 
 Thou could hae gaen like onie staggie 
 
 Out-owre the lay. 
 
 Tho' now thou's dowie, stifF, an' crazy, 
 An' thy auld hide as white's a daisy, 
 Fve seen thee dappl't, sleek, and glazie, 
 
 A bonnie gray: 
 He shou'd been tight that daur't to raize thee, 
 
 Ance in a day. 
 
 Thou 
 
127 
 
 Thou ance was i' the foremost rank, 
 A filly buirdly, steeve, an' swank. 
 An' set weel down a shapely shank. 
 
 As e'er tread yird| 
 An' cou'd hae flown out-owre a stank, . 
 
 Like ony bird. 
 
 It's now some nine-an'-twenty year. 
 Sin thou was my guid-father's meere^ 
 lie gied me thee, o' tocher clear, 
 
 An^ fifty mark; 
 Tho' it was sma', 'twas weel won gear, . 
 
 An' thou was stark. 
 
 When first I gaed to woo my Jenny, 
 Ye then was trottin wi' your minnie : 
 Tho' ye was trickie, slee, an' funnie. 
 
 Ye ne'er was donsiei . 
 But hamely, tawie, quiet, an' cannie. 
 
 An' unco sonsie. 
 
 That day, ye pranc'd wi' muckle pride. 
 When ye bure hame my bonnie bride: 
 An' sweet an' gracefu' she did ride, 
 
 Wi' maiden air ! 
 Kyle Stewart I could bragged wide. 
 
 For sic a pair. 
 
 Tho' now ye dow but hoyte and hoble. 
 An' wintle like a saumont-coble, 
 
 That 
 
128 
 
 That day ye was a j inker noble, 
 
 For heels an' win'! 
 
 An' ran them till they a' did wauble, 
 Far, far, behin'. 
 
 When thou an' I were young an' skiegh. 
 
 An' stable-meals at fairs were driegh. 
 
 How thou wad prance, an' snore, an' skriegl% 
 
 An' tak the road ! 
 Town's bodies ran, an' stood abiegh. 
 
 An' ca't thee mad. 
 
 When thou was corn't, an' I was mellow^ 
 We took the road ay like a swallov/: 
 At brooses thou had ne'er a fellow. 
 
 For pith an' speed \ 
 But ev'ry tail thou pay' t them hollow, 
 
 Whare'er thou gaed. 
 
 The sma', droop-rumpl't, hunter cattle. 
 Might aiblins waur't thee for a brattle; 
 But sax Scotch miles thou try't their mettle> 
 
 An' gar't them v/haizle : 
 Nae whip nor spur, but just a wattle 
 
 O' saugh or hazle. 
 
 Thou was a noble Fittie-Ian^ 
 As e'er in tug or tow was drawn ! 
 Aft thee an' I, in aught hours gaun. 
 
 On guid March-weather, 
 Hae 
 
129 
 
 Ilae turn'd sax rood beside our hanV 
 For days thegither;. 
 
 Thou never braindg't, an' fetch't, .an' fliskit^ 
 But thy auld tail thou wad hae whiskit, 
 An' spread abreed thy v/eel-iili'd brisket^ 
 
 Wi' pith an' pow'r, 
 Tillsprlttk knowes wadrair't and risket,. 
 
 An' slypet owre- 
 
 When frosts lay lang, an' snaws were deep^ 
 An' threaten'd labor baek to keep, 
 I gied thy cog a wee-bit heap 
 
 Aboon the timmerjr 
 I ken'd my Maggie wad na sleep 
 
 For that, or simmer.. 
 
 In cart or car thou never reestit ; 
 
 The steyest brae thou wad hae fac't it|; 
 
 Thou. never lap, an' sten't, an' breastit, 
 
 Then stood to blaw^ 
 But just thy step a wee thing hastit, 
 
 Thou snoov't awao 
 
 My pleugh is now thy bairn-time a'; 
 Four gallant brutes as e'er did draw; 
 Forbye sax mae, I've sell't awa, 
 
 ._That thou hast nurst:. 
 They drew me thretteen pund an' twa. 
 The vera warst. 
 
 Monie 
 
^30 
 
 Monie a sair daurg we twa hae wrought 
 An' wi' the weary warP fought ! 
 An' monie an anxious day, I thought 
 
 We wad be 'beat! 
 Yet here to crazy age we're brought, 
 
 Wi' something yet* 
 
 An' think na, my auld, trusty servan', 
 That now, perhaps, thou's less deservin, 
 An' thy auld days may end in starvin, 
 
 For my h^t fow^ 
 Athe^i^k stimpari^ Dl reserve ane 
 
 Laid by for you. 
 
 We've worn to crazy years thegither; 
 We^lltoyte about wi' ane anithers 
 Wi' tentie care Til flit thy tether, 
 
 To some hain'd rig, 
 Wharc ye may nobly rax your leather, 
 
 Wi* sma' fatigue. 
 
 TO 
 
lyi 
 
 TO A 
 
 MOUSE, 
 
 On turning up her Nesfy with the Plough^ 
 November 1785. 
 
 » s<d<i>®'^<^^^®®® « 
 
 VV EE, sleekit, cowrin, tim'rous beastle^ 
 O, what a panic's in thy breastie ! 
 Thou need na start awa sae hasty, 
 
 Wi' bickering brattle! 
 I wad be laithto rin an' chase thee, 
 
 Wi' rci\xx(^ Xing pattle ! 
 
 I'm truly sorry man's dominion 
 Has broken Nature's social union, 
 An' justifies that ill opinion, 
 
 Which makes thee startle 
 At me, thy poor, earth-born companion, 
 
 AvC fellow mortal! 
 
 I doubt na, whyles, but thou may thieve; 
 What then! poor beastie, thou maun live! 
 A daimen-ichr in a thrave 
 
 'S a sma' request: 
 
 ru 
 
132 
 
 I'll get a blessin wi' the lave, 
 
 And never miss't! 
 
 Thy wee bit loousie^ too, in ruin! 
 its silly wa's the vein's are strewin! 
 An' naething, nove, to big a neve ane, 
 
 ^' f^gg^g^ green ! 
 An' blealc December's winds ensuin, 
 
 Baith snell and keen? 
 
 Thou saw the fields laid bare an' waste. 
 An' weary winter comin fast. 
 An' cozie here, beneath the blast, 
 
 Thoii thought to dwell, 
 Till crash! the cruel cmilter past 
 
 Out thro' thy cell. 
 
 That wee bit heap o' leaves an' stibble. 
 Has cost thee mony a weary nibble! 
 Now thou'^ turn'd out, for a' thy trouble, 
 
 ^ But house or hald. 
 
 To thole the winter's sleety dribble, 
 
 An' cranreuch cauld! 
 
 But, mousie, thou art no thy lane, 
 In i^xo\mg for esigJxt may be vain: 
 *Jlie best-laid schemes o' mice an' men^ 
 
 Gang aft a-gley, 
 An' lea'e us nought but grief and pain. 
 
 For promis'd joy. 
 
 Stiii 
 
133 
 
 Still thou art blest, compar'd wi' me! 
 The present only toucheth thee : 
 But, Och! I backward cast my e'e, 
 
 On prospects drear! 
 An' forward, tho' I canna see^ 
 
 ^1 guess zxC fear! 
 
 A 
 WINTER NIGHTo 
 
 Toor naked wnicheS) ivheresce^er yon are, 
 7'bat hide the pelting ofthispiiylcss storm f 
 Hoiu shall your houseless heads, and unfed sides. 
 
 Tour looped and windoiu'd raggeduess, defend you, 
 
 ■Jrytim s-easons such as these. 
 
 SHAKESPEARE. 
 
 * V HEN biting BoreaSy fell and doure. 
 Sharp shivers thro' the kafless bowV; 
 When Phocbics gies a short-llv'd glow'r. 
 
 Far south the lift, 
 
 Dim-dark'ning thro' the flaky show'r. 
 
 Or whirling drift. 
 
 Ae night the storm the steeples rocked. 
 Poor labour sweet in sleep was locked, 
 
 M ^ While 
 
J34 
 
 *While burns, w? snawy wreeths up-choked. 
 Wild-eddying swirl, 
 
 Or thro' the mining outlet bocked, 
 
 Down headlong hurl. 
 
 List'ning, the doors an' winnocks rattle, 
 I thought me on the ourie cattle, 
 Or silly sheep, wha bide this brattle 
 'O' winter war, 
 ,And thro', the drift, deep-lairing sp rattle. 
 Beneath a scan 
 
 '^Ik happing bird, wee, helpless thing! 
 That, in the. merry months o' Spring, 
 ^Delighted me to hear thee sing, 
 
 What comes o' thee! 
 tWhare wilt thoucow'r thy chittering wing. 
 
 An' close thy e'^? 
 
 fEv'n you on murd'ring errands toil'd, 
 Xione from your savage homes exil'd. 
 The blood-stain'd roost, and sheep-cote spoll'd^ 
 
 My heart forgets, 
 "While pitiless the tempest wild 
 
 Sore on you beats. 
 
 Now Phoehe^ In her midnight reign, 
 Dark muffl'd, view'd the dreary plain; 
 ^till crouding thoughts, a pensive train, 
 Rose in. my soul. 
 
 When 
 
^35 
 
 When on my ear this plaintive stram, - \ 
 
 Slow solemn, stole-**- 
 
 «'BIow, blow, ye winds, with heavier gust! 
 f And freeze, thou bitter-biting frost i 
 f Descend, ye chilly, smothering snows! 
 ^ Not all your rage, as now, united shows 
 
 * More hard unkindness, unrelenting, 
 
 < Vengeful maliccj unrepenting, 
 
 f Than heav'n-illuminM Man on brother Man bestows T 
 
 * See stern Oppression's iron grip, 
 
 « Or mad Ambition's gory hand, 
 ^'Sending, like blood-hounds from the slip, 
 ^ Woe, want, and murder, o'er a land! 
 « Ev'n in the peaceful rural vale, 
 ^ Truth, weeping, tells the mournful tale^ 
 ^ How pamper'd Luxury, Flatt'ry by her sidcj 
 
 < The parasite empoisoning her ear, 
 
 « With all the servile wretches in the rear, 
 f Looks o'er proud Property, extended wide j 
 
 < And eyes the simple rustic Hind, 
 
 « Whose toil upholds the glittering show^ 
 « A creature of another kind, 
 
 < Some coarser substance, unrefin'd, 
 
 ^ PJac'd for her lordly use thus far, thus vile, below f 
 
 < Where, where is Love's fond, tender throe, 
 « With Lordly Honor's lofty brow, 
 
 < The pow'rs you proudly own? 
 
 M 2 j <I5 
 
1^6 
 
 * h there, beneath Love's noble name> 
 
 * Can harbour, dark, the selfish aim^ 
 
 < To bless himself alone ! 
 « Mark. Maiden-innocence a prey 
 
 « To love-pretending snares, 
 « This b'oasted Honor turns away, 
 
 < Shunning soft Pity's rising sway, 
 <^ Regardless of the tears, and unavaiHng pray'rs!^ 
 
 « Perhaps, this hour, in Misery's squalid nest, 
 
 * She strains your infant to her joyless breast, 
 < And with a Mother's fears, shrinks at the fockini^ 
 
 blast: 
 ^ Oh ye ! who, sunk in beds of down, 
 
 « Feel not a want but what yourselves create, 
 
 < Think, for a moment, on his wretched fate, 
 ^ Whom friends and Fortune quite disown! 
 
 « Ill-satisfy'd, keen Nature's clam'rous call, 
 
 « Stretch'd on his straw he lays himself to sleep, 
 • While thro' the ragged roof and chinky wall, 
 
 * Chill, o'er his slumbers, piles the drifty heap ! 
 « Think on the dungeon's grim confine, 
 
 « Where Guilt and poor Misfortune pine ! 
 « Guilt, erring Man, relenting view! 
 « But shall thy legal rage pursue 
 
 * The wretch, already crushed low, 
 
 « By cruel Fortune's undeserved blow ! 
 « Aflliction's sons are brothers in distress? 
 
 * A brother to felieve, how exquisite the bliss P 
 
 I heard 
 
I heard nae mair, for Chanticleer 
 Shook ofF the pouthery snaw. 
 
 And haird the morning with a cheer, 
 A cottage-rousing craw. 
 
 But deep this truth impressM my mind- 
 Thro' all his works abroad. 
 
 The heart benevolent and kind- 
 The most resembles God. 
 
 EPISTLE 
 TO 
 
 D A V I E, 
 
 A 
 
 BROTHER POET. 
 
 L 
 
 W HILE winds (r^iezff Ben-Lomond hh'W', 
 And bar the doors wi' driving snaw, 
 
 And hing us owre the ingle, 
 I set me down, to pass the time, 
 And spin a verse or twa o' rhyme, 
 lo hamely westlin jingle, 
 
 M 3 Whac 
 
While frosty winds blaw in the drift,. 
 
 Ben to the chimla lug, ^ 
 
 I grudge a wee the great folks' gift. 
 That live sae bien an' snug: 
 I tent less, and want less 
 Their roomy fire-side; 
 But hanker and canker. 
 To see their cursed pride* 
 
 IL 
 
 It's hardly in a body's pow'r, ' 
 
 To keep, at times, frae being sour. 
 
 To see how things are shar'd; 
 How best o' chiels are whiles in want. 
 While coofs on countless thousands rant> 
 
 And ken na how to wair't: 
 But Davie ^ lad, ne'er fash your head' 
 
 Tho' we hae little gear. 
 We're fit to win our daily bread. 
 As lang's we're hale and fier: 
 < Mair spear na, no fear na'*, 
 Auld age ne'er mind a feg. 
 The last o't, the warst o't, 
 Is only but to beg. 
 
 III. 
 
 To lie in kihis and barns at e'en, 
 
 When banes are craz'd, and bluid is thin; 
 
 Is 
 f Ramsay* 
 
139 
 
 Is, doubtless, great distress! 
 Yet then content could make us blest; 
 Ev'n then, sometimes we'd snatch a taste 
 
 Of truest happiness. 
 The honest heart that's free frae a' 
 
 Intended fraud or guile. 
 However Fortune kick the ba'. 
 Has ay some cause to smile. 
 And mind still, you'll find still, 
 
 A comfort this nae sma'; 
 Nae mair then, we'll care then, 
 Nae farther can we fa'. 
 
 IV. 
 
 What tho', like commoners of air. 
 We wander out we know not where. 
 
 But either house or hal' ! 
 Yet Nature's charms, the hills and woods. 
 The sweeping vales, and foaming floods, 
 
 Are free alike to all. 
 In days when daisies deck the ground. 
 
 And blackbirds whistle clear. 
 With honest joy our hearts will bound, 
 To see the coming year: 
 
 On braes when we please, then. 
 
 We'll sit and sowth a tune; 
 Syne rhyme till't, we'll time till't. 
 And sing't when we hae done. 
 
140 
 
 V. 
 
 It's no in titles nor in rank; 
 
 If s no in wealth like London Bankj^ 
 
 To purchase peace and rest;^ 
 It's no in makin muckle mair^ 
 It's no in books; it's no in lear. 
 
 To make us truly blest: 
 If Happiness hae not her seat 
 
 And centre in the breast. 
 We may be wise, or rich, or great. 
 But never can be blest: 
 
 Nae treasures, nor pleasures, 
 
 Could make us happy lang; 
 The heart ay's the part ay, 
 That makes us right or wrang. 
 
 VL 
 
 Think ye, that sic as you and I, 
 
 Wha drudge and drive thro' wet an' dry^ 
 
 Wi' never-ceasing toil; 
 Think ye, are we less blest than they, 
 Wha scarcely tent us in their way. 
 
 As hardly worth their while? 
 Alas ! how aft in haughty mood, 
 
 God's creatures they oppress? 
 Or else, neglecting a' that's guid> 
 
 They riot in excess! 
 
 Baith 
 
141 
 
 Baith careless, and fearless, 
 
 Of either heav'n or hell ! 
 E&teeming, and deeming 
 
 It's a' an idle tale! 
 
 VIL 
 
 Then let us chearfu' acquiesce; 
 Nor make our scanty pleasures less. 
 
 By pining at our state; 
 And, even should misfortunes comCi 
 I, here wha sit, hae met wi' some, 
 
 An\s thankfu' for them yet. 
 They gie the wit of age to youth*, 
 
 They let us ken oursel; 
 They make us see the naked truth. 
 The real guid and ill. 
 Tho' losses and crosses, 
 
 Be lessons right severe. 
 There's wit there, ye'U get there, 
 Ye'il 'find nae other where. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 But tent mQyDaviej Ace ©'Hearts! 
 (To say aught less wad wrang the cartes, 
 
 And flattery I detest). 
 This life has joys for you and I; 
 And joys that riches ne'er could buy 5 
 
 And joys the very best. 
 
 There's 
 
142 
 
 There's a' the Pleasures 0^ the Hearii 
 
 The lover an' the frien'; 
 Ye hae your Meg^ your dearest part^ 
 And I my darlmg.y<?^;z/ 
 
 It warms me, it charms me. 
 To mention but her name;: 
 It heats me, it beets me. 
 Audits me a' on flame 1 
 
 IX. 
 
 O, all ye Pow'rs who rule above \ 
 O Thouy whose very self art love I 
 
 Thou know'st my words sincere f 
 The life-blood streaming tKro' my hearty ,. 
 Or my more dear immortal part. 
 
 Is not more fondly dear! 
 When heart-corroding care and griefs 
 
 Deprive my soul of rest. 
 Her dear idea brings relief 
 And solace to my breast. 
 Thou Beingy AlUseeing, 
 
 O hear my fervent pray'r j;. 
 Still take her, and make her 
 Thy most peculiar carei 
 
 X 
 
 All hail, ye tender feelings dear! 
 The smile of love, the friendly tear. 
 
 The sympathetic glow 5 Long 
 
143 
 
 Xong sincCj this world^s thorny ways 
 Had numbered out my weary days. 
 
 Had it not been for you! 
 Fate still has blest me with a friend^, 
 
 In every care and ill; 
 And oft a more endearing band, 
 A tie more tender still. 
 It lightens, it brightens, 
 The tenebrific scene, 
 To meet with, and greet witli 
 My Davie or my Jean. 
 
 XL 
 
 O how that name inspires my style! 
 The words come skelpin, rank and fik., 
 
 Amaist before I ken ! 
 The ready measure rins as fine, 
 As Phoebus and the famous Nine 
 
 Were glowrin owre my pen. 
 My spaviet P^^^j-^j will limp. 
 
 Till anee he's fairly het; 
 And then he'll hilch, and stilt, and jimp, 
 And rin an unco fit: 
 
 But lest then, the beast then. 
 Should rue this hasty ride, 
 I'll light now, and dight now 
 His sweaty, wizen'd hide* 
 
 THE 
 
144 
 
 THE 
 
 LAMENT. 
 
 OCCASIONED BY THE 
 
 UNFORrUNATE ISSUE 
 
 OF A 
 
 FRIEND'S AMOUR. 
 
 Alas ! how oft does Goodness -wound hself! 
 And siucet AffQction ^rove ihe spring of Woe* 
 
 HOME. 
 
 L 
 
 \J Thou pale Orb, that silent shines, 
 
 While care-untroubled mortals sleep! 
 Thou seest a wretch that inly pines. 
 
 And wanders here to wail and weep! 
 With woe I nightly vigils keep, 
 
 Beneath thy wan, unwarming beamj 
 And mourn, in lamentation deep. 
 
 How life and love are all a dream. 
 
 IL 
 
^45 
 
 IL 
 
 € joyless view thy rays adorn 
 
 The faintly-marked, distant hill; 
 I joyless view thy trembling horn. 
 
 Reflected in the gurgling rill: 
 'My fondly-fluttering heart, be still! 
 
 Thou busy pow'r. Remembrance, cease! 
 Ah! must the agonizing thrill 
 
 For ever bar returning Peace! 
 
 III. 
 
 No idly-felgn'd poetic pains, 
 
 My sad, love-lorn lamentings claim; 
 No shepherd's pipe — Arcadian strains; * 
 
 No fabled tortures, quaint and tames 
 The plighted faith; the mutual flame; 
 
 The oft attested Pow'rs above; 
 The promts' d father' s tender name; 
 
 These were the pledges of my love; 
 
 IV, 
 
 Encircled in her clasping arms. 
 
 How have the raptur'd moments flown: 
 
 How have I v/ish'd for Fortune's charms. 
 For her dear sake, and her's alone ! 
 
 And must I think it! is she gone. 
 My secret heart's exulting boast? ' 
 
 N And 
 
146 
 
 A.^d does she heedless hear my groan? 
 And is she ever, ever los.t ? 
 
 Oh! can she bear so base a heart. 
 
 So lest to honour, lost to truth, 
 As from the fondest lover part, 
 
 The plighted husband of her youth! 
 Alas! Life's path may be unsmooth! 
 
 Her way may lie thro' rough distress! 
 Then, who her pangs arid pains will soothe. 
 
 Her sorrows share, and make them less ? 
 
 VI. 
 
 Ye winged hours that o'er us past, 
 
 Enraptur'd more^ the more enjoy'd, 
 Your dear remembrance in my breast, 
 
 My fondly-treasur'd thoughts employ'd. 
 That breast, how dreary now, and void, 
 
 For her: too scanty once of room! 
 Ev'n ev'ry ray of hope destroy'd, 
 
 And not a luisk to gild the gloom! 
 
 VII. 
 
 The morn that warns th' approaching day, 
 AM-akcs me up to toil and woe: 
 
 I sec 
 
147 
 
 I see the hours hi long> array, 
 
 That I must suffer, Ungerlng, sIow<> 
 
 Full- many a pang, and many a throe, 
 Keen recollection's direful train. 
 
 Must wring my soul, e'er Phoebus, iow^- - 
 Shall kiss the distant, western main, 
 
 VIIL 
 
 And when my nightly couch I try, 
 
 Sore harassed out with care and giiei. 
 My toil-beat nerves, and tear- worn eye. 
 
 Keep watchings with the nightly thief: 
 Gr if I slumber, Fancy, chief, 
 
 Reigns haggard-wild, in sore affright: 
 Ev'n day, alL bitter, brings relief. 
 
 From such a horror-breathing night. 
 
 IX. 
 
 O! thou bright Queen, who o'er th' expanse. 
 
 Now highest reign'st, with boundless sway! 
 Oft has thy silent-marking glance 
 
 Observ'd us, fondly-wand'ring, stray! 
 The time, unheeded, sped away, 
 
 While Love's luxurious pulse beat high. 
 Beneath thy silver-gleaming ray, 
 
 To mark the mutual-kindling eye 
 
 N 2 % 
 
I4S 
 
 X. 
 
 Oh ! scenes in strong remembrance set?' 
 
 Scenes never, never to return! 
 Scenes, if in stupor I forget, 
 
 Again I feel, again I burn ! 
 From ev'ry joy and pleasure torn. 
 
 Life's weary vale Til wander thro' j^ 
 And hopeless, comfortless, I'll mourn 
 
 A faithless woman's broken vow. 
 
 DESPONDENCY; 
 
 AN 
 ODE. 
 
 I. 
 
 O^PR^^^'^ "^^^^^ 8^^^f> ofP^^ss'd with care, 
 A burden more than I can bear, 
 
 I set me down and sigh; 
 O Life! thou art a galling load. 
 Along a rough, a weary road, 
 
 To wretches, such as I ! 
 
 Dhrj^ 
 
149 
 
 I5im-backward as I cast my view, 
 
 What slck'ning scenes appear! 
 What sorrows yet may pierce me thro', 
 Too justly I may fear! 
 Still caring, despairing, 
 
 Must be my bitter doom ; 
 My woes here shall close ne'er V 
 But with tha-closing tomb! 
 
 11- 
 
 Happy, ye sons of busy-life. 
 Who, equal to the bustling strife, 
 
 No other view regard! 
 Ev'n when the w^ished end'^ denyM, 
 Yet while the busy tneans are ply'd^ 
 
 They bring their own reward : 
 Whilst I, a hope-abandon'd wight, 
 
 Unfitted with an aim^ 
 Meet ev'ry sad returning night, 
 And joyless mourn the same, 
 You bustling, and justling. 
 
 Forget each grief and pain^ 
 I listless, yet restless. 
 Find ev'ry prospect vain, 
 
 iii: 
 
 How blest the solitary's lot, 
 Who, all-forgetting, all-forgot, 
 
 N ^ Within 
 
150. 
 
 Within his humble cell, 
 The cavern wild with tangling roots^. 
 Sits o'er his newly-gather'd fruits, 
 
 / Beside his crystal well ! 
 Or haply, to his ev'ning thought, 
 
 By unfrequented stream, 
 Tiie ways of men are distant brought^ 
 A faint-collected dream : 
 While praising, and raising 
 
 His thoughts to Heav'ft on high,^ 
 As wand'ringj meand'ring, 
 He views the solemn sky. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Than I, no lonely hermit plac'd 
 Where never human footstep trac'd^ 
 
 Less fit to play the partj 
 The lucky moment to improve. 
 And just to stop, znd Just to move, 
 
 With self-respecting art: 
 But ah I those pleasures, loves, andjoyo^ 
 
 Which I too keenly taste. 
 The solitary can despise. 
 Can want, and yet be blest! 
 He needs not, he heeds not, 
 
 Or human love or hate, 
 Whilst I here must cry here. 
 At perfidy ingrate! 
 
151 
 
 V. 
 
 Oh! enviable, early days, 
 
 When dancing thoughtless pleasure's maze^. 
 
 To care, to guilt nknown ! 
 How ill exchanged for riper times. 
 To feel the follies, or the crimes. 
 
 Of others, or my own ! 
 Ye tiny elves that guiltless sporty 
 
 Like linnets in the bush, 
 Ye little know the ills ye courts 
 - When manhood is your wish [ 
 The losses, the crosses, 
 
 Thzt active man engage f 
 The fears all, the tears allj 
 Of dim-declining age! 
 
 W I N T E R:: 
 
 A DIRGE. 
 
 I. 
 
 
 X HE wintry west extends his blast. 
 
 And hail and rain does blaw; 
 Or, the stormy north sends driving forth 
 
 The blinding deet and snawj 
 While tumbling brown, the burn comes down, 
 . And roars frae bank to brae^ 
 
 And 
 
15-2 
 
 And bird and beast in covert resty 
 And pass the heartless day. . 
 
 II. 
 
 ^^ The sweeping blast, the sky o'ercast V 
 
 The joyless winter-day, 
 Let others fear, — to mc more dear 
 
 Than all the pride of May : 
 The tempest's howl, it soothes my soul, 
 
 My griefs it seems to join 5 
 The leafless trees my fancy please^ 
 
 Their fate resembles mine ! 
 
 III. 
 
 Thou Powr supreme^ whose mighty scheme^ 
 
 These woes of mine fulfil. 
 Here, firm, Irest, they ;/^^j/ be best. 
 
 Because they are thy will! 
 Then all I want — (O, do thou grant' 
 
 This one request of mine!) 
 Since to enjoy thou dost deny,. 
 
 Assist me to resign. 
 
 TIJE 
 ^ Dr. Young. 
 
^S3 
 
 THE 
 
 COTTER'S 
 SATURDAY NIGHT. 
 
 INSCRIBED TO,R. A****, ESQ^ 
 
 Let net ambition tnock their tncfid toil, 
 Their homely joys, and desthy obscure; 
 
 Nor grandeur' hear, vjith a disdainful smilc^ 
 ^h^- short kit si/n^li amtah of the poor, 
 
 GRAY., 
 
 t 
 
 i\1y lovM, my honour'd, much respected friend!" 
 
 No mercenary bard hrs homage pays; 
 With honest pride, ! scorn each selfish end, 
 
 My dearest meed, a friend^s esteem and praise: 
 To you I sing, in simple Scottish lays, 
 
 The lowly train in life's sequestered scene; 
 The native feelings strong, the guileless ways; 
 
 What A** *^ in a cottage would have been; 
 Ah ! tho' his worth unknown, far happier there, I ween ! 
 
 fi. 
 
 November chill blaws loud wi* angry sugh; 
 The shortening winter-day is near a close; 
 
 The 
 
154 
 
 The miry beasts retreating frae the pleugh; 
 
 The t)lack'ning trains o' craws to their repose 5; 
 The toil-worn Cotter frae his labour, goes, 
 This night his> weekly moil is at an end, 
 Collects his spades, his mattocks, and his hoes. 
 Hoping the morn in ease and rest to' spend, 
 *And weary, o'er the moor, his course does hameward 
 bend. 
 
 HI. 
 
 At length his lonely cot appears In viev/, 
 
 Beneath the shelter of an aged tree \ 
 Th' expectant wee-things^ todlin, st^cher through 
 
 To meet their dad, wi' flichterin noise an' glee. 
 His wee bit ingle, blinkin bonnily. 
 
 His clean hearth-stane, his thriftie ivifie^^ smile. 
 The lisping infant prattling oh his knee, 
 
 Does a' his weary carking cares beguile, 
 An' makes him quite forget his labor an' his toiL 
 
 IV. 
 
 Belyve the elder bairns come drapping In, 
 At service out, amang the farmers roun'; 
 
 Some ca' the pleugh, some herd, some tentie rin 
 A cannie errand to a neebor town: 
 
 Their eldest hope, their Jenny ^ woman grown, 
 hi youthfu' bloom, love sparkling in her e'e, 
 
 Comes 
 
^55 
 
 Comes hame, perhapsy to shew a braw new gown. 
 Or deposite her sair-^won penny fee, 
 To help her parents dear, if they in hardship be. 
 
 V. 
 
 Wi' joy unfeign'd brothers and sistefs meet, 
 
 An' each for other's weelfare kindly speirs: 
 The social hours, swift-wing'd unnotic'd fleets 
 
 Each tells the uncos that he sees or hears ; 
 The parents, partial, -eye their hopeful yearsj 
 
 Anticipation forward points the view. 
 The mothery wi' her needle an' her sheers, 
 
 Gars auld claes look amaist as weel's the new; 
 ^\\t father mixes a' wi' admonition due. 
 
 Their master's an' their mistress's command. 
 The younkers a' are warned to obey, 
 
 An' mind their labours wi' an eydent hand. 
 An' ne'er, tho' out o' sight, to jauk.or playj 
 
 * An' O! be sure to fear the Lord alway! 
 
 < An' mind your diity^ duly, m.orn an' night! 
 < Lest in temptation's path ye gang astray, 
 
 < Implore his counsel and assisting might; 
 They never sought in Vain, that sought tlae Lord ; 
 
 right/ 
 
 VIL 
 
156 
 mi. 
 
 But hark! a rap comes gently to the Aooty 
 
 jfennyy wha kens the meaning o' the same. 
 Tells how a neebor iad cam o'er the moor. 
 
 To do some errands, and convoy her hame. 
 The wily mother sees the conscious flame 
 
 Sparkle in Jennfs e'e, and flush her cheek; 
 With hccirt-struck anxious care, inquires his name. 
 
 While Jenny hcifHins is afraid to speak; 
 Weel pleas'd the mother hears, it's nae wild, worthless 
 rake. 
 
 VIIL 
 
 Wi' kindly welcome Jenny brings him ben; 
 
 A strappan youth; he takes the mother's eye; 
 Blythe Jenny sees the visit's no ill ta'en; 
 
 The father cracks of horses, pleughs, and kye* 
 The youngster's artless heart o'erflows wi'joy, 
 
 But blate and laithfu', scarce can weel behave; 
 The mother, wi' a woman's wiles, can spy 
 
 What makes the youth sae bashfu' an' sae graven 
 Weel pleas'd to think her bairn's respected like the 
 lave. 
 
 IX. 
 
 O happy love! where love like this is found! 
 O heart-felt raptures! bliss beyond compare! 
 
 I've 
 
^57 
 
 Vve paced much this weary, mortal rounds 
 
 And sage Experience bids me this declare— 
 ^ If Heav'n a draught of heav'nly pleasure spare, 
 
 < One cordial in this melancholy vale, 
 « 'Tis when a youthful, loving, modest pair, 
 
 * In others arms breathe out the tender tale, 
 Beneath the milk-white thorn that scents the ev'ning 
 
 « gale.' 
 
 Is there, in human form, that bears a heart — 
 
 A wretch! a villain! lost to love and truth! 
 That can, with studied, sly, ensnaring art. 
 
 Betray sweet Jemifs unsuspecting youth? 
 Curse on his perjur'darts! dissembling smooth! 
 
 Are honor, virtue, conscience, all exiFd? 
 Is there no pity, no relenting ruth. 
 
 Points to the parents fondlhig o'er their child? 
 Then paints the ruin'd maid, and their distraction 
 
 wild! 
 
 IX. 
 
 But now the supper crowns their simple board, 
 Thchczhomc parritchy chief o' Scotia's food: 
 
 The soupe their only Hawkie does afford, 
 
 That 'yont the hallan snugly chows her cood: 
 
 The dame brings forth in complimental mood, 
 
 To 
 
158 
 
 To grace the lad, her weel-hainM kebbuck, fell. 
 All' aft he's prest, an' aft he ca's it guid; 
 The frugal wifie, garrulous, will tell. 
 How 'twas a towmond auld, sin' lint was i' the bell. 
 
 XII. 
 
 TJie cheerfu' supper done, wi' serious face. 
 
 They, round the ingle, form a circle wide 5 
 The sire turns o'er, wi patriarchal grace. 
 
 The big ha^-Bihley ance his father's pride: 
 His bonnet rev'rently is laid aside. 
 
 His lyart hafFets wearing thin an' bare; 
 Those strains that once did sweet in Zion glide, 
 
 He wales a portion with judicious care; 
 And ^ Let us worship God!' he saya, with solemn air 
 
 xiii. 
 
 They chant their artless notes in simple guise; 
 
 They tune their hearts, by far the noblest aim : 
 Perhaps Dundee's wild warbling measures rise. 
 
 Or plaintive Martyrs^ worthy of the name; 
 Or noble Eight beets the heav'n-ward flame. 
 
 The sweetest far of Scotia's holy lays: 
 Compared with these, Italian trills are tame; 
 
 The tickl'd ears no heart-felt raptures raise; 
 Nae unison hae they with our Creator's praise, 
 
 XIV. 
 
159 
 
 XIV. 
 
 The priest-like father reads the sacred page. 
 
 How Abram was the Friend of God on high^ 
 Or, Moses bad eternal warfare wage 
 
 With Amalek'% ungracious progeny; 
 Or how the ra'^al Bard did groaning lye 
 
 Beneath the stroke of Heavn's avenging ire 5 
 Or JiPi's pathetic plaiiit^ and wailing cry 3: 
 
 Or rapt Isaiah's wild, seraphic fire; 
 Or other Jioly seers that tune the sacred lyre. 
 
 XV. 
 
 Perhaps the Christian Volume Is the theme. 
 
 How guiltless blood for guilty man was shed; 
 How He^ who bore in Heav'n the second name, 
 
 Had not on earth whereon to lay his head: 
 How His first followers and servants sped; 
 
 The precepts sage they wrote to many a land: 
 How he^ v/ho lone in Patmos banished, 
 
 Saw in the sun a mighty angel stand; 
 And heard great BaVlon''^ doom pronounc'd by Heav'nV 
 
 command. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 Then kneeling down to Heave m's Eternal King, 
 The saint y xhtfather^ and the husbandy prays: 
 
 O 2 Hope 
 
ibo 
 
 Hope ^ springs exulting on triumphant wing*/ 
 That thus they all shall meet in future days: 
 
 There, ever bask in uncreated rays. 
 
 No more to sigh, or shed the bitter tear. 
 
 Together hymning their Creator*^ praise. 
 In such society, yet still more dear; 
 While circling time moves round in an eternal spherti 
 
 XVII. 
 
 Compared with this how poor Religion's pride. 
 
 In all the pomp of method and of art, 
 When men display to congregations wide, 
 
 Devotion's ev'ry grace, except the heart! 
 The Pow^r^ incens'd, the pageant will desert, 
 
 The pompous strain, the sacerdotal stole*. 
 But haply in some cottage i^iX ^art. 
 
 May hear, well-pleas'd, the language of the soul|, 
 And in his Book of Life the inmates poor enroll. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 Then homeward all take ofF their sev'ral way^; 
 
 The youngling cottagers retire to rest: 
 The parent-pair their secret homage pay. 
 
 And proffer up to Heav'n the warm request, 
 That He who stills the raven's clam'rous nest, 
 
 And decks the lilv fair in flow'ry pride, 
 
 Would 
 
 * Pone's Windsor Forest. 
 
i6i 
 
 Would in the way His wisdom sees the best, 
 For them and for their little ones provide; 
 But chiefly, in their hearts with grace divine preside. 
 
 XIX, 
 
 From scenes like these, old Scotia's grandeur springs ^ 
 
 That makes her loy'd at home, rever'd abroad : 
 Princes and lords are but the breath of kings, 
 
 * An honest man's the noblest work of God :* 
 And certesy in fair virtue's heav'nly road. 
 
 The cottage leaves xht palace far behind; 
 What is a lordling's pomp ! a cumbrous load. 
 
 Disguising oft the wretch of hum.an kind. 
 Studied in arts of hell, in wickedness refin'dl 
 
 , O Scotia! my dear, my native soil! 
 
 I For whom my warmest wish to Heav'n is sent f 
 
 Long may thy hardy sons of rustic toil, 
 \ Be blest with health, and pieace, and sweet con- 
 I tent! 
 
 And, O! may Heav'n, their simple lives prevent 
 It From luxury's contagion, weak and vile! 
 
 Then, howe'er crowns and coronets be rent, 
 A virtuous populace may rise the while. 
 And stand a wall of fire around their much-Iov'd isle; 
 
 O 3 XXL 
 
l62 
 
 XXL 
 
 O Thou! who pour'd the patriotic tide 
 
 That stream'd thro' Wallace^s undaunted heart; 
 Who di^r'd to, nobly^ stem tyrannic pride, 
 
 Or nobly die, the second glorious part, 
 (The patriot's Gody peculiarly thou art, 
 
 His friend, inspirer, guardian, and reward!) 
 O never, never, Scctias realm desert; 
 
 But still xht patriot y and the patriot-hrd, 
 In bright succession raise, her ornament and guard! 
 
 MAN WAS MADE TO MOURN: 
 
 A DIRGE. 
 
 I. 
 
 W HEN chill November's surly blast 
 
 Made fields and forests bare. 
 One ev'ning, as I wand'red forth 
 
 Along the banks of jiyr, 
 I spy'd a man, whose aged step 
 
 Seem'd weary, worn with care-, 
 His face was f urrow'd o'er with years, 
 
 And hoary was his hair. 
 
 II. 
 
 Young stranger, whither wand'rest thou! 
 (Began the rev'rend sage-,) 
 
 Does 
 
Does thirst of wealth thy step constralnj 
 Or youthful pleasure's rage? 
 
 Or haply, prest with cares and woes, 
 Too soon thou hast began 
 
 To wander forth, with me, to moum 
 The miseries of man. 
 
 m. 
 
 The sun that overhangs yon moors. 
 
 Out-spreading far and wide, 
 Where hundreds labour to support 
 
 A haughty lordling's pride; 
 I've seen yon weary winter-sun 
 
 Twice forty times return; 
 And ev'ry time has added proofsjr 
 
 That man was made to mourn, 
 
 IV. 
 
 Oman! while in thy early years^ 
 
 How prodigal of time ! 
 Mispending all thy precious hours, 
 
 Thy glorious youthful prime ! 
 Alternate follies take the sway: 
 
 Licentious passions burn; 
 Which tenfold force gives nature's law, 
 
 That man was made to mourn. 
 
 V. 
 
164 
 
 Look not alone on youthful prime^. 
 
 Or manhood's active mighty 
 Man then is useful to his kind. 
 
 Supported is his right. 
 But see him on the edge of life. 
 
 With cares and sorrows worn. 
 Then age and want, Oh! ill-match'd pair I' 
 
 Show man was made to mourn. 
 
 VI- 
 
 A few seem favourites of fatc> 
 
 In pleasure's lap carest j 
 Yet, think not all the rich and great 
 
 Are likewise truly blest,^ 
 But, Oh! what crowds in evVy land,. 
 
 Are wretched and forlorn. 
 Thro' weary life this lesson learn. 
 
 That man was made to mourn. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Many and sharp the numerous ills 
 
 Inwoven with our frame! 
 More pointed still we make ourselves. 
 
 Regret, remorse, and shame! 
 And man, whose heav'n-erected face. 
 
 The smiles oi Jove adorn, 
 
 Man's 
 
i6s 
 
 Man's inhumanity to man 
 
 Makes countless thousands mourn? 
 
 VIIL 
 
 See yonder poor, o'erlabour'd wight^ 
 
 So abject, mean, and vile, 
 Who bags a brother of the earth 
 
 To give him leave to toil ; 
 And see his lordlyj^Z/y^zt/ worm 
 
 The poor petition spurn, 
 Unmindful, tho' a weeping wife. 
 
 And helpless offspring mourn* 
 
 IX. 
 
 If Fm designed yon lordling's slave^ 
 
 By Nature's law designed, 
 Why was an indeperident wish 
 
 E'er planted in my mind? 
 If not, why am I subject to 
 
 His cruelty, or scorn? 
 Or why has man the will and pow'r 
 
 To make his fellow mourn? 
 
 X. 
 
 Tet, let not this too much, my son. 
 Disturb thy youthful breast: 
 
 This 
 
i66 
 
 This partial view of human-kind 
 
 ^ Is surely not the last! 
 The poor, oppressed, honest man 
 
 Had never, sure> been born. 
 Had there not been some recompence 
 
 To comfort those that mourn! 
 
 XL 
 
 O Death! the poor man's dearest friend^ 
 
 The kindest and the best! 
 Welcame the hour my aged limbs 
 
 Are laid with thee at rest! 
 The great, the wealthy fear thy blow,. 
 
 From pomp and pleasure torn; 
 But, Oh! a blest relief to those 
 
 That weary-laden mourn! 
 
 A PRAYER 
 
 IN THE 
 
 PROSPECT OF DEATH. 
 
 I. 
 
 vJ Thou unknown, Almighty Cause 
 
 Of all my hope and fear ! 
 In whose dread presence, ere an hour. 
 
 Perhaps I must appear I 
 
 If 
 
167 
 11. 
 
 If I have wander'd in those paths 
 
 Of life I ought to shun; 
 As somethings loudly, in my breast^ 
 
 Remonstrates I have done; 
 
 III. 
 
 Thou know'st that thou hast formed me 
 With passions wild and strong; 
 
 And listening to their witching voice 
 Has often led me wrong. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Where human weakness has come short, 
 Ox frailty stept aside, / 
 
 Do thou, All-Good I for such thou art. 
 In shades of darkness hide. 
 
 V. 
 
 Where with intention I have errM, 
 
 No other plea I have, 
 But, thou art good; and goodness Still 
 
 Delighteth to forgive. 
 
 STANZAS 
 
i68 
 
 STANZAS 
 
 ON THE 
 
 SAME OCCASION. 
 
 VV HY am I loth to leave this earthly scene! 
 
 Have I so found it full of pleasing charms? 
 Some drops of joy with draughts of ill between: 
 
 Some gleams of sunshine mid renewing storms 
 Is it departing pangs my soul alarms? 
 
 Or death's unlovely, dreary, dark abode ? 
 For guilt, for guiit, my terrors are in arms^ 
 
 I tremble to approach an angry God, 
 And justly smart beneath his sin-avenging rod. 
 
 Fain would I say, ^ Forgive my foiil offence ?' 
 
 Fain promise never more to disobey; 
 But, should my author health again dispense, 
 
 Again I might desert fair virtue's way; 
 Again in folly's path might go astray; 
 
 Again exalt the brute and sink the man; 
 Then how should I for heav'nly mercy pray, 
 
 Who act so counter heav'nly mercy's plan? 
 Who sin so oft have mourn'd, yet to temptation ran? 
 
 O thou. 
 
169 
 
 O thou, Great Governor of all below 1 
 
 If I may dare a lifted eye to thee. 
 Thy nod can make the tempest cease to blow, 
 
 Or still the tumult of the raging sea: 
 With that controuling pow*r assist ev'n me. 
 
 Those headlong, furious passions to confine^ 
 For all unfit I feel my powers to be. 
 
 To rule their torrent inth' allowed line; 
 •O, aid me with thy help, Omnipotence Divine! 
 
 Lying at a Reverend Friend^ s house me nighty the Authdv 
 left the following Verses in the room where he slept ^ 
 
 \J Thou dread powV, who reign'st above f 
 
 I know thou wilt me hear: 
 When for this scene of peace and love, 
 
 I make my pray'r sincere. 
 
 II. 
 
 The hoary sire — the mortal stroke. 
 
 Long, long, be pleas'd to spare j 
 To bless his little filial flock. 
 
 And show w^hat good men arc. 
 
 p m. 
 
tyo 
 
 HI. 
 
 ShjS, who her lovely ofFspring cyeg 
 
 With tender hopes and fears, 
 O bless her with a mother's joys^ 
 
 Put spare a mother's tears! 
 
 IV. 
 
 Their hope, their stay, their darling youth, 
 
 In manhood's dawning blush; 
 Bless him, thou God of love and truth. 
 
 Up to a parent's vrish. 
 
 Y. 
 
 The beauteous, seraph sister-band. 
 
 With earnest tears I pray, 
 Thou know'st the snares on ev'ry hand. 
 
 Guide ihou their steps alway* 
 
 VL 
 
 When soon or late they reach that coast, 
 
 O^er life's rough ocean driv'n. 
 May they rejoice, no wand'rer lost, 
 
 A family inheav'n! 
 
 THE 
 
171 
 
 THE 
 
 FIRST PSALM. 
 
 X HE man, In life where-ever plac'd. 
 Hath happiness in store, 
 Who walks not in the wicked^s way^ 
 Nor learns their guilty lore ! 
 
 Nor from the seat of scornful pride 
 
 Casts forth his eyes abroad, 
 But with humility and awe 
 
 Still walks before his God* 
 
 That man shall flourish like the tree^ 
 
 Which by the streamlets grow; 
 The fruitful top is spread on high, 
 
 And firm the root below. 
 
 But he whose blossom buds In guilt 
 
 Shall to the ground be cast. 
 And like the rootless stubble tost. 
 
 Before the sweeping blast. 
 
 V % ' Kor 
 
172 
 
 For why ? that God the good adore 
 Hath giv'n them peace and rest. 
 
 But hath decreed that wicked meii^ 
 Shall ne'er be truly ble&t. 
 
 PRAYER 
 
 Under the Pressure of Violent Anguish. 
 
 \J Thou great Being! what Thou art 
 
 Surpasses me to know: 
 Yet sure I am, that known to Thee 
 
 Are all Thy works below. 
 
 Thy creature here before Thee stands, 
 
 AH wretched and distrest; 
 Yet sure those ills that wring my soul 
 
 Obey Thy high behest 
 
 Sure Thou, Almighty, canst not act 
 
 From cruelty or wrath ! 
 O, free my weary eyes from tears, 
 
 Or close them fast in death ! 
 
 But 
 
^71 
 
 Eut if I must afflicted be. 
 
 To suit some wise design; 
 Then, man my souj with firm resolves 
 
 To bear and not repine ! 
 
 THE 
 
 FIRST SIX VERSES 
 
 OF THE 
 
 NINETIETH PSALM. 
 
 \J Thou, the first, the greatest friend 
 
 Of all the human race! 
 Whose strong right-hand has ever been 
 
 Their stay and dwelling-place! 
 
 Before the mountains heav'd their heads 
 
 Beneath Thy forming hand. 
 Before this ponderous globe itself. 
 
 Arose at Thy command; 
 
 That Pow'r which rais'd and still upholds 
 
 This universal frame, 
 From countless, unbeginning time 
 
 Wa$ ever still the same. 
 
 P 3 Those 
 
174 
 
 Those mighty periods of years 
 Which seem to us so vast, 
 : Appear no more before Thy sight 
 Than yesterday that's past« 
 
 Thou giv'st the word: Thy creature, man]>, 
 
 Is to existence brought; 
 Again Thou say'st, * Ye sons of men, 
 
 ^ Return ye into nought!* 
 
 Thou layest them, with all their cares, 
 
 In everlasting sleep; 
 As with a- flood Thau tak'st them ofF 
 
 With overwhelming sweep. ^ 
 
 They flourish like the morning flow'r. 
 
 In beauty's pride array'd: 
 But long ere night cut down it lies 
 
 Ali wither'd and decay'd. 
 
 Ta 
 
^75 
 
 TO A 
 
 MOUNTAIN DAISY, 
 
 On fuming one down^ with the Plough ^ inj^prili^du^ 
 
 W EE, modest, crimson-tipped fiOW'r3 
 Thou's met me in an evil hour; 
 For I maun crush amang the stoure 
 
 Thy slender sterna 
 To spare thee now is past my pow'r. 
 
 Thou bonnie gem,. 
 
 Alas! its no thy neebor sweet, 
 The bonnie Larky companion meet! 
 Bending thee^mang the dewy weet! 
 
 Wi' spreckrd breast. 
 When upward- springing, blythe, to greet 
 
 The purpling east. 
 
 Cauld blew the bitter-biting north 
 Upon thy early humble birth; 
 Y^ chsarfully thou glinted forth 
 
 Amid thc'Storm^ 
 
 Scarce 
 
176 
 
 Scarce rear'd above the parent-earth 
 Thy tender form. 
 
 The flaunting flow'rs our gardens yield. 
 High sheltering woods and wa's maun shield ^^ 
 But thou, beneath the random bield 
 
 O* clod or stane. 
 Adorns the histie stthble-field^ 
 
 Unseen, aline* 
 
 There, in thy scanty mantle clad. 
 Thy snawie bosom sun-ward spready= 
 Thou lifts thy unassuming head 
 
 In humble guise ;^ 
 But now the share uptears thy bed. 
 
 And low thou liesF 
 
 Such is the fate of artless maid, 
 ^vjtctjftow^ret of the rural shade! 
 By love's simplicity betray'd. 
 
 And guileless trusf^ 
 Till she, like thee, all soil'd, is laid 
 
 Low i' the dust- 
 Such is the fate of simple bard. 
 On life's rough ocean luckless starr^dF 
 Unskilful he to note the card 
 
 Of prudent lorey 
 Till billows rage, and gaies blovv hard. 
 
 And whelm him o'er ? 
 
 Such 
 
177 
 
 Such fate to suffering worth is giv'n, 
 
 "Who long with wants and woes has striv^n^ 
 
 By human pride or cunning driv'n 
 
 To misery's brink. 
 Till wrenched of ev^ry stay but Hean/n^ 
 
 H^^ruin'd^ sink! 
 
 Ev'n thou who mourn^st the Daisy's fate^. 
 That fate is thine — no distant datej 
 Stern Kuin^s plough-share drives, elate. 
 
 Full on thy bloom, 
 Till crush'd beneath the furrow's weight,. 
 
 Shall be thy doom I 
 
 TO 
 
 R U I N» 
 
 I. 
 
 Ji\LL hail! inexorable lordf 
 
 At whose destruction-breathing word,. 
 
 The mightiest empires fall! 
 Thy cruel, woe-delighted train, 
 The ministers of grief and pain, 
 
 A sullen welcome^ all! 
 
 With 
 
i7« 
 
 With stcrn-resolvM, despairing eye,, 
 
 I see each aimed dart; 
 For one has cut my dearest tyey 
 And quivers in my heart. 
 Then lowering, and pouring, 
 
 The storm no more I dread;^ 
 Tho' thick'ning and black'ning. 
 Round my devoted head. 
 
 n. 
 
 And thou grim pow^r, by life abhorr'd. 
 While life ?i pleasure can afford, 
 Oh! hear a wretch's pray'r! 
 No more I shrink appalFd, afraid^ 
 I court, I beg thy friendly aid, 
 
 To close this scene of care ! 
 When shall my soul, in silent peace. 
 
 Resign life's y^j'fef^ day; 
 My weary heart its throbbings cease^ 
 Gold mouldering in the clay; 
 No fear more, no tear more. 
 To stain my lifeless face, 
 Unclasped, and grasped 
 Within thy cold embrace 1 
 
 TO 
 
179 
 
 With Beattie's Poems j9r a New-year^s Gift, 
 Jan. I. 1787. 
 
 Jla GAIN the silent wheels of time 
 Their annual round have driven. 
 
 And you, tho' scarce in maiden prime. 
 Are so much nearer Heav'n. 
 
 No gifts have I from Indian coasts 
 
 The infant year to hail*, 
 I send you more than India boasts 
 
 In Edwin's simple tale. 
 
 Our sex with guile and faithless love 
 Is charg'd, perhaps too true; 
 
 But may, dear maid, each lover prove 
 An Edwin still to you. 
 
 EPISTLE 
 
i8o 
 
 EPISTLE 
 
 TO A 
 
 TOUNG FRIEND. 
 
 May 1 7 85* 
 
 1 Lang hae thought, my youthfu' friend, 
 
 A something to have sent you, 
 Tho' it should serve nae other end 
 
 Than just a kind memento; 
 But how the subject theme may gang. 
 
 Let time and chance determine j 
 Perhaps, it may turn out a sang; 
 
 Perhaps, turn out a sermon. 
 
 IL 
 
 Ye'U try the world soon, my lad, 
 
 And Andrew dear, believe me, 
 Ye'U find mankind an unco squad. 
 
 And muckle they may grieve ye: 
 For care and trouble set your thought, 
 
 Ev*n when your end's attained j * 
 
 And 
 
iSi 
 
 Axid a^ your views may come to ndtiglit,y 
 Where evVy nerve is strained. 
 
 III. 
 
 ril no say, men are villains a'; 
 
 The real, hardened wicked, 
 Wha hae nae check but human la^^. 
 
 Are to a few restricked: 
 But Och, mankind are unco weak^ 
 
 An' little to be trusted; 
 If self the wavering balance shake^ 
 
 It's rarely right adjusted! 
 
 IV. 
 
 Tet they wha fa' in fortune's strife. 
 
 Their fate we would na censure. 
 For still th' impcrtant end of life. 
 
 They equally may answer: 
 A man may hae an honest heart, * 
 
 Tho' poortith hourly stare him; 
 A man may tak a neebor's part. 
 
 Yet hae nae cash to spare him, 
 
 V. 
 
 Ay free, aff han', your story tell, 
 When wi' a bosom crony; 
 
 But 
 
l82 
 
 But still keep something to yoursel 
 
 Ye scarcely tell to ony. 
 Conceal yoursel as weel's ye can 
 
 Frae critical dissection-. 
 But keek thro' ev'ry other man, 
 
 Wi' sharpen'd sly inspection. 
 
 VL 
 
 The sacred lowe o' weel-placM love, 
 
 Luxuriantly indulge it: 
 But never tempt th' illicit rove, 
 
 Tho' naething should divulge it: 
 J wave the quantum cf the sin, 
 
 The hazard of concealing; 
 But Och! it hardens a' vi^ithin. 
 
 And petrifies the feeling ! ^ - 
 
 yiL 
 
 To catch dame fortune's golden smile 
 
 Assiduous wait upon her; 
 And gather gear by ev'ry wile 
 
 That's justify'd by honor: 
 Not for to hide it in a hedge, 
 
 Nor for a train-attendant; 
 But for the glorious privilege 
 
 Of being independent^ 
 
 VIII. 
 
i83 
 
 TIIL 
 
 The fear o' hell's a hangman's whlp^ 
 To haud the wretchan order; 
 
 But where ye feel your honor grip, 
 Let that ay be your border: 
 
 It's slightest touches, instant pause- 
 Debar a' side pretences. 
 
 And resolutely keep its laws, 
 Uncaring conse(|^ucnces. 
 
 The great Creator to revere,. 
 
 Must sure become the creature ^ 
 Biit still the preaching cant forbear. 
 
 And ev'n tlie rigid feature: 
 Yet ne'er with wits profane to range, 
 
 Be complaisance extende-d-, 
 An atheist-laugh's a poor exchange 
 
 For deitv oiFended! 
 
 X 
 
 When ranting round in pleasure's ring^ 
 
 Religion may be blinded 5 
 Or if she gie a random stingy 
 
 It may be little minded , 
 But when on life we're tempest-driv'n, . 
 
 A conscience but a canker — 
 
 0^2 A cor- 
 
1 84 
 
 A correspondence fix'd wi' Heav^rij,. 
 Is sure a noble anchor! 
 
 SI. 
 
 Adieu, dear, amiable youth! 
 
 Your heart can ne'er be wanting! 
 May prudence, fortitude, and truth, 
 
 Erect your brow undauntmg ! 
 In ploughman phrase, ? God send you spced^^ 
 
 Still daily to grow wiser; 
 And may ye better reck the rede^ 
 
 Than ever did th' adviser. 
 
 ON A 
 
 S C O T C H BAR D^ 
 
 GONE TO THM WEST INDIES. 
 
 J\ Ye wha live by sowps o' drink, 
 A' ye wha live by crambo-clink, 
 A' ye wha live and never think. 
 
 Come mourn wi'me! 
 Our bulk's gien us a' a jink, 
 
 An' owrc the sea. 
 
 Lament 
 
liament him a* ye rantin core, 
 Wha dearly like a random-splore, 
 Nae mair he'll join the merry roar. 
 
 In social key; 
 Fornowhe's taen anither shore, 
 
 An' owre the sea ! 
 
 The bonnie lasses weel may wiss him, 
 And in their dcTiX petitions place him: 
 The widows, wives, an' a' may bless him, 
 
 Wi' tearfu' e'e;, 
 For weel I wat they'll sairly miss him 
 
 That's owre the sea. 
 
 O fortune, they hae room to grumble! 
 Hadst thou taen afF some drowsy bumble, 
 Wha can do nought but fyke an' fumble, 
 
 'Twad been nae plea-. 
 But he was gleg as ony wumble. 
 
 That's owre the sea! 
 
 Auld, cantie Kyle may weepers w^ear, 
 An' stain them wi' the saut, saut tear; 
 Twill mak her poor auld heart, I fear. 
 
 In flinders flee: 
 He was her Laureat monie a year. 
 
 That's owre the seaf 
 
 He saw misfortune's cauld Nor-west 
 Lang mustering up a bitter blast; 
 
 0^3 AjUlet 
 
i86 
 
 A jillet brak his heart at last, 
 
 111 may she be ! 
 
 So, took a birth afore the mast. 
 
 An' owre the sea^ 
 
 To tremble under fortune's cummock,. 
 On scarce a bellyfu' o' drummock, 
 Wi' his proud, independent stomach, . 
 
 Could ill agree; 
 So, row't his hurdies in a hammochy 
 
 An' owre the sea^ 
 
 He ne'er was gien to great misguidlng,^ 
 Yet coin his pouches wad na bide inj 
 Wi' him it ne'er was under hiding; 
 
 He dealt it freet 
 The muse was a' that he took pride in,^ 
 
 That's owre the sea* 
 
 Jamaica, bodies^ use him weel. 
 An' hap him in a cozie biel : 
 Ye'U find him ay a dainty chlel. 
 
 And fou o' glee : 
 He wad na wrang'd the vera deil, 
 
 That's owre the sea» 
 
 Fareweel, my rhyme-composing iil/ieJ 
 Your native soil was right ill-willie; 
 But may ye flourish like a lily. 
 
 Now bonnilie ! 
 
 ni 
 
|i' 
 
 187 
 
 ril toast ye in my hindmost gillie! 
 
 Tho' Qwrc the seaf 
 
 TO A 
 
 H A G G I Sv 
 
 JC AIR fa' your honestj sonsie facey 
 Great chief tan o' the puddin-race! 
 Aboon them a' ye tak your place, 
 
 Painch, tripe, or thairm: 
 Weel are ye wordy of a grace 
 
 As iang's my arm* 
 
 The groaning trencher there ye fill> 
 Your hurdies like a distant hill. 
 Your pin wad help to mend a mill 
 
 In time o' need. 
 While thro' your pores the dews distil 
 
 Like amber bead* 
 
 His knife see rustic labour dight^ 
 An' cut you up wi' ready slight, 
 Trenching your gushing entrails bright 
 
 Like onie ditch 5 
 And then, O what a glorious sight, 
 
 Warm-reekin, rich ! 
 
 Then 
 
i88 
 
 Then horn for horn they stretch an* strive^ 
 Deil tak the hindmost, on they drive. 
 Till a* their weel-swall'd kytes belyve 
 
 Are bent like drums |> 
 Then auld guidman, maist like to rive^ 
 
 BHhanht hums. 
 
 Is there that o'er his French ragout^. 
 Or olio that wad staw a sow, 
 Qx fricassee wad mak her spew 
 
 Wi' perfect sconncr^ 
 Looks down wi' sneerin, scornfu' view 
 
 On sic a dinner! 
 
 Poor devil [ see him owre his trashy . 
 
 As feckless as a withered rash. 
 
 His spindle shank a guid whip-lash,:. 
 
 His nieve a nitj 
 Thro' bloody flood or field to dash, 
 
 O how unfit! 
 
 But mark the rustic, haggis-fedy 
 
 The trembling earth resounds his tread, 
 
 Glap in his walie nieve a blade. 
 
 He'll mak it whissle; 
 An' legs, an' arms, an' heads will sned. 
 
 Like taps o' thrissle. 
 
 Ye pow'rs wha mak mankind your care. 
 And dish them out their bill o' fare, 
 
 Auld 
 
189 
 
 Auld Scotland wants nae stinking ware 
 
 That jaups in luggies^. 
 
 But, if ye wish her gratefu' pray'r, 
 
 Gie her a haggis I 
 
 A 
 
 DEDreATION. 
 
 TO 
 
 Q###*# jj##*#### Esq. 
 
 iliXPECT na, Sir, in this narration^, 
 A fleechin, fleth'rin dedication. 
 To roose you up, an' ca' you guid> 
 An' sprung o' great an' noble bluid. 
 Because ye're sirnam'd like his grace y 
 Perhaps related to the race; 
 Then when I'm tir'd — and sae zxt ye. 
 Wi' mony a fulsome, sinfu' lie. 
 Set up a face, how I stop short. 
 For fear your modesty be hurt. 
 
 This may do — maun do, Sir, wi' them wha 
 Maun please the great folk for a wamefou; 
 For me! sae laigh I needna bow. 
 For, Lord be thankit, /^j////<?//^/^; 
 
 And 
 
And when r do wna yoke a naig, 
 Tken, Lord be thankit, / can beg; 
 Sae I shall say, an' that's nae flatt'rln. 
 It's just sic poet y an' sic patron. 
 
 The poet, someguid angei help him^ 
 Or else, I fear some ill ane skelp him I 
 He may do weel for a'' he's done yet^ 
 But only he's no just begun yett 
 
 The patron, (Sir, ye: maun forgie me^.. 
 r winna lie, come what will o' me)> 
 On ev'ry hand it will allow'd be, 
 He'sjust^ — nae better tHan he shoixldbe* 
 
 Ireadily and freely grant^; 
 He downa see a poor man want; 
 What's no his ain he winna tak it, 
 What aincehe says he winna break it; 
 Ought he can lend he'll no refus't, , 
 Till aft his guidness is abus'dj 
 And rascals whyles that do him wrangy 
 Ev'n thaty he does na mind it lang: 
 As master, landlord, husband, father^ ^ 
 He does na fail his part in either. 
 
 But then, nae thanks to him for a' that'^. 
 Nae godly symptom ye can ca' that; 
 It's naething but a milder feature, 
 Of our poor; sinfu', corrupt nature: 
 
 ' Ye'Itl 
 
191 
 
 Te'll get the best o* moraj works, 
 'Mang black Gentoos and pagan Turka, 
 Or hunters wild on Ponotaxi^ 
 Wha never heard ef orth-d-xy. 
 That he's the poor man's friend in need. 
 The gentleman in word and deed, 
 It's no thro' terror of d-mn-t— nj 
 It's just a carnal inclination. 
 
 Morality, thou deadly bane, 
 Thy tens o' thousands thou hast slain ! 
 Vain is his hope, whose stay and trust is 
 In moral mercy, truth, and justice ! 
 
 No— stretch a point to catch a plack; 
 Abuse a brother to his back; 
 Steal thro' a winnock frae a wh-re, 
 But point the rake that taks the ^jpcr,- 
 Be to the poor like onie whunstane, 
 And haud their noses to the grunstane: 
 Ply ev'ry art o' /^^^/ thieving^ 
 No matter, stick to sound believing. 
 
 Learn three-mile pray'rs, an' half-mile graces, 
 Wi' weel-spread looves, an' Jang, wry faces v 
 Grunt up a solemn, Icngthen'd groan, 
 And damn a' parties but your own; 
 I'll warrant then, ye're nae deceiver, 
 A steady, sturdy, staunch believer. 
 
 O ve 
 
192 
 
 D ye wha leave the springs of C'lv-n^ 
 Tor gumlie dubs of your ain delvin ! 
 Ye sons of heresy and error, 
 Ye'll some day squeel in quaking terror! 
 When vengeance draws the sword in wrath> 
 And in the fire throws the sheath; 
 When ruin, with his sweeping besomy 
 Just frets till heav'n commission gies him; 
 While o'er the harp pale mis'ry moans, 
 And strikes the ever-deep'ning tones. 
 Still louder shrieks, and heavier groaiis! 
 
 Your pardon. Sir, for this digression, 
 I maist forgat my dedication; 
 But when divinity comes cross me. 
 My readers still are sure to lose me. 
 
 So, Sir, you see 'twas nae daft vapour, 
 But I maturely thought it proper. 
 When a' my works I did review. 
 To dedicate them, Sir, to you: 
 Because (ye need na tak it ill) 
 I thought them something like yoursel. 
 
 Then patronize them wi' your favour^ 
 
 And your petitioner shall ever 
 
 I had amaist said, ever pray y 
 
 But that's a word I need na say: 
 
 For prayin I hae little skill o't ; 
 
 I'm baith dead-sweer, an' wretched ill o't ; 
 
 But 
 
^93 
 
 Bxit Fse repeat each poor man*s /r^;; V, 
 That kens or hears about you, Sir 
 
 « May ne'er misfortune's gowling bark, 
 « Howl thro' the dwelling o' the Clerk! 
 ^ May ne'er his gen'rous, honest heart, 
 
 * For that same gen'rous spirit smart! 
 ^ May K*'****'*'s far-honoured name 
 
 * Lang beef his hymeneal flame, 
 
 < Till H**^**^*'s, at least a dizen, 
 
 ^ Are frae their nuptial labours risen : 
 ^ Five bonnie lasses round their table, 
 
 < And seven braw fellows, stout an' able, 
 ^ To serve their king and country weel, 
 
 * By word, or pen, or pointed steel] 
 
 '^ May health and peace, with mutual rays, 
 ^ Shine on the ev'ning o' his days; 
 
 * Till his wee, curlie JohrC^ ier-oe, 
 
 ^ When ebbing life nae mair shall flow, 
 « The last, sad, mournful rites bestow.* 
 
 I wDl not wind a lang conclusion, 
 Wi' complimentary eflFusion : 
 5ut' whilst your wishes and endeavours, 
 Are blest with fortune's smiles and favours, 
 I am, dear^Sir, with zeal most fervent. 
 Your much indebted, humble servant. 
 
 But if (which powVs above prevent) 
 That iron-hearted carl, %vant^ 
 
 R Attended 
 
194 
 
 Attended in his grim advances, 
 
 By sad mistakes, and black mischances, 
 
 While hopes, and joys, and pleasures fly him, 
 
 Make you ag poor a dog as I am, 
 
 Your humble servant then no more; 
 
 For who would humbly serve the poor ! 
 
 But, by a poor man's hopes in heav'n! 
 
 While recollectioh's pov/r is giv'n. 
 
 If, in the vale of humble life. 
 
 The victim sad of fortune's strife, 
 
 I, thro' the tender gushing tear, 
 
 Should recognize my master dear^ 
 
 If friendless, low, we meet together, 
 
 Then, Sir, your hand,'*-~myy}^/VW and brother! 
 
 TO A 
 
 LOUSE, 
 
 On seeing ^one on a Ladfs Bonnet at Church* 
 
 Irl A! v/hare ye gaun, ye crowlin ferlie, 
 Your impudence protects you sairly; 
 I canna say but ye strunt .rarely, 
 
 Owre gauze and lace; 
 Tho' faith, I fear, ye dine but sparely 
 
 On sic a place. 
 
 Ye 
 
195 
 
 Ye ugly, creepin, bhstit wonner, 
 Detested, shunn'd by saunt an' sinner, 
 How dare ye set your fit upon her, 
 
 Sae fine a lady! 
 Gae somewhere else and seek your dinner, 
 
 On some poor body. 
 
 Swith, in some beggar'^ hafFet squattle; 
 There ye may creep, and sprawl, and sprattle 
 Wi' ither kindr'ed, jumping cattle, 
 
 In shoals and nations; 
 Whare horn nor bane ne'er dare unsettle 
 
 Your thick plantations. 
 
 Now haud you there^ ye're out o' si^ht. 
 Below the fa tt'rils^ snug an' tight; 
 Na, faith ye yet ! ye'il no be right 
 
 Till ye've got on it, 
 The vera tapmost, tow'ring height 
 
 O' Misses bonnet* 
 
 My sooth! right bauld ye set your nose out^ 
 As plump and gray as onie grozet; 
 
 for some rank, mercurial rozet. 
 
 Or fell, red smeddum, 
 I'd gie you sic a hearty doze o't, 
 
 Wad dress your droddum! 
 
 1 wad na been surpris'd to spy 
 You on an auld wife's flainen toy; 
 
 R 2 Or 
 
196 
 
 Or aiblins some bit duddie boy, 
 
 On's wyliecoat; 
 
 But Miss's fine Lunardil fie, 
 
 How daur ye do't!^ 
 
 O, Jennyy dinna toss your head. 
 An* set your beauties a' abread ! 
 Ye little ken what cursed speed 
 
 The blastie's makin! 
 Thae ivinks znd Jinger-ends, I dread, 
 
 Are notice takin! 
 
 O wad some pow^r the giftie gie us 
 
 Ti see ourselves as others see ml 
 
 It wad frae monie a blunder free us 
 
 And foolish notion: 
 What airs in dress an' gait wad lea'e us,- 
 
 And ev'n devotion ! 
 
 ADDRESS 
 
197 
 
 J D D R JS S S 
 
 TO 
 
 EDINBURGH. 
 
 I. 
 
 JcLDINA! Scotia's darling seat? 
 
 All hail thy palaces and tow'rs. 
 Where once beneath a monarches feet 
 
 Sat legislation's sov'reign powers! 
 From marking wildly-scatter'd flow'rs. 
 
 As on the banks of j^yr I stray'd. 
 And singing, lone, the ling'ring hours, 
 
 I shelter in thyhonor'd shade. 
 
 II. 
 
 Here wealth still swells the golden tide^ 
 
 As busy trade his labour plies; 
 There architecture's noble pride 
 
 Bids elegance and splendor rise; 
 Here justice, from her native skies, 
 
 High wields her balance and her rod; 
 
 R 3 There 
 
198 
 
 There learning, with his eagle eyes. 
 Seeks science in her coy abode. 
 
 III. 
 
 Thy sons, Edina^ social, kind, 
 
 With open arms the stranger hail; 
 Their views enlarg^i their lib'ral mind^ 
 
 Above the narrow, rural vale; 
 Attentive still to sorrow's wail. 
 
 Or modest merit's silent claim: 
 And never may their sources fail ! 
 
 And never envy blot their name \ 
 
 IV. 
 
 Thy daughters bright thy walks adorn. 
 
 Gay as the gilded summer sky. 
 Sweet as the dewy milk-white thorn. 
 
 Dear as the raptured thrill of joy! 
 Fair B strikes th' adoring eye, 
 
 Heav'n's beauties on my fancy shine ^ 
 I see the sire of love on high. 
 
 And own his work indeed divine! 
 
 There watching high the least alarms 
 Thy rough rude fortress gleams afar; 
 
 Like 
 
199 
 
 Like some bold vet'ran, gray in arms. 
 And mark'd with many a seamy scar : 
 
 The ponderous wall and massy bar, 
 Grim-rising o'er the rugged rockj 
 
 Have oft withstood assailing war, 
 And oft repeird the invader's shock. 
 
 VL 
 
 With awe-struck thought, and pitying tears 5 
 
 I view that noble, stately dome. 
 Where Scotia^s kings of other years, 
 
 Fam'd heroes, had their royal home: 
 Alas, how chang'd the times to come ! 
 
 Their royal name low in the dust! 
 Their hapless race wild-wand'ring roam ! 
 
 Tho' rigid law cries out, 'twas j ust ! 
 
 VII. 
 
 Wild beats my heart, to trace your steps. 
 
 Whose ancestors, in days of yore, 
 Thro' hostile ranks and ruin'd gaps 
 
 Old Scotia s bloody lion bore 5 
 Ev'n / who sing in rustic lore. 
 
 Haply, my Sires have left their shed. 
 And fac'd grim danger's loudest roar. 
 
 Bold-following where your fathers led ! 
 
 VIIL 
 
200 
 
 VIIL 
 
 Edinal Scotia s darling seat! 
 
 All hail thy palaces and tow'rs,, 
 Where once beneath a monarch's feet 
 
 Sat legislation's sov'reign pow'rs ! 
 From marking wildly-scatter'd flow'r^ 
 
 As on the banks of Ayr I stray'd, 
 And singing, lone, the ling'ring hours> 
 
 I shelter in thy honor'd shade. 
 
 EPISTLE 
 
 TO 
 
 AN OLD SCOTTISH BARD. 
 
 April I, I7?J- 
 
 w. 
 
 HILE briers an' woodbines budding grccn^ 
 An' paitricks scraichin loud at e'e% 
 An' morning pousie whidden seen. 
 
 Inspire my muse. 
 This freedom, in an tmknown frien', 
 I pray excuse. 
 
 On 
 
201 
 
 On Fasten-een we had a rockin, 
 
 To ca' the crack and weave our stocking 
 
 And there was muckle fun and jokin, 
 
 Ye need na doubt 5 
 At length we had a hearty yokin 
 
 At sang about » 
 
 There was ae sang^ amang the rest, 
 Aboon them a' it pleas'd me best. 
 That some kind husband had addrest 
 
 To some sweet wife: 
 It thirl'd the heart-strings thro' the breast^ 
 
 A' to the life. ~ 
 
 IVe scarce heard ought describ'd sae weel, 
 "What gen'rous, manly bosoms feel; 
 Thought I, « Can this be Pope, or Steele,. 
 
 * Or Beattie's wark!' 
 They tald me 'twas an odd kind chiel 
 
 About MuirkirL. 
 
 It pat me fidgin-fain to hear't. 
 Arid sae about him there I spier' t. 
 Then a' that ken't him round declared,. 
 
 He had ingine^ 
 That nane excell'd it, few cam near't, 
 
 It was sae fine. 
 
 That set him to a pint of ale. 
 An' either douce or merry tale. 
 
 Or 
 
202 
 
 Or rhymes an' sangs he'd made hinisel. 
 Or witty catches, 
 
 'Tween Inverness and Tiviotdale, 
 
 He had few matches^.^ 
 
 Then up I gat, an' swoor an aith, 
 
 Tho' I should pawn my pleugh and graith^ 
 
 Or die a cadger-pownie's death, 
 
 At some dyke back> 
 A pint an' -gill I'd gie them baith. 
 
 To hear your crack* 
 
 But, first an' foremost, I should tell, 
 Amaist as soon as I could spell^ 
 I to the crambo jingle fell, 
 
 Tho' rude an' rough. 
 Yet crooning to a body's sel. 
 
 Does weel eneugh. 
 
 I am n2it'poety in a sense, 
 
 But just a rhymer^ like, by chance. 
 
 An' hae to learning nae pretence, 
 
 Yet, what the matteti 
 Whene'er my muse does on me glance, 
 
 I jingle at her. 
 
 Your critlc-folk may cock their nose. 
 And say, ' How can you e'er propose, 
 ^ You wha ken hardly verse, hzt proscy 
 < To mak a sangP^ 
 
 But, 
 
203 
 
 But, by your leaves, my learned foes, 
 
 Ye're maybe wrang. 
 
 What's a' your jargon o* your schools. 
 Your Latin names for horns an' stools; 
 If honest Nature made yon faolsy 
 
 What sairs your grammars? 
 Ye'd better taen up spades and shools. 
 
 Or knappln-hammers. 
 
 A set o' dull, conceited hashes, 
 Confuse their brains in college classes! 
 Thev gang in stirks, and come out asses. 
 
 Plain truth to speak; 
 An' syne they think to climb Parnassus 
 
 By dint o' Greek! 
 
 Gie me ae spark o' Nature's fire. 
 
 That's a' the learning I desire; 
 
 Then though I drudge thro' dub an' mire, 
 
 At pleugh or cart. 
 My muse, though hamely in attire. 
 
 May touch the heart. 
 
 O for a spunk o' Allan\ glee. 
 
 Or Fergusso72\y the bauld and slee. 
 
 Or bright L*****Z''s, my friend to be. 
 
 If I can hit it ! 
 That would be lear eneugh for me, 
 
 If I could get it. 
 
 Now, 
 
Now, Sir, if ye hae friends enow, 
 , The* real friends, I b'lieve are few. 
 Yet, if your catalogue be fou, 
 
 Tse no insist. 
 But gif ye ^ant ae friend that's true, 
 Fm on your list. 
 
 I winna blaw about myself 
 
 As ill I like my fauts to tell; 
 
 But friends and folks that wish me well, 
 
 They sometimes roose me 5 
 Tho' I maun own, as monie still 
 
 As far abuse me. 
 
 There's ae iveefaut they whiles lay to me, 
 
 I like the lasses — Gude forgie me! 
 
 For monie a plack they wheedle frae me. 
 
 At dance or fair; 
 Maybe some itl^er thing they gie me 
 
 They weel can spare. 
 
 But Matichline race, or Maiichline fair, 
 I should be proud to meet you there; 
 We'se gie ae night's discharge to care. 
 
 If we forgather. 
 An' hae a swap o' rhymm^ware . 
 
 Wi' ane anither. 
 
 The four-gill chap, we'se gar him clatter. 
 An' kirsen him wi' reekin water; 
 
 Syne 
 
205 
 
 Syne we'll sit down, an*^ tak our whitter, 
 To chear our heart. 
 
 An' faith, we'se be acquainted better 
 Before we part^ 
 
 Awa ye selfish warly race, 
 
 Wha think that havins, sense, an' grace, 
 
 Ev'n love an' friendship, should give place 
 
 To catch'the-plachl 
 I dinna like to see your face. 
 
 Nor hear your crack* 
 
 But ye whom social pleasure charnis. 
 Whose hearts the tide of kindness warms, 
 "Who hold your heing on the terms, 
 
 * Each aid the others,' 
 Come to my bowl, come to my arms. 
 
 My friends, my brothers! 
 
 But, to conclude my lang epistle. 
 As my auld pen's worn to the grissle; 
 Twa lines frae you wad gar me fissle. 
 
 Who am, most fervent^ 
 While I can either sing, or whissle. 
 
 Your friend and servant. 
 
 ro 
 
206 
 
 TO THE SAME. 
 
 April 21, 1785. 
 
 VV HILE new-ca'a kye rout at the stake, 
 An' pownies reek in pleugh or braik. 
 This hour on eVnin's edge I take, 
 
 To own Tm debtor. 
 To honest-hearted, auld L*****k, 
 
 For his kind letter. 
 
 Forjesket sair, with weary legs, 
 
 Rattlln the corn out-owre the rigs, 
 Or dealing tliro' amang the naigs 
 
 Their ten hours bite, 
 ^ly awkart muse sair pleads and begs, 
 
 I wou'd na write. 
 
 Tbe tapedess ramfeezl'd liizzie, 
 She's saft at best, and something lazy. 
 Quo' she, < Ye ken, we've been sae busy, 
 
 ' This month an' mair, 
 « That trouth my head is grown right dizzi^ 
 
 < An' sometliing sair.' 
 
 Her 
 
207. 
 
 Her dowfF excuses pat me mad; 
 
 « Conscience,' says I, « ye thowless jad! 
 
 « ril write, an' that a hearty blaud, 
 
 « This vera night; 
 « So dinna ye affront your trade, 
 
 « But rhyme it right. 
 
 c Shall bauld L***^*k, the king o' hearts, 
 « Tho* mankind were a pack o' cartes, 
 < Roose you sae weel for your deserts, 
 
 < In terms sae friendly, 
 « Yet ye*ll neglect to shaw your parts, 
 
 < An' thank him kindly!' 
 
 Sae I gat paper in a blink, 
 
 An' down g^td stutTipie in the ink: 
 
 Quoth I, * Before I sleep a wink, 
 
 « I yow ril close it; 
 ^ An' if ye winna mak it clink, 
 
 « By Jove ril prose It!' 
 
 Sae I've begun to scrawl, but whether 
 In rhyme, or prose,. or baith thegither. 
 Or some hotch-potch that's rightly neither, 
 
 Let time mak proof; 
 But I shall scxibble down some blether 
 
 Just clean aff-loof. 
 
 My worthy friend, ne'er grudge an' carp, 
 Tho' fortune use you hard an sharp; 
 
 S 2 Come, 
 
Come, kittle up your rmorland harp 
 
 Wi' gleesome touch \ 
 
 Ne'er mind hov/ fortune nvaft an' ivarp- 
 She's but a b-tch. 
 
 She's gien me mome a jirt and fleg, 
 Sin I could striddle owre a rig; 
 But, by the I4— d, tho' I should beg 
 
 Wi'lyartpow, 
 I'll laugh, an' sing, an' shake my leg, 
 
 As lang's I dow! 
 
 Now comes the sax an' twentieth simmeri>, 
 I've seen the bud upo' the timmer, 
 Still persecuted' by the limmer 
 
 Frae year to year 5, 
 But yet, despite the kittle kimmer>, 
 
 i, Rob^ am here^ 
 
 Do ye envy the city Gent^ 
 
 Behint a kist to lie and sklent. 
 
 Or purse-proud, big wi' cent, percent. 
 
 And muckle wame,. 
 In some bit brugh to represent 
 
 A -S^/V/Vs name? 
 
 Or is't the paughty, feudal thane, 
 Wi' rufll'd sark an' glancing cane, 
 Wha thinks himsel nae sheep-shank bane. 
 But lordly stalks. 
 
 While 
 
209- 
 
 While caps and bonnets afF are taeni 
 As by he walks ? 
 
 < O Thou wha gies us each guld gift! 
 
 < Gie me o' wit an' sense a lift,. 
 
 < Then turn me, if Thou^ltzst^ adrift, 
 
 « Thro' Scotland wide 5 
 « Wi' cits nor lairds I wadna shift, 
 
 « In a' their pride!' 
 
 Were this 1^& charter of our state, 
 * On pain o' hell be rich an' great,' 
 Damnation then would be our fate. 
 
 Beyond remead; 
 But, thanks to Heav'n, that's no the gate 
 
 We learn our creed. 
 
 For thus the royal mandate ran. 
 When first the human race began, 
 
 < The social, friendly, honest man, 
 
 * Whate'er he be, 
 « 'Tis he fulfils great Nature's plan, 
 
 < An' none but hef 
 
 O mandate glorious and divine! 
 The followers^ of the ragged Nine, 
 Poor thoughtless devils! yet may shine, 
 
 In glorious light. 
 While sordid sons of Mammon's line 
 
 Are dark as night. 
 
 S 3 Tho' 
 
2ia 
 
 Tho' here they scrape, an' squeeze, an' growl^. 
 Their worthless nievefu' of a soul 
 May in oomt future carcase howl, 
 
 The forest's fright j 
 Or in some day-detesting owl 
 
 May shun the light.. 
 
 Then may i-*****>^ and ^**** arise, 
 To reach their native, kindred skies. 
 And sing their pleasures, hopes, an' joys, 
 
 In some mild sphere^;. 
 Still closer knit in friendship's ties 
 
 Each passing year! 
 
 TO 
 
 ^^ S####*N, Ochiltree. 
 
 1 GAT your letter, winsome Willie; 
 Wi' gratefu' heart I thank you brawliej 
 Tho' I maun say't, I wad be silly, 
 
 An' unco vain. 
 Should I believe, my coaxin billie. 
 
 Your flatteriu strain. 
 
 But 
 
211 
 
 But Fse believe ye kindly meant it^ 
 I sud be laith to think ye hinted 
 Ironic satire, sidelins sklented 
 
 On my poor musie; 
 Tho' in sic phraisin terms ye've penn'd it^ 
 
 I scarce excuse ye« 
 
 My senses wad be in a creel. 
 Should I but dare a hope to speel, 
 Wi' Allan, or wi' Gilhertjieldy 
 
 The braes o' fame 5; 
 Or Fergusson, the writer-chiel, 
 
 A deathless name«~ 
 
 {O Fergusson! thy glorious parts 
 
 111 suited law's dry, musty arts! 
 
 My curse upon your whunstane hearts, 
 
 Ye Enbrugh gentry f 
 The tythe o' what ye waste at cartes 
 
 Wad stow'd his pantry!}" 
 
 Yet when a tale comes 1' my head. 
 
 Or lasses gie my heart a screed. 
 
 As whiles they're like to be my dead, 
 
 (O sad disease!) 
 I kittle up my rwj-//V reed ; 
 
 It gies me ease* 
 
 Auld Co'ila now may fidge fu' fain, 
 yhe's. gotten poets o' her ain, 
 
 Chiel^ 
 
212 
 
 Chiels wha their chanters winna hain. 
 But tune their lays. 
 
 Till echoes a' resound again 
 
 Her weel-sung praise, 
 
 Nae poet thought her worth his while, 
 To set her name in measur'd style 5 
 She lay like some unkend-of isle 
 
 Beside Nenv Hollan\ 
 Or whare wild-meeting oceans boil 
 
 Besouth Magellan, 
 
 Ramsay an' famous Fergusson 
 Gied Forth an' Tay a lift aboon; 
 Yarrow an' Tnveedy to monie a tunc, 
 
 Owre Scotland rings. 
 While Irwiriy Lugar^ Ayr^ an' Doon^ 
 
 Naebody sings. 
 
 Th' lUissuSy Tibery ThameSy an' Seiner 
 Olide sweet in monie a tunefu'line! 
 But, Wtlliey set your fit to mine. 
 
 An' cock your crest. 
 We'll gar our streams an' burnies shine 
 
 Up wi' the best. 
 
 We'll sing auld Coila^ plains an' fells, 
 Her moors red-brown wi' heather-bells. 
 Her banks an' braes, her dens an' dells. 
 
 Where glorious Wallace 
 Aft 
 
213 
 
 Aft bure the gree, as story tells, 
 
 Frae Southron bilUes^ 
 
 At Wallace^ name what Scottish blood 
 But boils up in a spring-tide flood! 
 Oft have our fearless fathers strode 
 
 By Wallace* side^ 
 Still pressing onward, red-wat shod, 
 
 Or glorious dy'd* 
 
 O sweet are Coilas haughs an' woods, 
 When lintv/hites chant amang the budsj. 
 And jinkin hares, in amorous whids. 
 
 Their loves enjoy, 
 While thro' the braes the cushat croods 
 
 With wailfu' cry I: 
 
 Ev'n winter bleak has charms to me 
 When winds rave thro' the naked tree^ 
 Or frosts on hills of Ochiltree 
 
 Arc hoary gray^ 
 Or bhnding drifts wild-furious flee, 
 
 Darkening the day f i 
 
 O Nature! a' thy she\y an' forms, 
 To feeling, pensive hearts hae charms ! 
 Whether the summer kindly warms, 
 
 Wi' hfe an' light, 
 Or winter howls, in gusty storms. 
 
 The lang, dark night ! 
 
 The 
 
214 
 
 The muse, nae po€t ever fand her, 
 Till by himsel' he learn'd to wandeiv 
 Adown some trotting burn's meander. 
 
 An' no think lang^ 
 O sweet, to stray an' pensive ponder 
 
 A heart-felt sang! 
 
 The warly race may drudge an' drive, 
 Hog-shoutheri jundie, stretch an' strive, 
 Let me fair Nature^s face descrive. 
 
 And I, wi' pleasure. 
 Shall let the busy, grumbling hive 
 
 Bum owre their treasure.. 
 
 Fareweel, * my rhyme-composing brither!* 
 We've been owre lang unkenn'd to ither;^ 
 Now let us lay our heads thegither, 
 
 In love fraternal: 
 May Envy wallop in a tether, 
 
 Black fiend Infernal! 
 
 While Highlandmen hate tolls an' taxes! 
 While moorlan' herds like guid, fat biaxiesj, 
 While Terra Firma, on her axis, 
 
 Diurnal turns, 
 Count on a friend, in faith an' practice, 
 
 In Robert Burns. 
 
 POST* 
 
215 
 
 POSTSCRIPT. 
 
 My memory's no wortli a preen; 
 
 I had amaist forgotten clean. 
 
 Ye bade me write you what they mean 
 
 By this new-light *, 
 'Bout which our herds sae aft hae been 
 
 Maist like to fight. . 
 
 In days when mankind were but calla^s 
 
 At Grammar^ Logzcy an' sic talents. 
 
 They took nae pains their speech to balance, 
 
 Or rules to gie. 
 But spak their thoughts in plain, braid Lallans, 
 
 Like you or me. 
 
 In thae auld times, they thought the moon. 
 Just like a sark, or pair o' shoon. 
 Wore by degrees, till her last roon, 
 
 Gaed past the viewing, 
 An' shortly after she was done 
 
 They gat a new one. 
 
 This past for certain, undisputed; 
 It ne'er cam i' their heads to doubt it. 
 Till chiels gat up an' wad confute it. 
 An' ca'd it wrang; 
 
 An' 
 
 * See Note, p. 62. 
 
2l6 
 
 An* muckle din there was abouf it, 
 
 Baith loud an' lang. 
 
 Some herds^ weel learnM upo' the beuk. 
 Wad threap aXild fock the thing misteuk; 
 J'or 'twas the auld moon turn'd a neuk, 
 
 An' out o' sight. 
 An' backlins-comin, to the leuk, 
 
 She grew mair bright* 
 
 This was deny'd, It was afErm'dj - 
 
 The herds an' hissels were alarm'd : 
 
 The rev'rend gray-beards rav'd an' storm'd, 
 
 That beardless laddies 
 Should think they better were inform'd 
 
 Than their auld daddies* 
 
 Fraelessto maIr it gaed to sticks; 
 Frae words an' aiths to clours an' nicks; 
 An' monie a fallow gat his licks, 
 
 Wi' hearty crunt; 
 An' some, to learn them for their tricks, 
 
 Were hang'd an' brunt. 
 
 This game was play'd in monie lands. 
 An' aiild'light caddies bure sic hands. 
 That faith the youngsters took the sands 
 
 Wi' nimble shanks, 
 Till Lairds forbade, by strick commands, 
 
 Sic bluidy pranks. 
 
 But 
 
217 
 
 But nenv-light herds gat sic a cowe. 
 Folk thought them ruin'd stick-an-stowc. 
 Till now amaist on ev'ry knowe, 
 
 Ye'll find ane placed; 
 An' some, their new-light fair avow. 
 
 Just quite barefac'd. 
 
 Nae doubt the auld4tght jlocks are bleatin; 
 Their zealous herds are vex'd an' sweatin; 
 Mysel, Fve even seen them greetin 
 
 Wi' girniu spite. 
 To hear the moon sae sadly he'd on 
 
 By word an' write. 
 
 But shortly they w^lU cowe the louns! 
 Some auld^Ught herds in neebor towns 
 Are mind't, in things they ca halkms^ 
 
 To tak a flight. 
 An' 5tay ae month amang the moo^is^ 
 
 An' see them right. 
 
 <luid observation they will gie them; 
 
 An' when the auld moonh gaun to lea^e them. 
 
 The hindmost shaird, they'll fetch it wi' them, 
 
 Just i' their pouch. 
 An' when the new-light billies see them, 
 
 I think they'll crouch! 
 
 Sac, ye observe that a' this clatter 
 
 ^s naething but a * moonshine matter f 
 
 T But 
 
2l8 
 
 But tho' dull prose-folk Latin splatter 
 In logic tulzie, 
 
 I hope, we bardies ken some better 
 
 Than mind sic brulzie, 
 
 EPISTLE 
 
 TO 
 
 J^ I^ ***** * 
 
 hiclosing some Poems » 
 
 yj Rough, rude, ready-witted R**^***^ 
 The wale o* cocks for fun and drinkin! 
 There's monie godly folks are thinkin. 
 
 Your dreams * an' tricks 
 Will send you, Korah-like, a-sinkin, 
 
 Straught to auld Nick's. 
 
 Ye hae sae monie cracks an' cants. 
 And in your wicked, druken rants, 
 Ye mak a devil o' the saunts, 
 
 An' fill them fou; 
 
 And 
 
 ♦ A certain humarous dream of his was then making \ 
 noise in the country-side. 
 
219 
 
 And then their failings, flaws, an' wants. 
 Are a' seen thro',. 
 
 Hypocrisy, in mercy spare it! 
 That holy robe, O dinna tear it ! 
 Sparest for their sakes wha aften wear it, 
 
 The lads in black; 
 But your curst wit, when it comes near itj, 
 
 Rives't afF their back. 
 
 Think, wicked sinner, wha yeVe skaithing. 
 It's just the Blue-gown badge an' claithing 
 O' sauntsj tak that, yelea'e them naithing 
 
 To ken them by, 
 Frae ony unregenerate heathen 
 
 Like you or I. 
 
 I've sent you here some rhyming ware, 
 A' that I bargain'd for an' mair; 
 Sae, when ye hae an hour to spare, 
 
 I will expect, 
 Yon Sang \^ ye'll sen't wi' carmie care, 
 , And no neglect. 
 
 Tho' faith, sma' heart hae I to sing! 
 My muse dow scarcely spread her vring! 
 I've play'd mysel a bonnie spring. 
 
 An' danc'd my filJj 
 T 2 I'd 
 
 t A Bong he had promised the Author. 
 
220 
 
 Vd better gaen an' sair'd the Kingj 
 
 At Bunker's HilL 
 
 'Twas ae night lately in my fun, 
 
 I gac a rovin wi' the gun. 
 
 An' brought a Paitrick to the grun*, 
 
 A bonnie hen, 
 And, as the twilight was begun, 
 
 Thought nan * wad ken> 
 
 The poor, wee thing was Httle hurtj 
 
 I straikit it a wee for sport. 
 
 Ne'er thinkln they wad fash mt for't; 
 
 But, deil-ma-care} 
 Somebody tells the poachers-court 
 
 The hale affair. 
 
 Some auld, us'd hands had taen a note,. 
 That sic a hen had got a shot; 
 I was suspected for the plot; 
 
 I scorn'd to lie; 
 So gat the whissle o' my groat. 
 
 An' pay't thej^^^ 
 
 But by my gun, o' guns the wale, 
 An' by my pouther, an' my hail, 
 An' by my hen, an' by her tail, 
 
 I vow an' swear! 
 The game shall pay, o'er moor an' dale, 
 
 For this, neist year. 
 
 Aa 
 
221 
 
 Assoon's the clockin-time is by, 
 An' the wee pouts begun to cry, 
 h — d, I'se hae sportin by an' by. 
 
 For my gowd guineas' 
 Tho' I should herd the buckskin kye 
 
 For' t, in Virginia. 
 
 Trowth, they had muckle for to blame f 
 'Twas neither broken wing nor limb> 
 But twa-three draps about the wame 
 
 Scarce thro' the feathers ^ 
 An' baith a yellow George to claim. 
 
 An' thole their blethers! 
 
 It pits me ay as mad's a hare; 
 
 So I can rhyme nor write nae mair; 
 
 But penny wortkj again is fair. 
 
 When time's expedients 
 Meanwhile I am, respected Sir, 
 
 Your most obedient* 
 
 T 3 JOHN 
 
222 
 
 JOHN BARLEYCORN* 
 
 B A L L A P. 
 
 X HERE was three kings into the east^ 
 
 Three kings both great and high, 
 An' they hac sworn a solemn oath 
 John Barleycorn should die. 
 
 IL 
 
 Tliey took a plough and plowed him downy 
 
 Put clods upon his head. 
 And they hae sworn a solemn oath 
 
 John Barleycorn was dead. 
 
 III. 
 
 * This IS partly composed on the plan of an old song 
 known by the same name. 
 
223 
 IIL 
 
 But the chearful Spring came kindly on^ 
 
 And showers began to fall; 
 John Barleycorn got up again. 
 
 And sore surpris'd theni alL 
 
 IV. 
 
 The sultry suns of Summer came. 
 
 And he grew thick and strong. 
 His head weel arm'd wi' pointed spears. 
 
 That no one should him wrong. 
 
 V. 
 
 The sober Autumn enter'd mild. 
 
 When he grew wan and pale; 
 His bending joints and drooping head- 
 
 Show'd he began to fail. 
 
 VI. 
 
 His colour sicken'd more and more,. 
 
 He faded into age ; 
 And then his enemies began 
 
 To show their deadly rage. 
 
 VIL 
 
 TheyVe taen a weapon, long and ^rp, 
 And cut him by tlie knee-. 
 
 Then 
 
224 
 
 Then ty'd him fast upon a cart^ 
 Like a rogue for forgerie* 
 
 VIIL 
 
 They laid him down upon his back. 
 
 And cudgeird him full sore; 
 They hung him up before the storm^ 
 
 And turn'd him o'er and o'er. 
 
 IX 
 
 They filled up a darksome pit 
 
 With water to the brim. 
 They heaved in John Barleycorn^ 
 
 There let him sink or swim. 
 
 X. 
 
 They laid him out upon the floor. 
 
 To work him farther woe, 
 And still, as signs of life appear'd^ 
 
 They toss'd him to and fro. 
 
 XL 
 
 They wasted, o'er a scorching flame, 
 
 The marrow of his bones; 
 But a miller us'd him worst of all. 
 
 For he crush'd him between two stones. 
 
 XIL 
 
225 
 XIL 
 
 And they hae taen his; very heart's bleed,, 
 And drank it round and round j 
 
 And still the more and more they drank> 
 Their joy did more abound* 
 
 XIIL 
 
 John Barleycorn vt^s a hero boldj 
 
 Of noble enterprise, 
 For if you do but taste his bloody, 
 
 ^Twill make your courage rise* 
 
 XIV. 
 
 *Twill make a man forget his v/oe^; 
 
 'Twill heighten all his joy: 
 'Twill make the widow's heart to sing^ 
 
 Tho' the tear were in her eye. 
 
 Then let us toast John Barleycorn^ 
 
 Each man a glass in handj 
 And may his great posterity 
 
 Ne'er fail in old Scotland ! 
 
 A FRAG- 
 
226 
 
 A FRAGMENT.. 
 Tune,^ — Killicrankie^. 
 
 I. 
 
 \Sl HEN Guilford good our pilot stoodi 
 
 An' did our hclHm thraw, man;,, 
 Ae night, at tea, began a plea, 
 
 Within America^ man: 
 Then up they gat the maskin-pat,, 
 
 And in the sea did jaw, man ; 
 An' did nae less, in full Congress, 
 
 Than quite refuse our law, man. 
 
 IL 
 
 Then thro' the lakes Montgomery t^ikcSy 
 
 I wat he was na slaw, man; 
 Down Lowrie^s burn he took a turn. 
 
 And C-rl-Un did ca', man: 
 But yet, whatreck, he, at ^ebec^ 
 
 Montgomery like did fa', man, 
 Wi' sword in hand, before his band,, 
 
 Amang his en'mies a' man. 
 
 Pooi^' 
 
IIL 
 
 Poor Tammy G-ge within a cage 
 
 Was kept at Boston ha\ man ; 
 Till Willie H-'C took o'er the knowe 
 
 For Philadelphia^ man: 
 Wi' sv/ord an^ gun he thought a sin 
 
 Guid christian blood to draw, manj 
 But at New Torky wi' knife an' fork. 
 
 Sir Loin he hacked 5ma', man. 
 
 IV. 
 
 B-rg—ne gaed up, like spur an' whip, 
 
 Till Fraser brave did fa', man; 
 Then lost his way, ae misty day. 
 
 In Saratoga shaw, man. 
 C-rnW'll-s fought as lang's he dought, 
 
 An' did the Buckskins claw, man j 
 But Cl-nt-n^s glaive frae rust to save 
 
 He hung it to the wa', man, 
 
 V. 
 
 Then M-^nt-gue, an' Guilford too. 
 
 Began to fear a fa', man; 
 And S'ckv-lle doure, wha stood the stoure, 
 
 The German chief to thraw, man: 
 For Paddy B-rhe^ like ony Turk, 
 
 Nae mercy had at a', man; 
 
 An' 
 
228 
 
 An' Charlie F-t< threw by the boxj 
 An' lows'd his tinkler jaw, maoo 
 
 VI. 
 
 Then R-ck^ngh'^m took up the gamej 
 
 Till death did on him ca', man; 
 When Sh-lb-rne meek held up his cheek, 
 
 Conform to gospel law, man: 
 Saint Stephen's boys, wi' jarring noise. 
 
 They did his measures thraw, man: 
 For N-rih an' F-^k united stocks. 
 
 An' bore him to the wa% man. 
 
 VIL 
 
 Then clubs an' hearts were Charlieh cartes. 
 
 He swept the stakes awa', man. 
 Till the diamond's ace, of Indian race, 
 
 Led him a %^\x faux pasy man : 
 The Saxon lads, wi' loud placads. 
 
 On Chathani% Boy did ca', man: 
 An' Scotland drew her pipe an' blew, 
 
 < Up, Willie, waur them a', man!* 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Behind the throne then Gr-nv-llis gone, 
 A secret word or twa, man ; 
 
 While 
 
229 
 
 While slee -D-nd-s arous'd the class 
 Be-north the Roman wa', man : 
 
 An' Chatham's wraith, in heavenly graith, 
 (Inspired bardies saw, man) 
 
 Wi' kindling eyes cry'd, ^ Willie^ rise ! 
 « Would I hae fear'd them a', man!' 
 
 IX. 
 
 But, word an' blow, N^rthy F^ and Co. 
 
 GowfF'd TVillie like a ba', man. 
 Till Suthrm raise, and coost their claise 
 
 Behind him in a raw, man: 
 An' Caledo?i threw by the drone. 
 
 An' did her whittle draw, man: 
 An' swoor fu' rude, thro' dirt an' blood 
 
 To mak it guid in law, man. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Tune, — Corn rigs are bonnie^ 
 
 I. 
 
 I 
 
 T was upon a Lammas liJght, 
 When corn rigs are bonnie. 
 Beneath the moon's unclouded light, 
 I held awa to Annie : 
 
 U . The 
 
230 
 
 The time flew by, wi' -tentless heed, 
 Till 'tween the late and early, 
 
 Wi' sma' persuasion she agreed. 
 To see me thro' the barley. 
 
 II. 
 
 The sky was blue, the wind was still, 
 
 The moon was shining clearly; 
 I set her down, wi' right good will, 
 
 Amang the rigs o' barley : 
 I ken^t her heart was a' my ain ; 
 
 I lov'd her most sincerely; 
 I kiss'd her owre and owre again 
 
 Amang the rigs o' barley. 
 
 III. 
 
 I lock'd her in my fond embrace; 
 
 Her heart was beating rarely : 
 My blessings on that happy place, 
 
 Amang the rigs o' barley ! 
 But by the moon and stars so bright, 
 
 That shone that hour so clearly! 
 She ay shall bless that happy night, 
 
 Amang the rigs o' barley. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Ihae been blythe wi' comrades dear; 
 I hae been merry drinkin ; 
 
 I hae 
 
231 
 
 Ihae been been joyfu' gath'rin gear; 
 
 I hae been happy thinking: 
 But a' the pleasures e'er I saw, 
 
 Tho' three times doubrd fairly^ 
 That happy night was worth them a% 
 
 Amang the rigs o' barley. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Com rigs> an* barley rigs, 
 
 An* com rigs are bonnie : 
 FJl ne*er forget that happy night, 
 
 Amang the rigs wi' Annie. 
 
 — ''^^'^sz:^:^^ — 
 
 SOX G. 
 
 COMPOSED IN AUGUST. 
 
 Tune, — / had a horsey I had tiac mciu\ 
 
 L 
 
 JN OW westlin winds, and slaughtering guns 
 Bring Autumn's pleasant weather; 
 
 The moorcock springs, on whirring wings, 
 Amang the blooming heather: 
 
 U 2 Now 
 
Now waving grain, wide o'er the plaih> 
 
 Delights the weary farmer j 
 And the moon shines bright, when I rove at night 
 
 To muse upon my charmer. 
 
 IL 
 
 The partridge laves the fruitful fells 5 
 
 The plover loves the mountains; 
 The woodcock haunts the lonely delist , 
 
 The soaring hern the fountains: 
 Thro' lofty groves the cushat roves 
 
 The path of man to shun it; 
 The hazel bush o'erhangs the thrush^ 
 
 The spreading thorn the linnet, 
 
 III. 
 
 Thus ev'ry kind their pleasure find, 
 
 The savage and the tender; 
 Some social join, and leagues combine. 
 
 Some solitary wander: 
 Avaunt, away! the cruel sway. 
 
 Tyrannic man's dominion; 
 The sportsman's joy, the murd'ring cry. 
 
 The fluttering, gory pinion! 
 
 IV. 
 
 But Peggy dear, the ev'nlng's clear. 
 Thick flies the skimming swallow; 
 
The sky is blue, the fields in view> 
 All fading-green ^nd yellow: 
 
 Gome kt us stray our gladsome way. 
 And view the charms of Nature; 
 
 The rustling corn, the fruited thorn, 
 And ev'ry happy creature. 
 
 We'll gently walk, and sweetly talk. 
 
 Till the silent moon shine clearly v 
 ril grasp thy waist^ and fondly press't^ 
 
 Swear how I love thee dearly, 
 Not vernal showers to budding flowVs, 
 
 Not Autumn to the farmer. 
 So dear can be as thou to me. 
 
 My fair, my lovely charmer! 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Tune, — My Naniey O; 
 
 I. 
 
 B 
 
 EHiND yon hills where Stinchar flows, 
 'Mang moors an' mosses many, O, - 
 The wintry sun the day has clos'd, 
 And FU awa to Nanie, O, 
 
 II. 
 
^34 
 
 IL 
 
 The westlln wind blaws loud an' shillf 
 The night's baith mirk and rainy, O;. 
 
 But ril get my plaid an' out I'll steal. 
 An' owre the hill to Nanie, O. 
 
 HI. 
 
 My Nanie's charming, sweet an' young^^, 
 Nae artfu' wiles to win ye, ,0: 
 
 May ill befa' the flattering tongue 
 That wad beguile my Nanie, O. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Her face is fair, her heart is true. 
 As spotless as she's bonnie, Oj 
 
 The op'ning gowan, wat wi' dew, 
 Nae purer is than Nanie, CX 
 
 A country lad is my degree. 
 
 An' few there be that ken me, Oj 
 
 But what care I how few they be, 
 I'm welcome ay to Nanie, O. 
 
 VI. 
 
 My riches a's my penny-fee. 
 An' I maun guide it cannie, O; 
 
 But 
 
^3S 
 
 But warl's gear ne'er troubles me. 
 My thoughts- are a', my Nanie, O.. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Our auld guidman delights to view 
 His sheep an' kye thrive bonnie, O^ 
 
 But I'm as blythe that bauds his pleugh^ 
 An' has nae care but NanieyO* 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Come wecl come woe, I care na by, 
 I'll tak what Heav'n will sen' me, Oi 
 
 Nae ither care in life have I, 
 But live, an' love my Nanie, O. 
 
 GREEN GROW THE RASHES. 
 
 A FRAGMENT 
 
 — ^#4«— 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Green grow the rashes^ ; 
 
 Green grow the rashes y 0; 
 The snveetest hours that e*er I spent ^ 
 
 Are spe?it amang the lasses y G. 
 
 I. 
 
 1 HERE'S nought but care on ev'ry han'^ 
 In ev'ry hour that passes, O: 
 
 What 
 
236 
 
 What signifies the life o' man> 
 An' 'twere na for the lasses, O^ 
 
 Gr^en grow,.&c<;^ 
 
 m 
 
 The warly race may riches chase. 
 An* riches still may fly them, O5 
 
 An' tho' at lafet they catch them fast, 
 Their^^arts can ne'er enjoy them, Oi 
 
 ^ Green grow, &c.^ 
 
 III. 
 
 But gie me a canny hour at e^enf* 
 
 My arms about my dearie, O5 
 An' warly cares, an' warly men. 
 
 May a' gae tapsalteerie, O. 
 
 Green grow J Mq* 
 
 iv: 
 
 For you sac douse, ye sneer at tins, 
 Ye're nought but senseless asses, O: 
 
 The wisest man the warl' e'er saw, . 
 He dearly lov'd the lasses, G. 
 
 Green grow i &c. 
 
^37 
 
 V. 
 
 Auld Nature swears^ the lovely dears 
 Her noblest work she classes, O : 
 
 Her prentice han' she try'd on man, 
 An' then she made the lasses, O. 
 
 Green gj-oWj &;c*. 
 # # j^ #, #, #. # 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Tune^- — Jockefs Grey Breeksi" 
 
 I. 
 
 z\ GAIN rejoicing Nature sees 
 Her robe assume its vernal hues, 
 
 Her leafy locks wave in the breeze 
 All freshly steep'd in morning dews, 
 
 CHORUS*. 
 
 jind maun I still on Menie f doat^ 
 And bear the scorn that's in her e^e! 
 
 For it's jet, Jet blacky an^ it^s like a hawk, 
 An^ itwinnalet a body be I 
 
 II. 
 
 * This Chorus Is part of a Song composed by a gentleman 
 in Edinburgh, a particular friend of the Author's. 
 t Mg^Jeh the common abbreviation of M(ina?w:f. 
 
238 
 
 II- 
 
 In vaiD to me tlie cowslips blawj 
 In vain to me the vi'lets spring; 
 
 In vain to me, in glen or shaw, 
 The mavis and the lintwhite sing. 
 
 And mauTU I stilly &C* 
 
 III. 
 
 The merry ploughboy chears his team^. 
 
 Wi' joy the tentie seedsman stalfcs, 
 But life to me's a weary dream, 
 
 A dream of: ane that never waufcs* 
 
 And maun I stilly Uc*' 
 
 IV. 
 
 The wanton coot the water skims, 
 Amang the reeds the ducklings cry^ 
 
 The stately swan majestic swims, 
 And ev'ry thing is blest but I. 
 
 And maun I stilly &<:. 
 
 V. 
 
 The sheep-herd stceks hisfaulding slap. 
 And owre the moorlands whistles shill. 
 
 wir 
 
239 
 
 Wi^ wild, unequal, wand'ring step 
 I meet him on the dewy hill. 
 
 And maun I stilly &c.^ 
 
 VL 
 
 And when the lark, 'tween light and dark, 
 Blythe waukens by the daisy's side, 
 
 And mounts and sings on flittering wings, 
 A woe-worn ghaist I hameward glide. 
 And maun I stilly &c. 
 
 VIL 
 
 Come Winter, with thine angry howl, 
 And raging bend the naked tree; 
 
 Thy gloom will soothe my chearless soul. 
 When Nature all is sad like me! 
 
 And maun I still on Menie doaty 
 And bear the scorn thafs in her e^el 
 
 For ifs jety jet blacky ati! ifs like a hu*why 
 An^ it ivinna let a body be* 
 
 SONG. 
 
S O N G. 
 
 Tune, — Roslin Castle, 
 
 JL HE gloomy night is gathering fasl", 
 Loud roars the wild inconstant blast. 
 Yon murky cloud is foul with rain^ 
 I see it driving o'er the plain ; 
 The hunter now has left the moor. 
 The scatt'red coveys meet secure, 
 While here I wander, prest with care> 
 Along the lonely banks of Ayr. 
 
 IL 
 
 Tlie Autumn mourns her rip'ning corn 
 'By early Winter's ravage torn; 
 Across her placid, azure sky. 
 She sees the scowling tempest fly: 
 Chill runs my blood to hear it rave, 
 I think upon the stormy wave. 
 Where many a danger I must dare, 
 X'ar from the bonnie banks of Ayr^ 
 
.241 
 III. 
 
 ^^Tis not the surging billow's roar^ 
 'Tis not that fatal, deadly shore; 
 Tho' death in ev'ry shape appear. 
 The wretched have no more to fear: 
 But round my heart the ties are bound, 
 That heart transpierc'd with many a woundj 
 These bleed afresh, those ties I tear. 
 To leave the bonnie banks of Ajr. 
 
 ;FareweIl, old -C(?i/^'s hills and dales, 
 JHer heathy moors and winding vales; 
 The scenes where wretched fancy roves. 
 Pursuing past, unhappy loves! 
 I^'arewell, my friends! farewell, my foes! 
 My peace with these, my lave with those — 
 The bursting tears my heart declare, 
 J'arewell, the bonnie banks of J^rJ 
 
 X SONG. 
 
242 
 
 S O N G. 
 
 Tune^ — Gilderop 
 
 — »>®« — 
 
 £ ROM thee, Ellzay I must go, 
 
 And from my native shore: 
 The cruel fates between us throw 
 
 A boundless ocean's roar: 
 But boundless oceans, roaring wide, 
 ■^ Between my love and me. 
 They never, never can divide 
 My heart and soul from thee; 
 
 II. 
 
 I 
 
 JFarewell, farewell, Eliza dear. 
 
 The maid that I adore ! 
 A boding voice is in mine ear, 
 
 "We part to meet no more! 
 But the last throb that leaves my heart. 
 
 While death stands victor by, 
 That throb, Elizas is thy part. 
 
 And thine that latest sigh ! 
 
 Tlic 
 
^43 
 
 THE FAREWELL. 
 
 a THE BRETHREN OF ST. JAMES's LODGB^ 
 TARBOLTOK* 
 
 Tnti^i-'^Gc^dnigky and Joy be wP you :s\ 
 
 L 
 
 xjLDIEU! a heart-warm, fond adieu [ 
 
 Dear brothers of the mystic tye! 
 Ye favour'd, ye enlightened few. 
 
 Companions of my social joy! 
 Tho' I to foreign lands must hie. 
 
 Pursuing fortune's slidd'ry ba', 
 With melting heart, and brimful eye, 
 
 ril mind you stili, tho' far awa\ 
 
 ir. 
 
 Oft have I met your social band, 
 
 And spent the chearful, festive night; 
 
 Oft, honour'd with supreme command, 
 Presided o'er the sons of light; 
 
 X- 2 And' 
 
244 
 
 And by that hierog^phic bright. 
 
 Which none but craftsmen tvtx saw!- 
 
 Strong mem'ry on my heart shall write- 
 Those happy scenes when far awa\ . 
 
 IlL 
 
 May freedom^ harmony, and love, , 
 
 Unite you in the grand design^ 
 Beneath th' omniscient eye above, 
 
 The glorious Architect divine ! 
 That you may keep tVi unerring liney, ^ 
 
 Still rising by the plmnmefs laiv^ 
 Till order bright completely shine, 
 
 Shall be my pray'r when far awa'. , 
 
 IV. 
 
 And, you farewell ! whose merits claim^ 
 
 JxisilyyXhzt highest badge to wear! 
 Heav'n bless your honoured, noble name^ 
 
 To masonry and Scotia dear ! 
 A last request permit me here. 
 
 When yearly ye assemble a'. 
 One rounds I ask it with a teary 
 
 To him, the bard that* s far anva\ 
 
 SONG; 
 
S O N G- 
 
 Tune, — Prepare y my dear hrethren^ to the tavern^ 
 lefsflyy &c. 
 
 
 L 
 
 JN O churchman am I for to rail and to wrlte^ 
 No statesman nor soldier to plot or to fight. 
 No sly man of business contriving a snare, 
 Eor a big-belly'd bottle's the whole of my care. 
 
 II. 
 
 The peer I don't envy, I give him his bow; 
 
 I scorn not the peasant, tho' ever so low; 
 
 But a club of good fellows, like those that are herCj^ 
 
 And a bottle Hke this, are my glory and care. 
 
 III. 
 
 Here passes the squire on his brother — hio horse; 
 There centum per centum, the cit with his purse? 
 But see you the crown how it waves in the air^ 
 There a big-belly'd bottle still eases my care. 
 
 X3 ^^ 
 
246 
 
 IV. 
 
 The wife of my bosom, alas! she did dlej4 
 For sweet consolation to church I did fly; 
 I found that old Solomon proved it fair, 
 That a big-belly'd bottle's a cure for all care, 
 
 V. 
 
 I once was persuaded a venture to make; 
 A letter informed me that all v/as to wreck; 
 But the pursy old landlord just. waddled up stair^ 
 With a glorious bottle that ended my cares, 
 
 VI. 
 
 * Lifers cares they are comforts^^— a maxim laicl 
 
 down 
 By the bard, w^hat d'ye call him, that wore the black 
 
 gown; 
 And faith I agree with th' old prig to a hair; ' 
 For a big-belly'd bottle's a, heav'n of care, 
 
 A Stanza added In a Mason Lodge. 
 
 Then fill up a bumper and make it o'erflow, 
 And honours masonic prepare for to throw; 
 May evv*iry true brother of th' compass and square 
 V '^ave a bi'^-belly'd bottle v/hen harassed with care* 
 
 /^' WRITTEN 
 
 * Young's Nigln Thoughts. 
 
H7 
 
 WRITTEN IN 
 ERIARS-G arse: HERMIT AGE^ 
 
 ON N I r H'S ID £.. 
 
 X HOU whom chance may hither lead^. 
 Be thou clad in russet weed, 
 Be^hou deckt in silken stole, 
 Grave these counsels on thy souL. 
 
 Life is but a day at most^ 
 Sprung from night, in darkness lost |; 
 Hope not sunshine ev'ry hour, 
 Fear not clouds will always lour. 
 
 As youth and love, with sprightly dance^ . 
 Beneath thy morning star advance. 
 Pleasure with her siren air 
 May delude the thoughtless pair; 
 liCt prudence bless enjoyment's cup, 
 Then rapturMsip^ and sip it up. 
 
 A& 
 
248 
 
 As thy day grows warm and high^ 
 Life's. meridian flaming nigh, 
 Dost thou spurn the humble vale? 
 Life's proud summits wouldst thou scale? 
 Check thy climbing step, elate, 
 Evils lurk in felon wait : 
 Dangers, eagle-pinioned, bold. 
 Soar around each cliffy hold. 
 While chearful peace, with linnet song^.. 
 Chants the lowly dells among. 
 
 As the shades of ev'ning close, 
 Beck'ning thee to long repose; 
 As life itself becomes disease. 
 Seek the chimney-nook of ease. 
 There ruminate with^ sober thought, 
 On all thou'st seen, and heard, and wrought J 
 And teach the sportive younkers round. 
 Laws of experience, sage and sound. 
 Say, man's true, genuine estimate, 
 The grand criterion of his fate. 
 Is not, art thou high or low ? 
 Did thy fortune ebb or flow? 
 Did many talents gild thy span? 
 Ot frugal Nature grudge thee one? 
 Tell them, and press it on their mind^ 
 As thou thyself must shortly find. 
 The smile or frown of awful Heav'n, 
 To virtus or to vice is giv'n. 
 
 Say 
 
249 
 
 Say, to be just, and kind, and wise^. 
 There solid self-enjoyment lies; 
 That foolish, selfish, faithless ways> 
 Lead to be wretched, vile, and base^ 
 
 Thus resign'd and quiet, creep 
 To the bed of lasting sleep-, 
 Sleep, whence thou shalt ne'er awake, 
 Night, where dawn shall never break. 
 Till future life, future no more, 
 To light and joy the good restore, 
 To light and joy unknown before. 
 
 Stranger, go!. H^av'n be thy guide!; 
 Quod the Beadsman of Nith-side. 
 
 O D E, 
 
 SACRED TO THE MEMORY OR- 
 
 Mrs, ' ■ ' OF . . 
 
 JLIwELLER ih yon dungeon dark,, 
 Hangman of creation, mark! 
 Who in widow weeds appears, 
 leaden with unhonoured years, 
 Noosing with care a bursting purse. 
 Baited with many a deadly curse? 
 
 View 
 
2sa 
 
 STROPHE. 
 
 View the wither M beldam's face— - 
 Gan thy keen inspection trace 
 Aught of humanity's sweet melting grace? 
 Note that eye, 'tis rheum o'erflows, 
 Pity's flood there never rose. 
 See those hands, ne'er stretch'd to save, 
 
 Hands that took but never gave. 
 
 Keeper of Mammon's iron chest, 
 
 Lo, there she goes, unpitied and unblest 
 
 She goes, but not to realms of everlasting rest F 
 
 ANTISTROPHE. 
 
 Plunderer of armies, lift thine eyes ! 
 (A while forbear, ye tort'ring fiends), 
 Seest thou whose step, unwilhng, hither bends?" 
 No fallen angel, hurl'd from upper skies ^ 
 'Tis thy trusty quondam matey 
 Doom'd to share thy fiery fate. 
 She, tardy, hell-ward plies. 
 
 EPODE. 
 
 And are they of no more avail. 
 Ten thousand glitt'ring pounds a-year? 
 In other worlds can Mammon fail. 
 Omnipotent as he is here ? 
 
 While 
 
O, .bitter mock'ry oi th^ pompous lier^ 
 While down the wretched vital part is driv'n! 
 The cave-lodg'd beggar, with a conscience ckar, 
 .Expires in rags, unknown, and goes to Heav'n. 
 
 ELEGY 
 
 ON 
 
 Capt. M H 
 
 M Gentleman who held the Patent for his Honours 
 immediately from Almighty God! 
 
 But now Ms radiant course is run, 
 ■For Matthew^ s course iv^s bright: 
 
 His soul was like the glorious furiy 
 A Jfiatchless Heavnly light! 
 
 o 
 
 Death ! thou tyrant fell and bloody ? 
 The meikle devil wi' a woodie 
 Haurl thee hame to his black smiddle. 
 
 O'er harcheon hides. 
 And like stock-fish come o'er his studdie 
 
 Wi' thy auld sides ! 
 
 He's gane, he's gane ! he's frae us torn. 
 The ae best fellow e'er was born! 
 
 Thee, 
 
2S2 
 
 Thee, Matthew, Nature's seF shall mourn 
 By wood and wild, 
 
 Where, haply. Pity strays forlorn, 
 Frae man exiFd. 
 
 Ye hills, near neebors o' the starns, 
 That proudly cock your cresting cairns ! 
 ITe clifFs, the haunts of sailing yearns. 
 
 Where Echo slumbers! 
 Come join, ye Nature's sturdiest bairns, 
 
 My^ wailing numbers ! 
 
 Mourn, ilka grove the cushat kens ! 
 
 Ye hazly shaws and briery dens! 
 
 Ye burnies, wimplin down your glens, 
 
 Wi' toddlin din. 
 Or foaming, Strang, wi' hasty stens., 
 
 Frae lin to lin. 
 
 Mourn, little harebells o'er the lee; 
 Ye stately foxgloves fair to see; 
 Ye woodbines hanging bonnilie, 
 
 In scented bow'rs^ 
 Ye roses on your thorny tree, 
 
 The first o' flowVs* 
 
 At dawn, when evVy grassy blade 
 Droops with a diamond at his head, 
 At ev'n, when beans their fragrance shed, 
 r th' rustling gale. 
 
 Ye 
 
253 
 
 Te maukins whiddin thro* the gladcj 
 
 Come join my wail. 
 
 Mourn, ye wee songsters o' the wood; 
 Ye grouss that crap the heather bud; 
 Ye curlews calling thro' a clud; 
 
 Ye whistling plover; 
 And mourn, ye whirring paitrick brood; 
 
 He's gane for ever! 
 
 Moutn, sooty coots, and speckled teals; 
 Ye fisher herons, watching eels; 
 Ye duck and drake, wi' airy wheels 
 
 Circling the lake; 
 Ye bitterns, till the quagmire reels, 
 
 Rair for his sake* 
 
 Mourn, clam'ring craiks at close o' day, 
 ^Mang fields o' flow'ring clover gay; 
 And when ye wing your annual way 
 
 Frae our cauld shore. 
 Tell thae far warlds, wha lies in clay. 
 
 Wham we deplore. 
 
 Ye houlets, frae your ivy bow'f. 
 In some auld tree, or eldritch tow'r, 
 "What time the moon, wi' silent glow'r. 
 
 Sets up her horn, 
 Wa^il thro' the dreary midnight hour 
 
 Till waukrife morn! 
 
 Y O, rivers. 
 
254 
 
 O, rivers, forests, hills and plainsi 
 Oft have ye heard my canty strains: 
 But now, vi^hat else for me remains 
 
 But tales of woe? 
 And frae my een the drapping rains 
 
 Maun ever flow. 
 
 'Mourn, Spring, thou darling of the yeart 
 Ilk cowslip cup shall kep a tear: 
 Thou, Simmer, while each corny spear 
 
 Shoots up its head. 
 Thy gay^ green, flow'ry tresses shear, 
 
 For him that's dead! 
 
 Thou, Autumn, wi' thy yellow hair.. 
 In grief thy sallow mantle tear ! 
 Thou, Winter, hurling thro' the air 
 
 The roaring blast, 
 Wide o'e^r the naked world declare 
 
 The worth we've lost! 
 
 Mourn him, thou ^Sun, great source of light! 
 Mourn, Empress of the silent Night! 
 And you, ye twinkling starnies bright, 
 
 My Matthew mourn ! 
 For through your orbs he's taen his flight, 
 
 Ne'er to return. 
 
 Q^ j.I)f.*#####*! the man! the brother! 
 And art thou gone, and gone for ever! 
 
 And 
 
^55 
 
 And hast thou crest that unknown river, 
 Life's dreary bound! 
 
 Like thee, where shall I find another, 
 The world around! 
 
 Go to your sculptui'd tombs, y^ great, 
 In a' the tinsel trash o' state ! 
 But by thy honest turf I'll wait, 
 
 Thou man of worth! 
 And weep the ae best fellow's fate 
 
 E'er lay in earth* 
 
 THE EPITAPH. 
 
 Utop, passenger 1 my story's brief. 
 
 And truth I shall relate, man*, 
 Itell nae common taleo' grief, 
 
 For Matthew was a great man* 
 
 If thou uncommon merit hast. 
 
 Yet spurn*d at Fortune's doer, man; 
 
 A look of pity hither cast. 
 For Matthew was a poor man. 
 
 If thou a noble sodger art, 
 
 That passest by this grave, man, 
 There moulders here a gallant heart-, 
 
 For Matthew was a brave man. 
 
 Y z If 
 
256 
 
 If thou on men, their works and ways. 
 Canst throw uncommon light, man; 
 
 Here lies wha weel had won thy praise^ 
 For Matthew was a bright man. 
 
 If thou at friendship's sacred ca' 
 Wad life itself resign, man; 
 
 Thy sympathetic tear maun fa', 
 For Matthew was a kind mau. 
 
 If thou art staunch without a stain,. 
 Like the unchanging blue, man; 
 
 This was a kinsman o' thy ain, 
 For Matthew was a true m.an. 
 
 If thou hast wit, and fun and fire^ 
 And ne'er gude wine did fear, man;. 
 
 This was thy billie, dam, and sire, 
 For Matthew was a queer man. 
 
 If ony whiggisJi whingin sot, 
 
 To blame poor Matthew dare, manj. 
 
 May dool and sorrow be his lot. 
 For Matthew was a rare man. 
 
 LAMENT 
 
HI 
 
 L A M E N T O F 
 MART ^UEEN QF SCOTS 
 
 ON THE 
 
 APPROACH OF SPRING. 
 
 .iN OW Nature hangs her mantle green 
 
 On every blooming tree, 
 And spreads her sheets o' daisies white 
 
 Out o'er the grassy lea: 
 Now Phoebus chears the crystal streams^ 
 
 And glads the azure skies; 
 But nought can glad the weary wight 
 
 That fast in durance lies. 
 
 Now laverocks wake the merry morni 
 
 Aloft on dewy wing; 
 The merle, in Ins noontide bowV, 
 
 Makes woodland echoes ring; 
 The mavis mild, wi' many a note, 
 
 Sings drowsy day to rest: 
 In love and freedom they rejoice, - 
 
 Wi' care nor thrall opprest. 
 
258 
 
 Now blooms the lily by the bank^ 
 
 The primrose down the brae; 
 The hawthorn's budding in the glen. 
 
 And milk-whitejs the slae:. 
 The meanest hind infair Scotlaiid- 
 
 May rove their sweets amang; 
 But I, the queen of a' Scotland^ 
 Maun lie in prison Strang* 
 
 I was the queen o' bon,nie France 
 
 Where happy I hae been; 
 Fu' lightly rase I in the morn, 
 
 As blytlie lay down at e'en: 
 And I'm the scv'reign of.Scotland^ ^ 
 
 And mony a traitor there; 
 Yet here I lie in foreign bands^ 
 
 And never-ending care. 
 
 But as for thee, thou false v/oman. 
 
 My sister and my fae. 
 Grim vengeance yet shall whet a sword 
 
 That thro' thy sou} shallgae: 
 The weeping blood in woman's breast 
 
 Was never known to thee; 
 Nor th' balm that draps on wounds of woe 
 
 Frae woman's pitying e'e. 
 
 My son ! my son ! may kinder stars 
 Upon thy fortune shine; 
 
 And 
 
259^ 
 
 And^may those pleasures gild thy reign, . 
 
 That ne'er wad blink, on mine ! 
 God keep thee frae thy mother's faes. 
 
 Or turn their hearts to thee: 
 And where thou meet'st thy mother's friend^. 
 
 Remember him for me ! 
 
 O! soon, tonie, may summer--6uns 
 
 Nae mair light up the morn ! 
 Nae mair, to me, the autumn winds 
 
 Wave o'er the yellow corn ! 
 And in the narrow house o' death 
 
 Let winter round me ravej 
 And the next flow'rs that deck the jspring^ , 
 
 Bloom on my peacefur grave, 
 
 Ta 
 
 -Late crlppl'd of an arm, and now a leg, . 
 About to beg a pass for leave to beg; 
 Dull, listless, teas'd, dejected, and deprest, 
 (Nature is adverse to a cripple's rest); 
 Will generous G***** list to his poet's wail? 
 (It soothes poor misery, hearkning to her tale). 
 And hear him curse the light he. first survey'd. 
 And doubly curse the luckless rhyming trade. 
 
 Thou, 
 
26o 
 
 Thou, Nature, partial Nature, 1 arraign^ 
 Gf thy caprice maternal I complain. 
 The lion and the bull thy care have found,. 
 One shakes the forests, and one spurns the ground,^ 
 Thou giv^st the ass his hide, the snail his shell, 
 Th' envenom'd wasp, victorious, guards his cell. — 
 Thy minions, kings defend, controul, devour, 
 In all th' omnipotence of rule and power. — 
 Foxes and statesmen, subtile wiles ensure; 
 The cit and polecat stink, and are secure. 
 Toads with their poison, doctors with their drug, 
 'J he priest and hedgehog in their robes, are snug. 
 Ev'n silly woman has her warlike arts. 
 Her tongue and eyes, her dreaded spear and darts^ 
 
 But Oh! thou bitter step-mother and hard, 
 
 To thy poor, fenceless, naked child the bard f 
 
 A thing unteachable in world's skill. 
 
 And half an idiot too, more helpless still. 
 
 No heels to bear* Kim from the op'ning dun; 
 
 No claws to dig, his hated sight to shun; 
 
 No horns, but those by luckless Hymen worn^i 
 
 And those, alas ! not Amalth^ea's" horn : 
 
 No nerves olfact'ry, Mammon's trusty cur, . 
 
 Clad in rich dulness' comfortable fur. 
 
 In naked feeling, and in aching pride. 
 
 He bears th' unbroken blast from ev'ry side : 
 
 Vampyre booksellers drain him to the heart. 
 
 And scorpion critics cureless venom dart,. 
 
 Critics 
 
26l 
 
 Critics — appaird, I venture on the name. 
 Those cut-throat bandits in the paths of fame; 
 Bloody dissectors, worse than ten Monroes, 
 He hacks to teach, they mangle to expose. 
 
 His heart by causeless wanton malice wrung. 
 By blockheads daring into madness stung; 
 His well-won bays^ than life itself more dear. 
 By miscreants torn, who ne'er one sprig must wear^ 
 Foil'd, bleeding, tortur'd, in th' unequal strife, 
 The hapless poet flounders on thro' life. 
 Till fled each hope that once his bosom fiPdj 
 And fled each muse that glorious once inspired. 
 Low-sunk in squalid, unprotected age, "j 
 
 Dead, even resentment, for his injur'd page, 
 He heeds or feels no more the ruthless critic's 
 rage ! 
 
 So, by some hedge, the gen'rous steed deceas'd. 
 For half-starv'd snarling curs a dainty feast; 
 By toil and famine worn to skin and bone. 
 Lies, senseless of each tugging bitch's son. 
 
 O Dulness! portion of the truly blest! 
 Calm shelter'd haven of eternal rest! 
 Thy sons ne'er madden in the fierce extremes 
 Of fortune's polar frost, or torrid beams, 
 If mantling high she fills the golden cup. 
 With sober selfish ease they sip it up: 
 
 Conscious 
 
262 
 
 Conscious the bounteous meed they well deserve^ 
 They only wonder " some folks" do not starve. 
 The grave sage hern thus easy picks his frog, 
 And thinks the mallard a sad worthless dog. 
 When disappointment snaps the clue of hope. 
 And thro' disastrous night they darkling grope, 
 With deaf endurance sluggishly they bear, 
 And just conclude that " fools are fortune's cafe.'' 
 So, heavy, passive to the tempest's shocks. 
 Strong on the sign-post stands the stupid ox. 
 
 Not so the idle muses' mad-cap train, 
 Not such the workings of their moon-struck brain f: 
 In equanimity they never dwell, 
 But turns in soaring heav'n, or vaulted hell. 
 
 I dread thee, fate, relentless and severe. 
 With all a poet's, husband's, father's fear! 
 Already one strong.hold of hope is lost, 
 Glencairn^ the truly noble, lies in dust; - 
 
 (Fled, like the sun echps'd as noon appears, 
 And left us darkling in a world of tears:) 
 O! hear my ardent, grateful, selfish pray'r! 
 F*****, my other stay, long bless and spare! 
 Thro' a long life his hopes and wishes crown; 
 And bright in cloudless skies his sun go down! 
 May bliss domestic smooth his private path*, 
 Give energy to life; and soothe his latest breath, 
 With many a filial tear circling the bed of death! 
 
 LAMENT 
 
263 
 
 LAMENT 
 
 FOR 
 
 JAME8, EARL OF GLENCJIRN, 
 
 X HE wind blew hollow frae the hills 
 
 By fits the sun's departing beam 
 LookM on the fading yellow woods 
 
 That wav'd o'er Lugar's winding stream : 
 Beneath a craigy steep, a bard. 
 
 Laden with years and meikle pain. 
 In loud lament bewail'd his lord, 
 
 Whom death had all untimely taen. 
 
 He lean'd him to an ancient aik, 
 
 Whose trunk was mould'ring down with years; 
 His locks were bleached white with time, 
 
 His hoary cheek was wet wi' tears; 
 And as he touch'd his trembling harp. 
 
 And as he tun'd his doleful sang. 
 The winds, lamenting thro' their caves, 
 
 To echo bore the notes alang. 
 
 ^ <f Ye 
 
264 
 
 €« "Yc scattered birds that faintly sing, 
 
 «« The reliques of the vernal quire! 
 ^^ Te woods that shed on a' the winds 
 
 <« The honours of the aged year! 
 ^« A few short months, and glad and gay, 
 
 <« Again ye'll charm the ear and e'ej 
 «^ But nocht in all revolving time 
 
 " Can gladness bring again to me. 
 
 <^ I am a hending aged tree, 
 
 " That long has stood the wind and rain; 
 «^ But now has come a cruel blast, \ 
 
 ^^ And my last hold of earth is gane; 
 <^^ Nae leaf o' mine shall greet the springs 
 
 *^ Nae similier sun exalt my bloom; 
 " But I maun lie before the storm, 
 
 <^ And ithers plant them in my room. 
 
 ^^ I've stcn sae mony changefu' years, 
 
 <« On earth I am a stranger grown; 
 <* I wander intlvj ways of men, 
 
 <« Alike unknowing and unknown: 
 " Unheard, unpitied, unreliev'd, 
 
 ^^ I bear alane my lade o' care, 
 <« For silent, low, on beds of dust, 
 
 " Lie a' that would my sorrows share> 
 
 «^ And last, (the sum of a' my griefs !) 
 *' My jioble master lies in clay; 
 
 f^ The 
 
 I 
 
265 
 
 ^^ The flow'r amang our barons bold, 
 ^^ His country's pride, his country's stay^ 
 
 ^^ In v/eary being now I pine, 
 ^^ For a' the life of life is dead, 
 
 <^ And hope has left my aged ken, 
 «^ On forward wing for ever fled. 
 
 <« Awake thy last sad voice, my harp ! 
 
 <« The voice of v/oe and wild despair^ 
 « Awake, resound thy latest lay, 
 
 ^' Then sleep in silence evermair! 
 ^* And thou, my last, best, only friend, 
 
 ^< That fillest an untimety tomb, 
 ^^ Accept this tribute from the Bard 
 
 ^^ Thou brought from Fortune's mirkest gIoom» 
 
 <^ In poverty^s low barren vale, 
 
 ^< Thick mista, obsc4ire, involved me round; 
 << Though oft I turn'd the wistful eye, 
 
 « Nae ray of fame was to be found: 
 ^' Thou found'st me, like the morning sun 
 
 « That melts the fogs in limpid air, 
 <^ The friendless Bard and rustic song, 
 
 <* Became alike thy fostering care, 
 
 <* O! why has worth so short a date? 
 
 " While villains ripen grey with time! 
 *« Must thou, the noble, gen'rous, great, 
 
 *^ Fall in bold manhood's hardy prime! 
 
 Z « Why 
 
266 
 
 ^^ Why did I live to see that day ? 
 
 «^ A day to me so full of woe ? 
 ^^ O ! had I met the mortal shaft 
 
 <^ Which laid my benefactor low ! 
 
 «^ The bridegroom may forget the bride 
 
 <^ Was made his wedded wife yestreen-, 
 ^^ The monarch may forget the crown 
 
 " That on his head an hour has been; 
 «< The mother may forget the child 
 
 « That smiles sae sweetly on her knee-, 
 <^ But ni remember thee, Glencairn, 
 
 " An' a' that thou hast done for meT' 
 
 LINE S, 
 
 SENT TO 
 
 Sir John Whiteford of Whitmfojrd^ Bart. 
 
 iviih the foregoing Poem. 
 
 — ^^4^— 
 
 X HOU, who thy honour as thy God rever'st, 
 Who, save thy mind^s reproach, nought earthly fear'st^^ 
 To thee this votive off'ring I impart. 
 The tearful tribute of a broken heart. 
 
 The 
 
167 
 
 The Friend th(^n valued'st, I the Patron lov'({; 
 His worth, his honour, all the world approved. 
 We'll mourn till we too go as he has gone, 
 And tread the dreary path to that dark world ini- 
 known* 
 
 TAM O' SHANTER: 
 
 TALE, 
 
 Of Brou'nyis and of Bogillis full is this Buke, 
 
 GAWIN DCaCLAS. 
 
 W HEN chapman billies leave the streef, 
 And drouthy neebors, neebor§ meet, 
 As market-days are wearing late. 
 An' folk begin to tak the gate; 
 While we sit bousing at the nappy, 
 An' getting fou and unco happy, 
 We think na on the lang Scots miles. 
 The mosses, waters, slaps, and styles, 
 That lie between us and our hame, 
 Whare sits our sulky sullen dame, 
 Gathering her brows like gathering storm, 
 Nursing her wrath to keep it warm. 
 
 Z 2 This 
 
268- 
 
 This truth fand honest Tarn ^ Shantery 
 As he frae Ayr ae night did canter, 
 (Aula Ayr wham ne'er a town surpasses,. 
 For honest men and bonny lasses.) 
 
 O Tarn! hadst thou bivt been sae wise>, 
 A% ta'en thy ain wife iST^/^'^s advice ! 
 She tauld thee weel thou was a skellum, 
 A blethe'fing, blustering, drunken blcUum;; 
 That frae November till October, 
 Ae market-day thou was nae sober; 
 That ilka melder, wi' the miller 
 Thou sat as lang as thou had siller j. 
 That ev'ry naig was ca'd a shoe on,. 
 The smith and thee gat roaring fou onj 
 That at the L — d's house, ev'n on Sunday^. 
 Thou drank wi' Kirkton Jean till Monday. 
 She prophesy'd, that, late or soon. 
 Thou would be found deep drowned in Doons 
 Or catch'd wi' warlocks in the mirk. 
 By Alloivays a uld haunted kirk. 
 
 Ah, gentle dames! itgars me greet, 
 To think how mony counsels sweet, 
 riow mony Icngthen'd sage advices. 
 The husband frae the v/ife despises! 
 
 But to our tale: Ae market night, 
 Tarn had got planted unco right ; 
 
269 
 
 Fast by an Ingle, bleezing finely, 
 Wi' reaming swats, that drank divinely; 
 And at his elbow, Souter Johnny^ 
 His ancient, trusry, drouthy crony; 
 Tarn lo'ed him like ^ vera brither; 
 They had been fou for weeks thegither. 
 The night drave on wi' sangs an' clatter; 
 And ay the ale was growing better: 
 The landlady and TCam grew gracious, 
 WT favours, secret, sweet, and precious: 
 The Souter tauld his queerest stories; 
 The landlord's laugh was ready chorus: 
 The storm without might rair and rustle, 
 %am did na mind the storm a whistle. 
 
 Care, mad to see a man sae happy, 
 E'en drown'd himself amang the nappy; 
 As bees flee hame wi' lades o' treasure. 
 The minutes wing'd their way wi' pleasure: 
 Kings may be blest, but Tarn was glorious. 
 O'er a' the ills o' life victorious ! 
 
 But pleasures are like popples spread, 
 You seize the flow'r, its bloom is shed; 
 Or like the snow falls In the river, 
 
 A moment white then melts for ever; 
 
 Or like the borealis race. 
 That flit ere you can point their place; 
 Or like the rainbow's lovely form 
 Evanishing amid the storm. — 
 
 Z 3 Nae 
 
270 
 
 Nae man can tether time or tide; 
 
 The hour approaches Tarn maun ride; 
 
 That hour, o' night's black arch the key-stane> 
 
 That dreary hour he mounts his^ beast in ;,^ 
 
 And sic a night he tacks the road in,. 
 
 As ne'er poor sinner was abroad in. 
 
 The wind blew as^twad hlawn its last;- 
 The rattling show'rs rose on the blast; 
 The speedy gleams the darkness swallow'd;: 
 Loud, deep, and lang, the thunder bellowMr. 
 That night, a.child might understand, 
 The deil had business on his liand. 
 
 Weel mounted on his grey mare, Meg^ 
 A better never lifted leg, 
 7'am skelpit on thro' dub and mire> 
 Despising wind, and rain, and fire; 
 Whiles holding fast his gude blue bonnet; 
 Whiles crooning o'er some auld Scots sonnet| , 
 Whiles glow'ring round wi' prudent cares. 
 Lest bogles catch him unawares: . 
 Kirk'AUoivay was drawing nigh, 
 Whare ghaists^and houlets nightly cry. — 
 
 By this time he was cross the ford, 
 Whare in the snaw the chapman smoor'd;. 
 And past the birks and meikle stane, 
 Whare drunken C/jjr/z> brak's neck-bane; 
 
 And 
 
271 
 
 Aiid thro' the whins, and by the cairn, 
 Whare hunters fand the murder'd bairn; , 
 And near the thorn, aboon the well, 
 Vv^hare Mungo^s mither. hang'd hersel. — - 
 Before him Doon pours all his floods. 
 The doubling storm rears thro' the woods y; 
 The lightnings flash from pole to pole; 
 Near and more near the. thunders roll: 
 When, glimmermgthro' the groaning trees, 
 Kirk^Alloway seem'd in a bleeze;.. 
 Thro' ilka bore the beams were glancing; :. 
 And loud resounded mirth and dancing, 
 
 Inspiring holS, yohn Ear ley corn! 
 What dangers thou canst make us scorn i' 
 Wi' tippeny, we fear nae evil;. 
 Wi'usquabae we'll face the devil! — 
 The swats sae ream'din Taminije's no AAlc^, 
 Fair play, he car'd ca deils a boddle. 
 But il/^^g/V stood right sair astonish'd, , 
 Till, by the heel and hand admonish'd^ , 
 She vent ur'd forward on the liglu: 
 And, vow! Tarn saw aH unco sight! 
 Warlocks and witches in a dance; 
 Nae cotillion brent new frae Francey 
 But hornpipes, jigs, strathspeys, and reels^,^. 
 Put life and mettle in their heels. 
 A winnock-bunker in the east. 
 There sat auld Nick^ in shape 0' beast ^ 
 
 A towzic> 
 
272 
 
 A towzie tyke, black, grim, and large. 
 To gie them music was his charge; 
 He screwed the pipes, and gart them skirlj 
 Till roof and rafters a' did dirL — 
 Coffins stood round, like open presses, * 
 That shawM the dead in their last dresses; 
 And by some devilish cantrip slight. 
 Each in its cauld hand held a light.—* 
 By which, heroic Tarn was able 
 To note upon the haly table, 
 A murderer's banes in gibbet aims; 
 Twa span-lang, wee, unchristen'd bairns > 
 A thief, new-cuttcd frae a rape, 
 Wi' his last gasp his gab did gape; 
 Five tomahawks, wi' blude red-rusted; 
 Five scymitars, wi' murder crusted; 
 A garter, which a babe had strangled, 
 A knife, a father's throat had mangled. 
 Whom his ain son o' Hfe bereft, 
 The grey hairs yet stack to the heft: 
 Wi' mair o' horrible and awefu', 
 Which ev'n to name wad be unlawfu\ 
 
 As Tammie glowrM, amaz'd, and curious, 
 The mirth and fun grew fast and furious: 
 The piper loud and louder blew: 
 The dancers quick and quicker flew; 
 They reel'd, they set, they cross'd, they cleekit, 
 Till ilka carlin swat and reekit, 
 
 And 
 
And coosther duddies to the warlc,. 
 And linket at it in her sarkJ 
 
 Now ^am^ O Tarn! had thae been queans^ 
 A' plump and strapping in their teens, 
 Theb sarks, instead o* creeshie flannen, 
 Been snaw-wJiit€ seventeen hunder Hnnen! 
 Thir breeks o' mine, my only pair, 
 That ance were plush, o' gude blue hair, 
 1 wad hae gi'en them off my hurdies, 
 For ae blink o^ the bonnie burdies! 
 
 But withered beldams, auid and droll^ 
 Rigwoodie hags wad spean a foal, 
 Lowping an' flinging on a crummock^ 
 I wonder didna turn thy stomach. 
 
 But Tarn kend what was what fu' brawlicj, 
 There was ae winsome wench and wawlie, 
 That night enlisted in the core, 
 (Lang after kend on Garrick sliore; 
 For mony a beast to dead she shot, 
 Andperish'd mony a bonnie boatj 
 And shook baith meikle corn and htzx^ 
 And kept the country-side in fear); 
 Her cutty sark, o' Paisley harn. 
 That while a lassie she had worn, 
 In longitude tho' sorely scanty, 
 It was her best, and she was vauntie. — 
 
 Ah! 
 
Ah! little kend thy reverend grannie. 
 That sark she coft for her wee Nannie, 
 Wi' twa pund Scots, ('twas a' her riches). 
 Wad ever grac'd a dance of witches ! 
 
 But here my muse her wing maun cour^ 
 Sic flights are far beyond her pow'r; 
 To sing how Nannie lap and flang, 
 (A souple jade she was and Strang), 
 And how Tarn stood, like ane bewitch'd. 
 And thought his very een enrichM; 
 Even Satan glowr'd, and fidg'd fu' fain. 
 And Jiotch'd and blew wi' might and main: 
 Till first ae caper, syne anither, 
 ^am tint his reason a' thegither, 
 And roars out, ^^ Weel done, cutty-sarkP* 
 And in an instant all was dark; 
 And scarcely had he Maggie rallied. 
 When out the hellish legion sallied* 
 
 As bees bizz out wi' angry fyke, 
 When plundering herds assail their bykc; 
 As open pussie's mortal foes, 
 When, pop! she starts before their nose-, 
 As eager runs the market-crowd, 
 When « Catch the thief!" resounds aloud j 
 So Maggie runs, the witches follow, 
 Wi' mony an eldritch skreech and hollow. 
 
 Ah, Tarn! Ah, Tarn! thou'll get thy fairiu! 
 In hell tlxey'U roast thee like a hcrrin! In 
 
275 
 
 In vain thy Kate awaits thy comini 
 Kate soon will be a woefu' woman ! 
 Now, do thy speedy utmost, Meg, 
 And win the key-stane * of the brig; 
 There at them thou thy tail may toss, 
 A running stream they dare na cross. 
 But ere the key~stane she could make. 
 The fient a tail she had to shake ! 
 For Nannie, far before the rest, 
 Hard upon noble Maggie prest. 
 And flew at Tain wi' furious ettle; 
 
 But little wist she Maggie's mettle 
 
 Ae spring brought oiF her master hale. 
 But left behind her ain grey tail: 
 The carlin claught her by the rump. 
 And left poor Maggie scarce a stump. 
 
 Now, wha this tale o' truth shall read. 
 Ilk man and mother's son, take heed; 
 Whene'er to drink you are inclin'd. 
 Or cutty-sarks run in your mind. 
 Think, ye may buy the joys o'er dear. 
 Remember Tarn o' Shanter'^ mare* 
 
 ON 
 
 * It is a well known fact that witches, or any evil spirits, 
 have no power to follow a poor wight any farther than the 
 middle of the next running stream. — It may be proper Hke- 
 wise to mention to the benighted traveller, that when he falls 
 in with hgles^ whatever danger may be in his going forward, 
 there is much more hazard iii turning back. 
 
27S 
 
 t5N SEEING A WOUNDED HARE 
 
 riMP BY ME, WHICi^I A FELLOW HAD JUST SHOT AT, 
 
 Inhuman man! curse on thy barbVous art. 
 And blasted be the murder-aiming eye; 
 May never pity soothe thee with a sigh. 
 
 Nor ever pleasure glad thy cruel heart! 
 
 Go live, poor wanderer of the wood and field, 
 The bitter little that of lifejemains: 
 No more the thickening brakes and verdant plains 
 
 To thee shall home, or food, or pastime yields 
 
 Seek, mangled wretch, some place of wonted rest. 
 No more of rest, but now thy dying bed ! 
 The sheltering rushes whistling o'er thy head|l 
 
 The cold earth with thy bloody bosom prest. A 
 
 Oft as by winding Nith, I, musing, wait 
 
 The sober eve, or hail the chearful dawn, 
 ril miss thee sporting o'er the dewy lawn. 
 
 And curse the ruffian's aim, and mourn thy hapless fate. 
 
 ADDRESS 
 
277 
 
 JD DRESS 
 
 TO THE > 
 
 SHADE OF THOMSON, 
 
 'On crowning his BuST^ at Ednam^ Roxburghshire^ 
 with BaT^. 
 
 W HILE virgin Spring, by Eden's flood? 
 
 Unfolds her tender mantle green, 
 Ox pranks the sod in frolic mood, 
 
 Or tunes Eohan strains between: 
 
 While Summer with a matron grace 
 Retreats to Dryburgh's cooling shade. 
 
 Yet oft, delighted, stops to trace 
 The progress of the spiky blade: 
 
 While Autamn, benefactor kind. 
 
 By Tweed erects his aged head. 
 And sees, with self- approving mind. 
 
 Each creature on his bounty fed; 
 
 A a ' Wlilc 
 
While maniac Winter rages o'er 
 
 The hills whence classic Yarrow flows, 
 
 Rousing the turbid torrent's roar, 
 
 Or sweeping, wild, a waste of snows: 
 
 So long, sweet Poet of the Year, 
 
 Shall bloom tha:t wreath thou well hast won; 
 While Scotia, with exulting tear, 
 
 Proclaims that Thotmon was her son. 
 
 EPITAPHS. 
 
 ON A CELEBRATED RULING ELDER. 
 
 JLIERE Sowter ****' in Death does sleeps 
 
 To H-11, if he's gane thither, 
 Satan, gie him thy gear to keep. 
 
 He'll haud it weel thegither. 
 
 ON A NOISY POLEMIC. 
 
 Below thir stanes lies Jamie's banes: 
 
 O Death, it's my opinion. 
 Thou ne'er took such a bleth'rin b-tch 
 
 Into thy dark dominion ! 
 
279 
 
 ON WEE JOHNNIE. 
 
 Hicjacet wee JoHnnie. 
 
 Whoe'er thou art, O reader, know. 
 That Death has murder'd Johnnie l 
 
 An' here his body lies f u' low 
 
 for saul he ne'er had ony. 
 
 FOR THE AUTHOR'S FATHER. 
 
 O YE whose cheek the tear of pity stains, 
 Draw near with pious reverence, and attend { 
 
 Here lie the loving husband's dear remains. 
 The tender father, and die gen'rous friend. 
 
 The pitying heart that felt for human woe; 
 
 The dauntless heart that fear'd no human pride; 
 The friend of man, to vice alone a foe; 
 
 <^ For ev'nhis failings lean'd to virtue's side*.'^ 
 
 FOR R. A. EsQ^ 
 
 Know thou, O stranger to the fame 
 Of this much lov'd, much honoured name! 
 (For none that knew him need be told) 
 Aw^armer heart death ne'er made cold. 
 
 A a 2 FOR. 
 
 * aoldfmith. 
 
28o 
 
 FOR G. H, Esq. 
 
 The poor man \reeps— here G-^-^-^n sleeps^ 
 Whom canting wretches blamM : 
 
 But with such as he^ wherever he be. 
 May I be sav'd or ^— — d*/ 
 
 A BARD'S EPITAPm 
 
 IS there a whim-inspired fool, 
 
 Owre fast for thought, owre hot for rule^ 
 
 Owre blate to seek, owre proud to snool. 
 
 Let him draw near;. 
 And owre this grassy heap sing dool. 
 
 And drap a tear. 
 
 Is there a bard of rustic song, 
 
 "Who, noteless, steals the crowds among. 
 
 That weekly this area throng, 
 
 O, pass not by! 
 But, with a frater-feeling strong, 
 
 Here, heave a sigh. 
 
 I« there a man, whose judgment clear. 
 Can others teach the course to steer, 
 
 Yet 
 
28 I 
 
 Yet runs, himself, life's mad career. 
 
 Wild as the wave; 
 
 Here pause — and, through the starting tear, 
 Survey this grave. 
 
 The poor inhabitant below 
 
 Was quick to learn and wise to know. 
 
 And keenly felt the friendly glow. 
 
 And softer Jlame; 
 But thoughtless follies laid him low. 
 
 And stain'd his name! 
 
 Reader, attend' — whether thy soul 
 Soars fancy's flights beyond the pole. 
 Or darkling grubs this earthly hole. 
 In low pursuit; 
 Know, prudent, cautious, self-controuly 
 . Is wisdom's root,. 
 
 'A a 3 OK 
 
282 
 
 ON THE 
 
 LATE CAPTAIN G ROSENS 
 
 PEREGRINATIONS THRO' SCOTLAND, 
 Colkcting the Antiquities of that Kingdom* 
 
 JH.E AR, Land o' Cakes, and brither Scot$, 
 Frae Maidenkirk to Johnny Groats;— 
 If there's a hole in a' your coats, 
 
 I rede you tent it: 
 A chield's amang you, taking notes. 
 
 And, faith! he'll prent ih 
 
 If in your bounds ye chance to light 
 Upon a fine, fat, fodgel wight, 
 O' stature short, but genius bright. 
 
 That's he, mark weel— 
 And wov/! he has an unco slight 
 
 O' cauk and keel. 
 
 By some auld, houlet-haunted, biggin*, 
 Or kirk deserted by its riggin, 
 
 * Vide his Antiquities of Scotland. 
 
 It^& 
 
283 
 
 It's ten ta ane yeMl find him snug in 
 
 Some eldritch part, 
 
 Wi' deils, they say, L — d safe's! colleaguin 
 At some black art. — 
 
 Dk ghaist that haunts auld ha^ or chamer^ 
 
 Ye gipsy-gang that deal in glamor. 
 
 And you deep-read in hellV black grammar^. 
 
 Warlocks and witches^ 
 Ye'U quake at his conjuring hammer. 
 
 Ye midnight b cse 
 
 It's tauld he was a sodger bred. 
 And ane wad rather fa'n than fledj 
 But now he's quat the spurtle-blade. 
 
 And dog-skin wallet^ 
 And taen the Antiquarian trade ^ 
 
 I think they call it,. 
 
 He has a fouth o' auld nick-nackets: 
 Rusty aim caps and jinglin jackets*, 
 Wad baud the Lothians three in tackets, 
 
 A towmont gude; 
 And parritch-pats, and auld saut-backets. 
 
 Before the flood. 
 
 Of Eve's first fire he has a cinder; 
 
 Auld Tubal-Cain's fire shool and fender; 
 
 That 
 * Vide bis Treatise on Ancient Armour and Weapons. 
 
284 
 
 That which distinguished the gender^ 
 O' Balaam's ass; 
 
 A broom-stick o' the witch of Endor, 
 
 Weel shod wi' brass^. 
 
 Fotbye, he'll shape you afF fu' gleg^ 
 
 The cut of Adam's philibeg; 
 
 The knife that nicket Abel's craig . 
 
 He'll prove you fully. 
 It was a faulding jocteleg, 
 
 Or lang kail-guUie. — 
 
 But wad ye see him in his glee, , 
 For meikle glee and fun has he, 
 Then set him down, and twa or three 
 
 Gude fellows wi' him;. 
 AnAporty port! shine thou.a wee, 
 
 And then ye'll see himH 
 
 Now, by the pow'rs o' verse and prose ! ' 
 Thou art a dainty chield, O Grose! — 
 Whae'er o' thee shall ill suppose, 
 
 They sair misca' thee; 
 I'd take the rascal by the nose, 
 
 Wad say, Shame fa^ thee. 
 
 TO 
 
2.8s 
 
 TO MISS C********% 
 
 A VERY YOUNG LADY. 
 
 Wrktm mniiank leaf ^ a Book^ preientidJo Ur 
 by the Author. 
 
 JuEAUTEOus rose-bud, young and gay^. 
 Blooming on thy early May, 
 Never may'st thou, lovely flow^r^ 
 Chilly shrink in sleety show'r! 
 Never Boreas' hoary path. 
 Never Eurus' poisonous breath. 
 Never baleful stellar lights. 
 Taint thee with untimely blights! 
 Never, never reptile thief 
 Riot on thy virgin leaf! 
 Nor even Sol too fiercely view 
 Thy bosom blushing still with dew ! 
 
 Mayst thou long, sweet crimson gem. 
 Richly deck thy native stem; 
 Till some ev'ning, sober, calm, 
 Dropping dews^ and breathing balm, 
 
 While 
 
286 
 
 While all around the woodland rings>. 
 And ev'ry bird thy requiem. sings; 
 Thou, amid the dirgeful sound. 
 Shed thy dying, honours round, , 
 And resign to parent earth 
 The loveliest form she e'er gav€ birth*.. 
 
 S O N G; 
 
 jTxNNA, thy charms my bosom fire^ 
 And waste my soul with care; 
 
 But ah! how bootless to admire, 
 When fated to despair! 
 
 Yet in thy presence, lovely fair. 
 
 To hope may be forgiv'n; 
 For sure 'twere impious to despair 
 
 So much in sight of Heav'n* 
 
 On 
 
287 
 
 ©/; readingy in a NEWSPAPER^ the DEATH cf 
 
 J M^L 'y Es^ Brother to a TOUNG 
 
 LADTy a particular FrIEND of the AUTHOR' S. 
 
 k) AD thy tale, thou idle page. 
 
 And rueful thy alarms : 
 Death tears the brother of her love 
 
 From Isabella's arms. 
 
 Sweetly deckt with pearly dew 
 
 The morning rose may blow; 
 But cold successive noontide blasts 
 
 May lay its beauties low. 
 
 Fair on Isabella's morn 
 
 The sun propitious smil'd; 
 But, long ere noon, succeeding clouds 
 
 Succeeding hopes beguil'd. 
 
 Fate oft tears the bosom chords 
 
 That Nature finest strung: 
 So Isabella's heart was form'd. 
 
 And so that heart was wrung. 
 
 Dread 
 
288 
 
 Dread Omnipotence, alone. 
 Can heal the wound He gave ; 
 
 Can point the brimful grief- worn eyes 
 To scenes beyond the grave. 
 
 Virtue's blossoms there shall blow, 
 And fear no withering blast; 
 
 There Isabella's spotless worth 
 ^hall happy be at last. 
 
 THE 
 
 HUMBLE PETITION 
 
 t)F 
 
 S R U A R WATER' 
 
 TO THE 
 
 NOBLE DUKE OF ATHOLE. 
 
 Ml 
 
 LY Lord, I know your noble ear 
 Woe ne'er assails in vain; 
 Embolden'd thus, I beg you'll hear 
 Your humble slave complain, 
 
 How 
 • Bruar Falls, in Athole, are exceedingly pidurcsquc and 
 beautiful; but their effe(5l' is much impaired by the want of 
 trees and shrubs. 
 
289 
 
 How saucy Phoebus' scorching beams. 
 
 In flaming summer-pride, 
 Dry-withering, waste my foamy streams. 
 
 And drink my crystal tide. 
 
 The lightly-jumping, glowrin trouts. 
 
 That thro' my waters play, 
 If, in their random, wanton spouts. 
 
 They near the margin stray; 
 If, hapless chance ! they linger lang, 
 
 I'm scorching up so shallow. 
 They're left, the whitening stanes amang. 
 
 In gasping death to wallow. 
 
 Last day I grat wi' spite and teen. 
 
 As poet B**** came by. 
 That, to a bard, I should be seen 
 
 Wi' half my channel dry : 
 A panegyric rhyme, I ween. 
 
 Even as I was he shor'd me ; 
 But had I in my glory been. 
 
 He, kneeling, wad ador'd me. 
 
 Here, foaming down the skeivy rocks. 
 
 In twisting s^jength I rin: 
 There, high my boiling torrent smokes. 
 
 Wild-roaring o'er a linn: 
 Enjoying large each spring and well 
 
 As Nature gave them me, 
 
 B b I am. 
 
% am, altho' I say't myse!. 
 Worth gaun a. mile to see. 
 
 Would then my-Hoble master please 
 To grant my highest wishes, 
 
 He'll shade my banks wi' tow'ring treeSj 
 And bonnie spreading bushes. 
 
 Delighted doubly then, my Lord, 
 You'll wander on my banks. 
 
 And listan mony a grateful bird 
 " Return you< tuneful thanks* 
 
 The ^ober laverock, -warbling wild, 
 
 Shall to the skies aspire; 
 The gowdspink, Music's gayest child. 
 
 Shall sweetly join the choir: 
 The blackbird strong, the lintwhite clear^ 
 
 The mavis mild and mellow; 
 The robin pensive Autumn chear, 
 
 In all her locks of yellow: 
 
 This too, a covert shall ensure, 
 
 To shield them from the storm; 
 And coward r^iaukin sleep secure, 
 
 I^ow in her grassy form: 
 Here shall the shepherd make his seat, 
 
 To weave his crown of flow'rs; 
 Or find a sheltering safe retreat, 
 
 From prone descending show'rs. 
 
 And 
 
291 
 
 And here^ by sweet endearing stealtli, 
 
 Shall meet the loving pair, 
 Despising worlds with all their wealth 
 
 As empty idle care: 
 The flowVs shall vie in all their charms 
 
 The hour of heav'n to grace^ 
 And birks extend their fraerant arms 
 
 To screen the dear embrace.- 
 
 Here haply too, at vernal dawn. 
 
 Some musing bard may stray. 
 And eye the smoking, dewy lawn. 
 
 And misty mountain, grey; 
 Gr, by the reaper's nightly beam. 
 
 Mild- chequering thro' the trees. 
 Rave to my darkly-dashing stream. 
 
 Hoarse-swelling on the breeze. 
 
 tet lofty firs J and ashes cool. 
 
 My lowly banks o'erspread. 
 And view, deep-bending in the pool. 
 
 Their shadows' wat'ry bed : 
 Let fragrant birks in woodbines drest 
 
 My craggy cliffs adorn; 
 And, for the little songster's nest. 
 
 The close embow'ring thorn. 
 
 So may, oid Scotia's darling hope^ 
 Your little angel band 
 
 B b 2 Spring 
 
2g2 
 
 Spring, like their fathers, up to prop 
 
 Their honoured native land! 
 So may thro' Albion's farthest ken, 
 
 To social-flowing glasses. 
 The grace be ^f Athole's honest mtty 
 
 « And Athole's bonnie lasses P' 
 
 On scaring some Water-Foivl in LoCH-TuRITy 
 A wld scene among the Hills of Oughter^yre* 
 
 W HY, ye tenants of the lake. 
 For me your wat'ry haunt forsake ? 
 Tell me, fellow creatures, why 
 At my presence thus you fly? 
 Why disturb your social joys. 
 Parent, filial, kindred ties? — 
 Common friend to you and me. 
 Nature's gifts to all are free : 
 Peaceful keep your dimpling wave. 
 Busy feed, or wanton lavej 
 Or, beneath the sheltering rock, 
 Bide the surging billow's shock. 
 
 Conscious, blushing for our race, 
 Soon, too soon, your fears I trace* 
 Man your proud usurping foe. 
 Would be lord of all below; 
 
 Plumes 
 
293 
 
 Plumes himself in freedom's pride. 
 Tyrant stern to all beside. 
 
 The eagle, from the cliiFyljrow, 
 Marking you his prey below. 
 In his breast no pity dwells. 
 Strong necessity compels. 
 But, man, to whom alone is giv'n 
 A ray direct from pitying Heav'n, 
 
 Glories in his heart humane 
 
 And creatures for his pleasures slain. 
 
 In these savage, liquid plains. 
 Only known to wandering swains. 
 Where the mossy riv'let strays. 
 Far from human haunts and W2ys; 
 All on Nature you depend, 
 And life's poor season peaceful spend*. 
 
 Oty if man's superior might 
 Dare invade your native right. 
 On the lofty ether borne, 
 Man with all his pow'rs you scorn ^-. 
 Swiftly seek, on clanging wings. 
 Other lakes and other springs; 
 And the foe you cannot brave. 
 Scorn at least to be his slave. 
 
 B b 3 7n ///:v: 
 
294 
 
 JVriiten with a PENCIL over the ChiMNET-MECE^ 
 
 in the Parlour of the Inn at Kenmore^ Tat-^ 
 
 MOUTH. 
 
 JljlPMIRIng Nature in her wildest grace. 
 
 These northern scenes with weary feet I trace; l! 
 
 O'er many a winding dale and painful steep, 
 
 Th' abodes of covey'd grouse and timid sheep, 
 
 My savage journey, curious I pursue. 
 
 Till fam'd Breadalbane opens to my view.-— 
 
 The meeting cliffs each deep-sunk glen divides. 
 
 The woods, wild-scatter'd, clothe their ample sides, 
 
 Th* outstretching lake, imbosomed 'mong the hills. 
 
 The eye with wonder and amazement fills; 
 
 The Tay meand'ring sweet in infant pride. 
 
 The palace rising on his verdant side; 
 
 The lawns wood-fring'd in Nature's native taste; 
 
 The hillocks dropt in Nature's careless haste; 
 
 The arches striding o'er the new-born stream; n 
 
 The village glittering in the noontide beam—* 
 
 Poetic ardors in my bosom swell, 
 
 Lone wand'ring by the hermit's mossy cell: 
 
 The sweeping theatre of hanging woods; 
 
 Th' Incessant roar of headlong tumbling floods — 
 
 * # # * 
 
295 
 
 ******* 
 
 Here poesy might wake her heaven-taught lyre^, 
 
 And look through Nature with creative fire; 
 
 Here, to the wrongs of Fate half reconcil'd. 
 
 Misfortune's lighten^ steps might wander wild; 
 
 And disappointment, in these lonely bounds. 
 
 Find balm to sooth her bitter rankling wounds: 
 
 Here heart-struck grief, might heavenward stretch her- 
 
 scan, 
 And injur'd worth forget and pardon man. 
 
 Written with a PENCIL^ standing by the FaLL of 
 FrERSi near LocH-NeSS. 
 
 -LxMONG the heathy hills and ragged woods 
 
 The roaring Fyers pours his mossy floods; 
 
 Till full he dashes on the rocky mounds. 
 
 Where, thro' a shapeless breach, his stream resounds. 
 
 As high in air the bursting torrents flow. 
 
 As deep recoiling surges foam below. 
 
 Prone down the rock the whitening sheet descends. 
 
 And viewless Echo's ear, astonished, rends. 
 
 Dim-seen, through rising mists and ceaseless show'rs^ 
 
 The hoary cavern, wide-surrounding, low'rs* 
 
 Still thro' the gap the struggling river toils. 
 
 And still, below, the horrid caldron boils 
 
 OM 
 
296 
 
 * ON THE 
 
 Mirth of a Posthumous CniLDy horn inpecu^ 
 
 liar Circumstances of FamILT-DistresSw^ 
 
 DwEET flow'ret, pledge o' meifclc Iove> 
 
 And ward o' mony a prayer. 
 What heart o' stane wad thou na move,. 
 ^ Sae helpless, sweet, and fair- 
 November hirples o'er the lea. 
 
 Chill, on thy lovely form; 
 Andgane, alasf the sheh'ring tree. 
 
 Should shield thee frae the storm^- . 
 
 May He who gives the rain to pour,. 
 
 And wings the blast to blaw. 
 Protect thee frae the driving showV,, 
 
 The bitter frost and snaw. 
 
 May He, the friend of woe and want,. 
 
 Who heals life's various stounds. 
 Protect and guard the mother plant. 
 
 And heal her cruel wounds. 
 
 But 
 
297 
 
 But late she flourish'd, rooted fast^ 
 Fair on the summer morn: 
 
 Now, feebly bends she, in the blast> 
 Unshelter'd and forlorn. 
 
 Blest be thy bloom, thou lovely gem^ 
 Unscathed by rufBan hand I 
 
 And from thee many a parent stem 
 Arise to deck our land. 
 
 THE WHISTLE: 
 
 A BALLAD, 
 
 As the authentic prose history of the Whistle is 
 curious, I shall here give it. — In the train of 
 Anne of Denmark, when she came to Scotland 
 with our James the VI. there came over also a 
 Danish gentleman of gigantic stature and great 
 prowess, and a matchless champion of Bacchus. 
 He had a Httle ebony Whistle, which, at the 
 commencement of the orgies, he laid on the ta- 
 ble; and whoever was last able to blow it, eve- 
 ry body else being disabled by the potency of 
 the bottle, was to carry off the Whistle as a 
 trophy of victory. — The Dane produced cre- 
 dentials of his victories, without a single defeat, 
 
 at 
 
298 
 
 af the co^irts of Copenhagen, Stockholm, Mos-^- 
 cow, Warsaw, and several of the petty courts 
 in Germany, and challenged the Scots Baccha- 
 nalians to the alternative of trying his prowess, 
 or else of acknowledging their inferiority.— 
 After many overthrows on the part of the 
 Scots, the Dane was encountered by Sir Ro- 
 bert Lowrie of Maxwelton, ancestor to the pre- 
 sent worthy baronet of that name-, who, after 
 tluxe days and three nights, hard contest, left- 
 the Scandinavian under the table, 
 
 <^ And blew on the Whistle his requiim shrillJ*^ 
 
 Sir Walter, son to Sir Robert before mentioned^ 
 afterwards lost the whistle to Walter Riddel of^ 
 Glenriddel, who had married a sister of Sir 
 Walter's. — On Friday, the i6th October 1790, 
 at Friars-Carse, the Whistle was once more 
 contended for, as related in the Ballad,, by the 
 present Sir Robert Lowrie of Maxwelton •, Ro- 
 bert Riddel, Esq. of Glenriddel, lineal descen- 
 dant and representative of Walter Riddel, who 
 won the Whistle, and in whose family it had 
 continued; and Alexander Fergusson, Esq; of 
 Gralgdarroch, likewise descended of the great 
 Sir Robert-, which last gentleman carried off 
 the hard-won honours of the field* 
 
 1 Sing of a Whistle, a Whistle of wortli, 
 I sing of a Whistle, the pride of the North, 
 
 Wa.3v 
 
Was Brought 
 
 ^99 
 
 brought to the court of our good Scottish khigj 
 And long with this Wliistle all Scotland shall ring. 
 
 Old Loda*5 still rueing the arm of Fingal, 
 
 The god of the bottle sends down from his hall — 
 
 <« This Whistle's your challenge, to Scotland get o'er, 
 
 ^« And drink them to hell, Sir! or ne'er see me morel** 
 
 f^Old poets have sung, and old chronicles tell, 
 What champions ventured, what champions fell; 
 The son of great Loda was conqueror still, 
 
 I And blew on the Whistle his requiem shrill. 
 
 Till Robert, the lord of the Cairn and the Scaur, 
 Unmatch'd at the bottle, unconquer'd in war. 
 He drank his poor god-ship as deep as the sea^ 
 No tide of the Baltic e'er drunker than he. 
 
 Thus Robert, victorious, the trophy has gain'd. 
 Which now in his house has for ages remain'd; 
 Till three noble chieftains, and all of his blood, 
 The jovial contest again have renew'd. 
 
 Three joyous good fellows, with hearts clear of flaw; 
 vCraigdarroch, so famous for wit, worth, and law; 
 And trusty Glenriddel, so skill'd in old coins; 
 And gallant Sir Robert, deep-read in old wines. 
 
 Craigdarroch 
 
 * See Ofilan'fi Carlc-thura. 
 
300 
 
 Craigdarroch began^ with a tongue smooth as oil, 
 Desiring Glenriddel to yield up the spoil; 
 Or else he would muster the heads of the clan. 
 And once more, in claret, try which was the man. 
 
 <« By the gods of the ancients!'' Glenriddel replies, 
 «* Before I surrender so glorious a prize, 
 <« ril conjure the ghost of the great Rorie More*, 
 «« And bumper his horn with him twenty times o'er.'* 
 
 Sir Robert, a soldier, no speech would pretend. 
 But he ne'er turn'd his back on liis foe— or his friend. 
 Said, toss down the Whistle, the prize of the field. 
 And, knee-deep in claret, he'd die or he'd yield. 
 
 To the board of Glenriddel our heroes repair, 
 
 So noted for drowning of sorrow and carej 
 
 But for wine and for welcome not more known to 
 
 fame. 
 Than the sense, wit, and taste of a sweet lovely dame, 
 
 A bard was selected to witness the fray, 
 And tell future ages the feats of the day; 
 A bard who detested all sadness and spleen. 
 And wish'd that Parnassus a vineyard had been. 
 
 The dinner being over, the claret they ply, 
 Aiid ev'ry new cork is a new spring of joy; 
 
 In 
 * See Johnson's Tour to the Hebrides. 
 
301 
 
 In the bands of old friendship and kindred so set. 
 And the bands grew the tighter the more they were 
 wet. 
 
 Gay pleasure ran riot as bumpers ran o'er; 
 Bright Phoebus ne'er witness'd so joyous a core. 
 And vow^'d that to leave them he was quite forlorn, 
 Till Cynthia hinted he*d see them next morn. 
 
 Six bottles a-piece had well wore out the night. 
 When gallant Sir Robert, to finish the fight, 
 Turn'd o'er in one bumper a bottle of red. 
 And swore 'twas the way that their ancestor did. 
 
 Then worthy Glenrlddel, so cautious and sage. 
 No longer the warfare, ungodly, would wage^ 
 A high ruling elder to wallow in wine ! 
 He left the foul business to folks less divine. 
 
 The gallant Sir Robert fought hard to the end; 
 But who can with fate and quart bumpers contend? 
 Though fate said, — a hero should perish in light; 
 So uprose bright Phoebus — and down fell the knight. 
 
 Next uprose our bard, like a prophet in drink: — 
 
 " Craigdarroch, thou'lt soar when creation shall sink! 
 
 <« But if thou would flourish immortal in rhyme, 
 
 «< Come — one bottle more — and have at the sublime! 
 
 C « Thy 
 
^^ Thy line, that have struggled for freedom with 
 
 Bruce, 
 <« Shall heroes and patriots ever produce: 
 *^ So thine be the laurel, and mine be the bay; 
 *« The field thou hast won, by yon bright god of day F^ 
 
 THE JOLLY BEGGARS: 
 
 4 CANTATA, 
 
 UECITATIVO. 
 
 v\ HEN lyart leaves bestrow the ylrd, 
 Or wavering like the * Bauckie-bird, 
 
 Bedim cauld Boreas' blast; 
 When hailstanes drive wi' bitter skyte, 
 And infant frosts begin to bite, 
 In hoary cranreuch drest; 
 Ae night at e'en a merry core 
 
 O' randie, gangrcl bodies, 
 In Poosie-Nansie's held the splore, 
 To drink their orra duddies: 
 Wl' quaffing and laughing, 
 
 They ranted and they sang, 
 Wi' jumping and thumping, 
 The vera girdle rang, 
 
 . Fire 
 *• The olu Scotch r,ame for Uie Bat. 
 
3'^3 
 
 First nclst the fire, in auld red rags^ 
 Ane sat, weel brac'd wi' mealy bags^ 
 
 And knapsack a' in order; 
 His doxy lay within his arm, 
 Wi' usquebae an' blankets warm. 
 
 She blinkit on hct sodger: 
 An' ay he gies the tozie drab 
 The tither skelpin kiss. 
 While she held up her greedy gab 
 Just like an aumos dish. 
 
 Ilk smack still, did crack stilly 
 
 Just like a cadger's whip, 
 Then staggering and swaggering 
 He roar'd this ditty up — 
 
 AIR. 
 
 Tune — Soldier's Jof.^ 
 I. 
 I am a son of Mars who have been in many wars. 
 And show my cuts and scars wherever I comcj 
 This here was for a wench,, and that other in a trench, 
 When welcoming the French at the sound of the 
 drum- 
 Lai de daudle, &c. 
 
 n. 
 
 My prenticeship I past where my leader breathM his 
 
 last. 
 When the bloody die was cast on the heights of 
 
 Abramj 
 
 G c a I served 
 
3^4 
 
 I served out my trade when the gallant game was 
 
 play'd 
 And the Moro low was laid at the sound of the drum- 
 
 Lai de daudle> &c. 
 
 III. 
 
 I lastly was with Curtis, among the floating batt'rles^^ 
 And there I left for witness an arm and a limb; 
 Yet let my country need me, with Elliot to head me, 
 I'd clatter on my stumps at the sound of a drum. 
 
 Lai de daudle, &c. 
 
 IV. 
 
 And now tho' I miUst beg with a wooden arm and leg, 
 And many a tatter'd rag hanging over my bum, 
 I'm as happy with my wallet, my bottle and my callet, 
 As when I us'd in scarlet to follow a drum. 
 
 Lai de daudle, &c. 
 
 V. 
 
 What tho' with hoary locks, I ^lust stand the winter 
 
 shocks. 
 Beneath the woods and rocks oftentimes for a home. 
 When the tother bag I sell, and the tother bottle tell, 
 I could meet a troop of hell, at the sound of the drum* 
 
 Lai de daudle, &c* 
 
 RECITATIVO. 
 
3^5 
 
 RECITATIVO. 
 
 He ended; and the kebars sheuk, 
 
 Aboon the chorus roar; 
 While frighted rattons backward leuk^ 
 
 And seek the benmost bore ; 
 A fairy fiddler frae the neuk, 
 
 He skirl'd out encore! 
 But up arose the martial chuck. 
 
 And laid the loud uproar. 
 
 AIR. 
 
 Tune — Soldier Laddte^ 
 
 i once was a maid, tho* I cannot tell when. 
 And still my delight is in proper young men; 
 Some one of a troop of dragoons was my daddie. 
 No wonder I'm fond of a sodger laddie. 
 
 Sing, Lai de lal, Sec* 
 
 H. 
 
 The first of my loves was a swaggering blade, 
 To rattle the thundering drum was his trade; 
 His leg was so tight, and his cheek was so ruddy. 
 Transported I was with my sodger laddie. 
 
 Sing, Lal de lal, &c. 
 Cc 3 IIL 
 
3o6 
 
 But the godly old chaplain left himin the lurch^ 
 The sword I forsook for the sake of the church; 
 He ventured the soul^ and I risked the bodyy 
 fXv/as then I prov'd false to my sodger laddie. 
 
 Sing, Lai de lal>.&c, 
 
 IV. 
 
 Fall soon I grew sick of my sanctified sat> 
 The regiment at large for a, husband I got; 
 From the gilded spontoon to the fife I was read y^^,, 
 I ask'd no more but a sodger laddie. 
 
 Singj Lai de lal, &c» 
 
 V. 
 
 But the peace it reduc'd me to beg In despair, 
 Till I met my old boy at a Cunningham fair; 
 His rags regimental they flutter'd so gaudv. 
 My heart it rejoic'd at my sodger laddie. 
 
 Sing, Lai de lal, &c. 
 
 VL 
 
 And now I have livVl — -I know not how long,- 
 And still I can join in a cup or a song; 
 But whilst with both hands I can hold the glass steady, 
 Here's to thee, my hero, my sodger laddie. 
 
 Sing, Lai de lal, &c. 
 
 KECITATIVO, 
 
3^7 
 
 KECITATIVO.- 
 
 Then neist outspak a raucle carlin, 
 Wha kent fu' weel to cleek the sterlings . 
 For mony a pursie sKe had hooked. 
 And had in mony a well been ducked* 
 Her dove had been a Highland laddie^ 
 But weary fa' the waefu' woodie ! 
 Wi' sights and sobs she thus began 
 To wail her braw John Highlandmaru. 
 
 AIR; 
 
 Tune — an ye were dead gudemam ^ 
 
 L 
 
 A Highland lad my love was born, 
 The Lalland laws he held in scorn ^, 
 But he still was faithfu' to his clan. 
 My gallant braw John Highlandman, . 
 
 CHORUS.^ 
 
 Sing, hey my braw John Highlandman! 
 Sing, ho my braw John Highlandman! 
 There's not a lad in a' the Ian' 
 Was match for my John Highlandmam 
 
 II. 
 
 With his philibeg an' tartan plaid, - 
 An' gude claymore down by his side, 
 
 Tlic 
 
3o8 
 
 The ladies* hearts he did trepan. 
 My gallant braw John Highlandman, 
 
 Sing, hcy^ &c^ 
 
 III. 
 
 We ranged a' from Tweed to Spejr,, 
 An' liv'd like lords and ladies gay; 
 For a Lalland face he feared none. 
 My gallant braw John Highlandman. 
 
 Sing, hey, &(r^ 
 
 IV. 
 
 They banish'd him beyond the sea,. 
 But ere the bud was on the tree, 
 Adown my cheeks the pearls ran. 
 Embracing my John Highlandman, 
 
 Sing, hey, &c^ 
 
 V. 
 
 But, oh! they catch'dhim at the last. 
 An*; bound him in a dungeon fast; 
 My curse upon them every one, 
 They've hang'd my braw John Highlandman. 
 
 Sing, hey, &g^ 
 
 VL 
 
 And now a widow I must mourn 
 The pleasures that will n«'er return; 
 
 No 
 
309 
 
 No comfort but a hearty can. 
 When I think on John Highlandman. 
 
 Sing, hey, Src>- 
 
 RECITATIYO^ 
 
 A pigmy scraper wi' his fiddle, 
 
 Wha us'd to trysts and fairs to driddle^ 
 
 Her strappan Kmb and gawsy middle 
 
 He reach'd nae higher^. 
 Had holM his heartie like a riddle, 
 
 An' blawn^t on fire. 
 
 Wi' hand on haunch, an* upward e'e. 
 He croon'd his gamut, one, two, three^ 
 Then in an Arioso key. 
 
 The wee ApoIIa^ 
 Set off wi' Allegretto glee 
 
 His giga solo. 
 
 AIR. 
 
 Tune — Whistle oivre the lave oH^. 
 I. 
 
 Let. me ryke up to dight that tear. 
 An' go wi' me to be my dear, 
 An' then your every care and fear 
 May whistle owre the lave o't- 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
3ro 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 J am a fiddler to my trade, 
 An' a' tke tunes that e'er I play' J^ 
 The sweetest still to wife or maid. 
 Was v/histle owre the lave o't. 
 
 IL 
 
 At kirns an' weddings wc^3e be there> 
 An' O! sae nicely's we will fair; 
 We'll bouse about till Daddie Care 
 Sing, whistle owre the lave o't. 
 
 I am, &c«J 
 
 im 
 
 Sae merrily's the banes we'll pyfce, 
 An' sun- oursells about the dyke. 
 An' at our leisure when ye like, 
 
 We'll whistle owre the lave o't* 
 
 I am, &c._ 
 
 IV. 
 
 5^ 
 
 But bless me wi' your heaven o' charms 
 
 And while I kittle hair on thairms, 
 Hunger^ cauldy an' a' sic harms. 
 
 May whistle owre the lave o't.. 
 
 I am, &c. 
 
 RECITATIVO^ 
 
3^^ 
 
 HECITATIVO. 
 
 Her cliarms had struck a sturdy Caird, 
 
 As weel as poor Gutscraper; 
 He taks the fiddler by the beard. 
 
 And draws a roosty rapier. — 
 He swoor by a' was swearing worth. 
 
 To speet him hke a pliver, 
 Unless he would from that time forth, 
 
 Relinquish her for ever. 
 
 Wi' ghastly e'e, poor tweedle-dee 
 
 Upon his hunkers bended, 
 And pray'd for grace wi' ruefu' face, 
 
 An' so the quarrel ended. 
 But tho' his little heart did grieve. 
 
 When round the tinker prest her. 
 He feign'd to snirtle in his sleeve. 
 
 When thus the Caird address'd her, 
 
 AIR. 
 
 Tune — Clout the caudron. 
 I. 
 
 My bonny lass I work in brass, 
 
 A tinker is my station; 
 I've traveird round all Christian ground 
 
 In this my occupation. 
 I'v^ ta'en the gold, I've been enroll'd 
 
 In many a noble squadron; 
 
 PiUt 
 
312 
 
 But vain they searched, when off I march'd 
 To go and clout the caudron. 
 
 I've ta'en the gold, &c. 
 
 II. 
 
 Despise that shrimp, that withcrM Imp, 
 
 Wi' a' his noise an' caprin. 
 An' tak' a share wi' those that beat 
 
 The budget an' the apron. 
 An' by that stowp ! my faith an' houpe. 
 
 An' by that dear* Keilbaigie, 
 If e'er ye want, or meet wi' scant. 
 
 May I ne'er weet my craigie. 
 
 An' by that stowp, &c* 
 
 RECITATIVO. 
 
 . The Caird prevail'd — th' unblushing fair 
 In his embraces sunk, 
 Partly wl' love o'ercome sae sair. 
 
 An' partly she was drunk. 
 Sir Violino with an air, 
 
 That show'd a man of spunk, 
 Wish'd unison between the pair. 
 An' made the bottle clunk 
 
 To their health that night. 
 But 
 
 * A peculiar sort of Whisky so called; a great favourite 
 with Poosie-Nansie's clubs. 
 
3^3 
 
 But hurchin Cupid shot a shaft 
 
 That play'd a dame a shavie, 
 The fiddler rak'd her fore and aft, 
 
 Behint the chicken cavie. 
 Her lord, a wight o' f Homer^s craft, 
 
 Tho' limping wi*^ the spavie. 
 He hirpl'd up, and lap like daft, 
 
 An' shor'd them Dainty Daivie 
 
 O boot ^hat night. 
 
 He was a care-defying blade 
 As ever Bacchus listed, 
 X Tho' Fortune sair upon him laid. 
 His heart she ever miss'd it. 
 He had no wish but — to be glad. 
 
 Nor want but — when he thirsted; 
 He hated nought but— to be sad. 
 And thus the muse suggested 
 
 His sang that night. 
 
 AIR. 
 
 Tune — For a' thaty an' a' that. 
 I. 
 
 I am a bard of no regard, 
 
 Wi' gentle folks, an' a' that; 
 But Homer4ike^ the glowran byke, 
 
 Frae town to town I draw that. 
 
 D d CHORUS 
 
 t Homer is allowed to be the oldest ballad singer on record. 
 
. 3H 
 
 C H O H U S. 
 
 For a* that, an' a' that, 
 
 An* twice as muckle's a' that 5 
 I've lost but ane, Tve twa behind 
 
 Fve wife enough for a' that* 
 
 IL 
 
 I never drank the Muses' starik, 
 Castalia's burn, an' a' that; 
 
 But there it streams, and richly reams. 
 My Helicon I ca' that. 
 
 For a' that, &c. 
 
 III. 
 
 Great love I bear to a* the fair, 
 ITieir humble slave, an' a' that; 
 
 But lordly will, I hold it still 
 A mortal sin to thraw that. 
 
 For a' that, &c, 
 
 IV. 
 
 In raptures sweet, this hour we meet, 
 Wi' mutual love an' a' that*, 
 
 But for how lang the Jlie may stang^ 
 J^et inclination law that. 
 
 For a' that, &c. 
 
3^5 
 
 V. 
 
 Theit tricks and craft have put me daft. 
 
 They've ta'en me in, an' a' that; 
 But clear your decks, an' here's the sexf 
 
 1 like the jads for a' that. 
 
 For a' that, an' a' that. 
 
 An' twice as muckle's a' that; 
 
 My dearest bluidy to do them guid. 
 They're welcome tili't for a' that- 
 
 RECITATIVO. 
 
 So sung the bard — and Nansie's wa^s 
 Shook with a thunder of applause, 
 
 Re-echo'd from each mouth; 
 They toom'd their pocks, an' pawn'd their duds> 
 They scarcely left to coor their fuds, 
 
 To quench their lowan drouth. 
 
 Then owre again, the jovial thrang. 
 
 The poet did request. 
 To lowse his pack an' wale a sang, 
 A ballad o' the best: 
 
 He rising, rejoicing 
 
 Between his twa Deborahs, 
 Looks round him, an' found them 
 Impatient for the chorus. 
 
 D d 2 AIR.' 
 
3i6 
 
 AIR. 
 
 Tune — Jolly mortals fill your glasses. 
 I. 
 
 See [ the smoking bowl before us, 
 Mark our jovial ragged ring! 
 
 Round and round take up the chorus^ 
 And in raptures let us sing, 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 A fig for those by law protected! 
 
 Libert f^ a glorious feast! 
 Courts for cowards were erected, 
 
 Churches built to please the priest. 
 
 II. 
 
 What is title? what is treasure? 
 
 What is reputation's care? 
 If we lead a life of pleasure, 
 
 'Tis no matter how or where! 
 
 A fig, &c. 
 
 III. 
 
 With the ready trick and fable, 
 Round we wancfer all the dayj 
 
 And at night, in barn or stable, 
 Hug our doxies on the hay. 
 
 A fig, &c. 
 
 IV. 
 
2>n 
 
 IV. 
 
 Does the train-attended carriage 
 Through the country lighter rove? 
 
 Does the sober bed of marriage 
 Witness brighter scenes of love? 
 A fig, &c. 
 
 V. 
 
 Life IS all a variorum^ 
 
 We regard not how it goes; 
 Let them cant about decorum 
 
 Who have characters to lose. 
 
 A fig, &c^ 
 
 VL 
 
 Here 's to budgetsj bags and wallets! 
 
 Here's to all the wandering train! 
 Here 's our ragged brats and calletsl 
 
 One and all cry out, Amen! 
 
 A fig for those by law protected ! 
 
 -Liberty^ s a glorious feast! 
 Courts for cowards were erected. 
 
 Churches built to please the priest. 
 
 D d 3 THE 
 
3i8 
 
 THE 
 
 KIRK'S ALARMf: 
 
 A SATIRE, 
 
 Urthodox, orthodox, wha believe in John Knox, 
 Let me sound an alarm to your conscience 5 
 
 There 's a heretic l)last has been blawn i^ the wast. 
 That what is no sense must be nonsense. 
 
 Dr. Mac'*^, Dr. Mac, you should stretch on a rack. 
 
 To strike evil doers wi' terror j 
 To join faith and sense upon ony pretence, 
 
 Is heretic, damnable error. 
 
 Town of Ayr, town of Ayr, it was mad I declare, 
 
 To meddle wi' mischief a-brewing; 
 Provost John is still deaf to the churches relief. 
 
 And orator Bob § is its ruin. 
 
 Drymple mild[], Drymple mild, tho' your heart's like a 
 child. 
 And your life like the new driven snaw. 
 
 Yet 
 t This Poem was written a fliort time after the publication 
 (of Dr. M^Giirs ElTay. ' 
 • Dt. M' 11. § R 1 A n. „ 11 Dr. D c. 
 
319 
 
 Yet that winna save ye, auld Satan must have ye, 
 For preaching that three 's ane and twa. 
 
 Rumble John^, Rumble John, mount the steps wi' a 
 groan, 
 
 Cry the book is wV heresy cramm'd ; 
 Then lug out your ladle, deal brimstone like adle. 
 
 And roar every note of the damn'd. 
 
 Simper James:]:, Simper James, leave the fair Killiedamc^, 
 
 There 's a holier chace in your view; 
 ril lay on your head, that the pack ye'U soon lead. 
 
 For puppies like you there 's but few. 
 
 Singet Sawneyf, Singet Sawney, are ye herding the 
 penny, . ^ 
 
 Unconscious what evils await; 
 Wi' a jump, yell and howl, alarm every soul, 
 
 For the foul thief is just at your gate. 
 
 Daddy Auld||, Daddy Auld, there's a tod in the fauld 
 
 A tod meikle waur than the Clerk; 
 Tho' ye can do little skaith, ye'll be in at the death. 
 
 And gif ye canna bite, ye may bark. 
 
 Davie Bluster§, Davie Bluster, if for a saint ye do 
 muster, 
 The corps is no nice of recruits; 
 
 Yet 
 
 ^Mr. R 11. tMr.M* v. t Mr. M y. 
 
 il Mr. A— d. § Mr. G , O 
 
3^o 
 
 Yet to worth let's be just, royal blood you might boast. 
 If the ass was the king of the brutes. 
 
 Jamy Goosef, Jamy Goose, ye ha'e made but toom 
 roose, 
 
 In hunting the wicked Lieutenant; 
 But the Doctor's your mark, for the L*— d's haly ark. 
 
 He has cooper'd and ca'd a wrang pin in't. 
 
 Poet Willie§, Poet Willie, gi' the Doctor a volly, 
 
 Wi' jour liberty's chain and your wit; 
 O'er Pegasus' side ye ne'er laid a stride, 
 
 Ye but smelt, man, the place where he sh-t. 
 
 Andro Gouk||, Andro Gouk, ye may slander the book. 
 And the book not tft((^aur let me tell ye; 
 
 Ye are rich, and look big, but lay by hat and wig. 
 And ye'U ha'e a calf s head o' sma' value. 
 
 Barr Steennief, Barr Steennie, what mean ye? what 
 mean ye? 
 
 If ye'U meddle nae mair wi' the matter. 
 Ye may ha'e some pretence to havins and sense, 
 
 "Wi* people wha ken ye nae better. 
 
 Irvine side:}^, Irvine side, wi' your turkey-cock pride. 
 Of manhood but sma' is your share; 
 
 Ye've 
 
 tjMr. Y g,C k. §Mr.P s,A-^r. ||Dr.A.M — .IL 
 
 f Mr, S n Y , B-r. J Mr. S h, G n. 
 
321 
 
 YeVe the figure, 'tis true, ev'n your faes will allow. 
 And your friends they dare grant you nae mair. 
 
 Muirland Jock§, Muirland Jock, when the L — d makes 
 a rock, 
 
 To crush common sense for her sins. 
 If ill manners were wit, there's no mortal so fit 
 
 To confound the poor Doctor at ance. 
 
 Holy Will II, Holy Will, there was wit i' your skull, 
 When ye pilfer'd the alms o' the poor; 
 
 The timmer is scant, when ye're ta'en for a saint, 
 Wha should swing in a rape for an hour. 
 
 Calvin's sons, Calvin's sons, seize your sp'ritual guns. 
 
 Ammunition you never can need J 
 Your hearts are the stufF, will be powther enough. 
 
 And your skulls are storehouses o' lead. 
 
 Poet Burns, Poet Burns, wi' your priest-skelping turns, 
 
 Why desert ye your auld native shire; 
 Your muse is a gipsle, e'en tho' she were tipsie. 
 
 She cou'd ca' us nae waur than we are. 
 
 ANSWER 
 § Mr. S — — .d. 11 An E r in M— c. 
 
322 
 ANSWER 
 
 TO AN 
 
 EPISTLE FROM A TAYLOR. 
 
 W HAT ails ye now, ye lousie b h > 
 To thresh my back at sic a pitch? 
 Losh man! hae^merey wi' your natch, 
 
 Your bodkin's bauld, 
 I did na suffer ha'f sae much 
 
 Frae Daddie Auld* 
 
 What tho* at times when I grow crouse, 
 I gi'e their wames a random pouse. 
 Is that enough for you to souse 
 
 Your servant sae ? 
 Gae mind your seam, ye prick the louse^. 
 
 An' jag the flae. 
 
 King David o' poetic brief. 
 
 Wrought 'mang the lasses sic mischief 
 
 As fiird his after life wi' grief 
 
 Avi bloody rants. 
 An* yet he's rank'd amang the chief 
 
 O' lang syne saunts. 
 
 And maybe. Tarn, for a' my cant«. 
 My wicked rhymes, and drucken rants, 
 
 rii 
 
3^3 
 
 1*11 gie auld cloven Clooty's haunts 
 
 An unco slip yet. 
 
 An' snugly sit amang the s aunts. 
 
 At Davie's hip yet. 
 
 Ptit fegs, the Session says I maun 
 
 Gae fa' upo' anither plan, 
 
 Than garren lasses cowp the cran. 
 
 Clean heels owre body, 
 And sairly thole their mither's ban, 
 
 Afore the howdy. 
 
 This leads me on, to tell for sport. 
 How I did wi' the Session sort — ^ 
 Auld Clinkum at the Inner port 
 
 Cry'd three times, « Robin ! 
 «< Come hither lad, an' answer for't, 
 
 " Ye're blam'd for jobbln'." 
 
 Wi' pinch I put a Sunday's face on. 
 An' snoov'd awa' before the Session — 
 I made an open fair confession, 
 
 I scorn'd to lie; 
 An' syne Mess John, beyond expression, 
 
 Fell foul o' me. 
 
 A f urnicator lown he callM me, 
 An'^-said my fau't frae bliss expelFd me; 
 I own'd thetale was true he teli'd me, 
 .-^ < But what the matter,* 
 
 "^ Quo' I, 
 
324 
 
 Quo' I, ^ I fear unless ye geld me, 
 
 ^ ril ne'er be better.* 
 
 «« Geld you!" quo' he, ^< and whatfore no, 
 <« If that your right hand, leg or toe, 
 <« Should ever prove your sp'ritual foe, 
 
 ^« You shou'd remember 
 ^< To cut it afF, an' whatfore no, 
 
 " Your dearest member." 
 
 < Na, na,' quo' I, * Fm no for that, 
 « Gelding's nae better than 'tis ca't, 
 
 < I'd rather suffer for my fau't, 
 
 ^ A hearty flewit, 
 
 < As sairowre hip as ye can draw't! 
 
 . /« Tho' I should rue it. 
 
 < Or gin jt like to end the bother, 
 ^ To please us a', I've just ae ither, 
 
 < When next wi' yon lass I forgather, 
 
 ^ Whate'er betide it, 
 
 < rtl frankly gi'e her't a' thegithcr, 
 
 < An' let her guide it.* 
 
 But, Sir, this pleas'd them warst ava. 
 An' therefore, Tarn, when that I saw, 
 I said, < Gude night,' and cam' awa. 
 
 And left the ScssLmi; 
 I saw they were resolved a' 
 
 On my oppression 
 
 %c 
 
3^5 
 
 SONG, 
 
 Written and sung at a General Meeting of the Ex^ 
 
 cise-Officers in Scotland. 
 
 I. 
 
 X HE de'il cam' fiddling thro' thetown^ 
 And danc'd awa' wi' the Exciseman; 
 And ilk auld wife cry'd, ^^ Auid Mahoun, 
 <i We wish you luck o' the prize man. 
 
 CHOT.US. 
 
 <^ We'll mak' our maut, and brew 
 «« We'll dance and sing and rejoice 
 ^^ And mony thanks to the mucklc 
 " That danc'd awa' wi' the Exciseman, 
 
 IL 
 
 «^ There's threesome reels, and foursome reels, 
 ^^ There's hornpipes and strathspeys, man; 
 ^^ But the ae best dance e'er cam' to our laa, 
 '^< Wa^ the deil's awa' wi' the Exciseman. 
 
 / 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 « We'll mak^ our maut, &c' 
 
 E e THE 
 
3^6 
 
 THE 
 
 T W A H E R D Sf 
 
 yj a' ye pious godly flocks, 
 Weel fed on pastures orthodox, 
 Wha now will keep you frae the fox. 
 
 Or worrying tykes. 
 Or wha will tent the waifs and crocks. 
 
 About the dykes. 
 
 The twa best herds in a' the wast, 
 That^^eJer ga'e gospel horn a blast. 
 These five and twenty summers past, 
 
 O! dool to tell, 
 Ha'e had a bitter black out-cast 
 
 Atween themsel. 
 
 O, M y, man, and wordy R 11, 
 
 How could you raise so vile a bustle, 
 Ye'U see how new-light herds will whistle. 
 And think it fine! 
 
 The 
 # 
 I This piece was among the first of our Author's produc- 
 ticms v/hich he submitted to the public; and was occasioned 
 by a dispute between two Clergymen, near Kilmarnock. 
 
The Lord^s cause ne'er gat sic a twistle. 
 Sin' I ha'e min'. 
 
 O, sirs ! whae'er wad ha'e expekit, 
 
 Your duty ye wad sae neglekit. 
 
 Ye wha were ne'er by lairds respekit. 
 
 To wear the plaid^ 
 But by the brutes themselves elekit, 
 
 To be their guide. 
 
 What flock wi' M y's- flock could rant, ' 
 
 Sae hak and hearty every shank, 
 Nae poison'd soor Arminian stank. 
 
 He let them taste, 
 Frae Calvin's well, ay clear they drank, 
 
 O' sic a feast ! 
 
 The thummatt, willcat, brock and tod, 
 Weel kend his voice thro' a' the wood. 
 He smell'd their ilka hole and road, 
 
 Baith out and in. 
 And weel he lik'd to shed their bluid. 
 
 And sell their skin. 
 
 What herd like R II tell'd his tale, 
 
 His voice was heard thro' muir and dale. 
 He kend the Lord's sheep ilka tail. 
 
 O'er a' the height, 
 And saw gin they were sick or hale. 
 At the first sight. 
 E e 2 He 
 
328 
 
 He fine a mangy sheep could scruB> 
 
 Or nobly fling the gospel club, 
 
 And new-light herds could nicely drub:^ 
 
 Or pay their skin. 
 Could shake them o'er the burning dub, 
 
 Or heave them in. 
 
 Sic twa, O! do I live to see't, 
 Sic famous twa should disagreet, 
 And names, like villain, hypocrite, 
 
 Ilk ither gi'en. 
 While new-light herds wi' laughin' spite^^ 
 
 Say neither's liein\ 
 
 A' ye v/ha tent the gospel fauld. 
 
 There's J) n deep and P- s, shaul^. 
 
 But chiefly thou, apostle A — d. 
 
 We trust in thee, 
 That thou wilt work them, hot and cauld^ 
 
 Till they agree. 
 
 Consider, Sirs, how we're beset, 
 There's scarce a new herd that we get, 
 But comes frae 'mang that cursed set, 
 
 I winna name, 
 I hope frae heav'n to see them yet 
 
 In fiery flame. 
 
 X). -e lias been lang our fae,- 
 
 Ivj< — .^11 has wrought us meikle wac, 
 
 And 
 
229 
 
 And that curs'd rascal ca'd M^ e. 
 
 And baith the S— — s, 
 
 That-aft ha'e made us black and blae^ 
 Wi' vengefu' paws. 
 
 Auld W w lang has hatched mischief, 
 
 We thought ay death wad bring relief. 
 But he has gotten to our grief, 
 
 Ane to succeed him, 
 A chield wha'U soundly buff our beef; 
 
 I meikle dread him. 
 
 And mony a ane that I could tell, 
 Wha fain would openly rebel, 
 Forby turn-coats amang oursel, 
 
 There's S — h for ane, 
 I doubt he's but a grey nick quill, 
 
 And that ye'U fin'. 
 
 O ! a' ye flocks, o'er a' the hills. 
 
 By mosses, meadows, moors, and fells. 
 
 Come join your counsel and your skills. 
 
 To cow the lairds. 
 And get the brutes the power themsells. 
 
 To choose their herds. 
 
 Then orthodoxy yet may prance, 
 And learning in a woody cknce. 
 And that fell cur ca'd common sense. 
 That bites sae sair, 
 Ee 3 B^ 
 
Be bamsh'd o'er the sea to France, 
 
 Let him bark there; 
 
 The-ti Shaw's and Daltymple's eloquenceit^^ 
 
 M^ IPs close nervous excellence, 
 
 M*Q — e's pathetic manly sense, 
 
 And guid M^ h, 
 
 "Wi' S — th wha tliro' the heart can glance^. 
 
 May a' pack afF. 
 
 HOLY WILLIE'S PRAYER. 
 
 vJ THOU, wha in the heavens dost dweli^ 
 Wha, as it pleases best thysel'. 
 Sends ane to heaven and ten to hell, 
 
 A' for thy glory, 
 And no for ony guid or ill 
 
 They've done afore thee I 
 
 I bless and praise thy matchless might. 
 Whan thousands thou hast left in night, 
 That I am here afore thy sight. 
 
 For gifts an' grace, 
 A burnin' an' a shinin' light. 
 
 To a' this place.. 
 
 What was I, or my generation, 
 TThat I should get such exaltation; 
 
 I wha 
 
331 
 
 Jwha deserve sic just damnation, 
 
 For broken lawsj 
 
 Five thousand years 'fore my creation, 
 
 Thro' Adam's cause. 
 
 When frae my mither's womb I fell, . 
 Thou might hae plunged me in hell, 
 To gnash my gums, to weep and waiJ^ 
 
 In burnin' lake, 
 Whar damned devils roar and yell, 
 
 Ghain'd to a stake* 
 
 Yet I am here a chosen sample, 
 
 To show thy grace is great an' ampler- 
 
 I'm here a pillar in thy tem.ple, 
 
 Strong as a rock^ 
 A guide, a buckler, an' example 
 
 To a' thy flock. 
 
 But yet, O L — d ! confess I must. 
 At times I'm fash'd wi' fleshly lust. 
 An' sometimes too, wi' warldly trust- 
 
 Vile self gets in 5 
 But thou rem^embers we are dust, 
 
 Defird in sin. 
 
 O L — d ! yestreen, thou kens, wi' Meg, 
 
 Thy pardon I sincerely beg, 
 
 O! may it ne'er be a livin' plague 
 
 To my dishonour; 
 
 An' 
 
33^ 
 
 An' ril ne'er lift a lawless I~g 
 
 Again upon hen 
 
 Besides, I farther maun allow, 
 Wi' Lizie's lass, three times I trow 5 
 But, L — d, that Friday I was fow. 
 
 When I came near her. 
 Or else, thou kens, thy servant true 
 
 Wad ne'er ha'e steer'd her* 
 
 Maybe thou lets \K\^ jleshJy thorny 
 Beset thy servant e'en and morn, 
 Lest he owre high and proud shou'd turn, 
 
 'Cause he's sae gifted^ 
 If sae, thy han' maun e'en be bom. 
 
 Until thou lift it. 
 
 L-^d bless thy chosen in this place. 
 
 For here thou hast a chosen race; 
 
 But G — d confound their stubborn face. 
 
 And blast their name,. 
 Wha bring thy elders to disgrace. 
 
 An' public shame, 
 
 L — d mind G n H — n's deserts. 
 
 He drinks, an' swears, an' plays ar carts. 
 Yet has sae mony takin' arts, 
 
 Wi' grit an' sma', 
 Frae G-— d's an' priest the people's hearts 
 
 He steals awa'. 
 
 An? 
 
An' whan we chasten'd him therefore^ 
 Thou kens how he bred sic a splore, 
 As set the warld in a roar 
 
 O'laughin' at us;- 
 Curse thou his basket and his atore, 
 
 Kail an' potatoes*. 
 
 L — d hear my earnest cry an' pray'r, 
 
 Against that presbyt'ry o' Ayr; 
 
 Thy strong right hand, L — d make it bare> 
 
 Upo' their heads, 
 L — d weigh it down, and dinna spare, 
 
 For their misdeeds. 
 
 O L — d my G — d, that ghb-tongu'd A n^,. 
 
 My very heart an' saul are quakin', 
 
 To think how we stood sweatin', shakin'. 
 
 An' p — d wi' dread, 
 While he wi* hingin' lips and snakin'. 
 
 Held up his head. 
 
 L — d in the day of vengeance try him, 
 L — d visit them wha did employ him. 
 An' pass not in thy mercy by 'em, 
 
 Nor hear their pray'r^ 
 But for thy people's sake destroy 'em. 
 
 And dinna spare. 
 
 But, L — d remember me and mine 
 Wi' mercies temporal and divine, 
 
 That 
 
334 
 
 That I for gear and grace may shine^ 
 Exceird by nane, 
 
 An' a' the glory shall be thine. 
 
 Amen, Amen* 
 
 THE INVENTORY. 
 
 In ansiver to a Mandate by the Surveyor of the Tapies*. 
 
 [This Poem has been printed in the Liverpool edition^ 
 but is here given with additions^r^w a manuscript of 
 the Author. The lines added are printed in ItaUcs . J 
 
 »biR> as your mandate did request, 
 I send you here a faithfu' list, 
 O' gudes an' gear, an' a' my graith^ 
 To which I'm clear to gi^e my aith* 
 
 Imprimis then, for carriage cattle, 
 I have four brutes o' gallant mettle, 
 As ever drew afore a pettle. 
 My f Lai-^ afore\ 2. gude auld has been^ 
 An' wight an' wilfu' a' his days been. 
 My * Lan^ ahiri!^ a weel gaun fiUie, 
 That aft has borne me hame frae Killiejj 
 
 t The fore hbrse on the left-hand In the plough 
 * The hindmost on the kft-hand m the plough. 
 I Kilmarnock. 
 
 An' 
 
^35 
 
 An* your auld burrough mony a time. 
 
 In days when riding was nae crime • 
 
 But ance ivhan in my ivooing pride 
 
 Hike a blockhead boost to ride^ 
 
 The wilfu' creature sae I pat tOy 
 
 (L — d pardon a' my si?is an' that to!) 
 
 Iplafd myJiUie sic a shavicy 
 
 She's a' bedevil' d luT the spavie. 
 
 My jl Furrahifi's a wordy beast^ 
 
 As e'er in tug or tow was trac'd. — 
 
 The fourth's a Highland Donald hastie, 
 
 A d — n'd red-wud Kilburnie blastiej 
 
 Foreby a Cowt^ o' Cowt's the wale, 
 
 As ever ran afore a tail. 
 
 If he be spar'd to be a beast, 
 
 He'll draw me fifteen pun' at least. — 
 
 Wheel carriages I ha'e but few, 
 
 Three carts, an' twa are feckly new; 
 
 Ae auld wheelbarrow, mair for token, 
 
 Ae leg an' baith the trams are broken; 
 
 I made a poker o' the spin'le, 
 
 An' my auld mother brunt the trin'le. — 
 
 For men, I've three mischievous boys. 
 
 Run deils for rantin and for noise; 
 
 A gaudsman ane, a thrasher t'other. 
 
 Wee Davock bauds the nowt in fother. 
 
 I rule them as I ought, discreetly, 
 
 Au' afteu labour them compleatly. 
 
 An' 
 
 8 The hixxdmoft hovvi on the right-hand in tlie plough. 
 
An' ay on Sundays duly nightly, 
 I on the questions targe them tightly; 
 Till faith, wee Davock's turn'd sae gleg, 
 Tho' scarcely langer than your leg, 
 He'll screed you aff Effectual Calling, 
 As fast as onyin the dwalling. — 
 IVe nane in female servan' station, 
 (L— d keep me ay frae a' temptation!) 
 I ha'e nae wife ; and that my bliss is, 
 An' ye have laid nae tax on misses; 
 An* then if kirk folks dinna clutch me, 
 I ken the devils dare na touch me. 
 Wi' weans Fm mair than weel contented, 
 Heav'n sent me ane mae than I wanted. 
 My sonsie smirking dear-bought Bess, 
 She stares the daddy in her face. 
 Enough of ought ye like but graces 
 But her, my bonnie sweet v/ee lady, 
 Fve paid enough for her already. 
 An' gin ye tax her or her mither, 
 B' the L — d ! ye'se get them a' thegither. 
 
 And now, remember Mr, A-k-n, 
 Nae kind of licence out Fm takin'; 
 Frae this time forth ^ I do declare^ 
 Tse ne^er ride horse nor hizzie mair* 
 Thro' dirt and dub for life I'll paidle. 
 Ere I sae dear pay for a saddle ; 
 My travel a' on foot Fll shank it, 
 I've sturdy bearers, Gude be thankit.- 
 
 Tkt 
 
^he Kirk and you may taF you that. 
 It puts but little in your pat ; 
 Sae dinna put me in your huke^ 
 Nor for my ten white shillings luke. 
 
 This list wi* my ain han* I wrote it. 
 Day an' date as under notit, 
 Then know all ye whom it concerns, 
 Subscripsi hiuCy ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 Mossgiely February 22dy 1786. 
 EPITAPH 
 
 O.S A 
 
 WAG IN M.^UCHLINE. 
 
 JLjIment 'im Mauchline husbands a', 
 
 He aften did assise ye; 
 For had ye staid whole weeks awa% 
 
 Your wives they ne'er had miss'd ye. 
 
 Ye Mauchline bairns, as on ye pass 
 
 To school in bands thegitherj 
 O tread ye lightly on his gras3> 
 
 Perhaps he was your father. 
 
 F f ON 
 
3^^ 
 ON MISS J. SCOTT, 
 
 OF AYR. 
 
 vJH ! had each Scot of ancient timeS;, 
 Been, Jeany Scott, as thou art, 
 The bravest heart on English ground, 
 Jlad yielded like a coward. 
 
 At a meeting of the Dumfrieshire Volunteers, held to 
 commemorate the anniversary of Rodney's Victo- 
 ry, (April 1 2th, 1782,) Burns was called iipon for 
 a Song, instead qf which he delivered the following 
 lines extempore. 
 
 Instead of a song, boys, I'll give you a toast, 
 Here's the memory of those on the twelfth that we lost; 
 That we lost, did I say, nay, by Heav'n that we found. 
 For their fame it shall last while the world goes round- 
 The next in succession, I'll give you the King, 
 Whoe'er would betray him, on high may he swing; 
 And here's the grand fabric, our free Constitution, 
 As built on the base of the great Revolution; 
 And longer with Politics, not to be cramm'd. 
 Be Anarchy curs'd, and be Tyranny damn'd;' 
 And who wou'd to Liberty e'er prove disloyal, 
 May his son be a hangman, and he his first trial. 
 
 THE 
 
339 
 
 THE LASS THAT MADE THE BED TO ME: 
 
 A SONG. 
 
 W HEN January winds were blawing cauld^ 
 
 As to the uorth I bent my way, 
 The darksome night did me enfauld^ 
 
 I kend na wliere to lodge till day: 
 By my good luck a lass I met, 
 
 Just in the middle of my care. 
 And kindly she did me invite. 
 
 To walk into a chamber fair. 
 
 I bow'd fu' low to this sam' maid, . 
 
 And thank'd her for her courtesie; 
 I bow'd fu' low to this fair maid. 
 
 And bade her make a bed for me : 
 She made the bed both large and wide, 
 
 Wi' her twa white hands she spread it down ; 
 She put the cup to her rosy lip. 
 
 And drank, " Young man, now sleep ye sound.' 
 
 She snatch'd the candle In her hand. 
 And frae my chamber went wi' speed j 
 
 But I call'dher quickly back again. 
 To lay some miair beneath my head. 
 
 A cod she laid beneath my head, 
 And served me with due respect-, 
 
 Fi 2 Syne 
 
340 
 
 Syne to salute her wi* a kiss, 
 I flang my arms about her neck. 
 
 << Haud afFyour hands, young man," said she, 
 
 And dinna sae uncivil be ; 
 Gif ye ha'e ony luve for me, 
 
 wrang na my virginity ! 
 
 Her hair was like the links o' gov/dj 
 
 Her teeth were like the ivory, 
 Her cheeks like lilies dipt in wine, 
 
 The lass that made the bed to me. 
 
 I kiss'd her o'er and o'er again. 
 
 And ay she wist na what to say 5 
 I laid her 'tween me and the wa'. 
 
 The lassie thought na lang till day. 
 Her bosom was the driven snaw, 
 
 Twa drifted heaps sae fair to see. 
 Her limbs the polish'd marble stane. 
 
 The lass that made the bed to me. 
 
 Upon the morrow when we raise, 
 
 1 thank'd her for her courtesie; 
 But ay she sigh'd and cry'd, " Alas! 
 
 <« Alas! young man, ye've ruin'd me.'* 
 I looVd her in her bonny face. 
 
 While the tear stood twinklin' in her e'e j 
 And said, Sweet lassie dinna cry. 
 
 Ye ay shall mak' the bed to me. 
 
 She 
 
341 
 
 She took her mither's holland sheets. 
 
 And made them a' in sarks to mej 
 Blythe and merry may she be, 
 
 The lass that made the bed to me j 
 The braw lass made the bed to me, 
 
 The bonnie lass made the bed to me, 
 I'll ne'er Forsake till the day I die. 
 
 The lass that made the bed to me. 
 
 VERSES 
 
 Written on a window of the Inn at CaRROK. 
 
 W E cam* na hear to view your warks. 
 
 In hopes to be mair wise, 
 But only, lest we gang to hell. 
 
 It may be nae surprise: 
 But whan we tirl'd at your door, 
 
 Your porter dought na hear us; 
 Sae may, shou'd we to helFs yetts come. 
 
 Your billy Satan sair us ! 
 
 F f 3 GLOSSARY. 
 
342 
 
 GLOSSARY. 
 
 THE ch and gh have always the guttural found. The found of 
 the Engliih diphthong oo^ is commonly fpelled ou. The French 
 'tii SL found which often occurs in the Scottifh language, is mark- 
 ed oo, or ui. The a in genuine Scottifh words, except when form- 
 ing a diphthong, or followed by an e mute after a fingle confo-~ 
 Kant, founds generally like the broad Engliih a in -vjalL The 
 Scottifh diphthong ae, always, and ea, very often, found like the 
 French e mafculine. The Scottifb diphthong ey, founds like the 
 Latin ei. 
 
 I 
 
 A>,all 
 Aback, away, aloof 
 Abeigh, at a fliy diftance 
 Aboon, above, up 
 Abread, abroad, in fight 
 Ae, one 
 
 Aff, off; Affleofy unpremeditated 
 Afore, before 
 Aft, eft 
 Aften, often 
 
 Agley, off the right line, wrong 
 Aiblins, perhaps 
 A In, own 
 Alrn, iron 
 Aith, an oath 
 Aits, cats 
 
 Aiver, an old horfe 
 Aizle, a hot cinder 
 A k wart, awkward 
 Alake, alas 
 Alane, alone - 
 Amaift, almofl 
 Amang, among 
 An', and, if 
 Ance, once 
 Ane, one, an 
 Anither, another 
 Artfu', artful 
 Afe, afhes 
 
 Aiteer, abroad, flirrlng 
 Aught, eight, pofielHon, as hi c^ 
 yny ait^ht^ in all my polTeffion. 
 
 Auld^ old 
 
 Auld farran, or auld farrant, fa- 
 
 gaclous, cunning, prudent 
 Ava', at all 
 Av^^a', away 
 Awfu', awful 
 Awn, the beard of barley, oats^ 
 
 &c. 
 Awnie, bearded 
 Ayont, beyond 
 B. 
 
 BA', ball 
 Backllns coming, corning 
 
 back, returning 
 Bad, did bid 
 Bade, endured, did flay 
 Baggie, the belly 
 Bainie, having large bones, flout 
 Bairn, a child 
 Bairntime, a family of children,. 
 
 a brood 
 Baith, both 
 Bane, bone 
 Bang, an effort 
 Bardie, diminutive of bard 
 Barefit, barefooted 
 Barket, barked 
 Barkin, barking 
 Barmie, of, or like barm 
 Bafhfu', bafliful 
 Batch, a crew, a gang 
 Batts, bots 
 
 Baiic^ % 
 
343 
 
 Baudrons, a cat 
 
 Bauk, a crofs beam ; Bauken\ the 
 
 end of a beam 
 Bauld, bold; Baidy, boldly 
 BawPnt, having a white ftripe 
 
 down the face 
 Be, to let he, to give over, to ceafe 
 Beaftie, dimin. of beaft 
 Beet, to add fuel to fire 
 Befa', to befall^ 
 Behint, or behin% behind 
 Belly-fu% belly full 
 Belyve, by'and by 
 Ben, into iht /pence or parlour 
 Benlomond, a noted mountain 
 
 in Dumbartonfhire 
 Beuk, a book 
 Be't, be it 
 
 Bethankit, the grace after meat 
 Bicker, a kind of wooden dilh, 
 
 a fhort race 
 Biel, or bield, fhelter 
 Bien, wealthy, plentiful 
 Big, to build ; Bigget, builded 
 Biggen, building, a houfe 
 Bill, a bull 
 
 Billie, a brother, a young fellow 
 Bing, a heap of grain, potatoes, 
 
 &c. 
 Birkie, a clever fellow 
 Birring, the noife of partridges 
 
 &c. when they fpring 
 Bit, crifis, nick of time 
 Bizz, a buille, to bu«z 
 Blaltie, a fhrivelleddwarf,a term 
 
 of contempt 
 Blaftit, blailed 
 Blate, balhful, fheepifh 
 Blather, bladder 
 Blaud, a flat piece of any thing; 
 
 to flap 
 Blaw, to blow, boaft 
 Bleatin, bleating 
 Bleezing, blazing 
 Bleffin, bleirmg 
 
 Blether, to talk idly; nonfenfe 
 Bleth'ren, talking idly 
 Blink, a little while, a fmiling 
 
 look ; to look kindly, to fhine 
 by fits 
 
 Blinker, a term of contempt 
 
 Blinkin, fmirkin 
 
 Bluegown, one of thofe beggars 
 who get annually, on the 
 king's birth-day, a blue cloak 
 or gown with a badge 
 
 Bluid, blood ; JBhddy^ bloody 
 
 Blufht, did blufh 
 
 Blype, a (hred, a large piece 
 
 Bock, to vomit, to gulh inter- 
 mittently 
 
 Bocked, gufhed, vomited 
 
 Bodle, a fmall old coin 
 
 Bonnie, or bonny, handfome, 
 beautiful 
 
 Bonnilie, handfomely, beautiful- 
 
 ^^ 
 Bonnock, a kind of thick cake 
 
 of bread 
 Boord, a boa.rd 
 
 Boortree, the Ihrub elder, plant- 
 ed much of old in hedges of 
 barn-yards, <Scc. 
 Booft, behoved, mufl needs 
 Botch, an angry tumor 
 Bother, to pother 
 Bow-kail, cabbage 
 Bow^'t, bended, crooked 
 Brachens, fern 
 Brae, a declivity, a precipice, the 
 
 flope of a hill 
 Braid, broad 
 Braik, a kind of harrow 
 Braindge, to run rafhly forward 
 Braind'gt, reeled forward 
 Brak, broke, made infolvent 
 Branks, a kind of wooden curb 
 
 for horfcs 
 Bralh, a fudden illnefs 
 Brats, coarfe cloaths, rags 
 Brattle, a Ihort race, hurry, fury- 
 Bra w, fine, handfome 
 Brawly, or l.rawlie, very well, 
 
 finely, heartily 
 Brawnie, flout, brawny 
 Braxie, a morkin (heep, &c. 
 
 Breakin> 
 
344 
 
 Breakin, breaking 
 
 Breallle, dimtn. of breaft 
 
 Breaftit, did fpring up or for- 
 ward 
 
 Breathin, breathing 
 
 Breef, an invulnerable or irrefift- 
 ible fpell 
 
 Breeks, breeches 
 
 Brewin, brewing 
 
 Brie, juice, liquid 
 
 Brig, a bridge 
 
 Brifkec, the breaft, the bofom 
 
 Brither, a brother 
 
 Brogue, a hum, a trick 
 
 Broo, broth, liquid, water 
 
 Brooie, a race at country wed- 
 dings, who (hall firll reach the 
 bridegroom's houfe, on re- 
 turning from church 
 
 Brngh, a burgh 
 
 Bruilzie, a broil, a combuftion 
 
 Brunftane, brimftone 
 
 Brunt, did bUVn 
 
 Bruft, to burft 
 
 Buckfkin, an inhabitant of Vir- 
 ginia 
 
 Buirdly, ftout-made, broad-built 
 
 Bum-clock, a humming beetle 
 that flies in the fummer even- 
 ings 
 
 Bummin, humming as bees 
 
 Bummler, a blunderer 
 
 Bummlin, to blunder 
 
 Bure, did bear 
 
 Burn, water, a rivulet 
 
 Burnewin, i. c» burn the tutndy a 
 blackfmith 
 
 Burnie, cJimin. of burn 
 
 Bufkit, drefled 
 
 Bufle, a buflle; to buftle 
 
 But, without 
 
 But an' ben, the country kitchen 
 
 and parlour 
 By himfelf, lunatic, diftracSled 
 Byre, a cow-ltable 
 C. 
 
 CA', to call, to name, to drive 
 Cadger, a carrier 
 
 Cadie, or caddie, a perfon, a 
 young fellow 
 
 Caff, chaff 
 
 Caird, a tinker 
 
 Cairn, a loofe heap of ftones 
 
 Calf-ward, a fmall inclofure for 
 calves 
 
 Callan, a boy 
 
 Caller, frefh, found 
 
 Cam, did come 
 
 Canna, cannot 
 
 Cannie, gentle, mild, dextrous 
 
 Cannilie, dextroufly, >gently 
 
 Cantharidian, made of cantha- 
 rides 
 
 Cantie, or canty, chearful, mer-* 
 
 ^ry ^ 
 
 Cantraip, a charm, a fpell 
 
 Cap-ftane, cop-ftone, key-ftone 
 
 Careerin, chearfully 
 - Careflin, carelling 
 
 Carlin, a ftout old woman 
 
 Carry in, carrying 
 
 Cartes, cards 
 
 Ca't or ca'd, called, driven, calv- 
 ed 
 
 Cauld, cold 
 
 Caup, a wooden drinking veffel 
 
 Chanter, a part of a bagpipe 
 
 Chantin, chanting 
 
 Chap, a perfon, a fellow, a blow 
 
 Chearfu', chearful 
 
 Cheekit, cheeked 
 
 Cheep, a chirp; to chirp 
 
 Chiel, or cheel, a young fellow 
 
 Chlmla, or chimlie, a fire-grate 
 
 Chimla-lug, the fire-fide 
 
 Chittering, fhivering, trembling 
 
 Chockin, chocking , 
 
 Chow, to chew; cheek for choiVf 
 fide by fide 
 
 Chuffie, fat-faced 
 
 Clachan, a fmall village about a 
 
 church, a hamlet 
 Claife or claes, clothes 
 Claith, cloth, claithingy clothings 
 Clap, clapper of a mill 
 Clarkct, wrote 
 
 Clafh, 
 
345 
 
 Clafh, an idle tale the ftory of 
 
 the day 
 Clatter, to tell little idle ftories; 
 
 an idle ftory 
 Claut, to clean, to fcrapc 
 Clauted, fcraped 
 Claw, to fcratch 
 Cleed, to clothe 
 Cllnkin, jerking, clinking 
 Clinkumbell, who rings the 
 
 church bell 
 Clips, (heers 
 
 Clifhmaclaver, idle convcrfation 
 Clock, to hatch ; a beetle 
 Clockin, hatching 
 Cloot, the hoof of a cow, fheep, 
 
 &c. 
 Clootie, an old name for the de- 
 vil 
 Clour, a bunip or fwelling after 
 
 a blow 
 Coaxin, wheedling 
 Coble, a fifhing boat 
 Cog, a wooden difh 
 Coggie, dirnm, of cog 
 COILA, from Kyle, a dif>ria 
 
 of Ayrfhire, fo called, faith 
 
 tradition, from Coil or Coilus, 
 
 a Pidifh monarch 
 Collie, a general, and fome- 
 
 times a particular name for 
 
 country curs 
 ComiR, coming 
 Commaun, command 
 Cood, the cud 
 Coof, a blockhead, a ninny 
 Cookit, appeared and difappear- 
 
 ed by fits 
 Cooft, did caft 
 Cootie, wooden kitchen difh, al- 
 
 fo thcfe fowls, luhofe legs are clad 
 
 -with feather s^ arcfaidto he cootie 
 Core, corps, party, clan 
 Cor n't, fed with oats 
 Cotter, the inhabitant of a coh 
 
 boufe or cottage 
 Couthie, kind, loving 
 Cove, a cave 
 Cowe, to terrify, to keep under, 
 
 to lop ; a fright, a branch of 
 
 furze, broom, &c. 
 Cowp, to barter, to tumble over; 
 
 a gang 
 Cowpit, tumbled 
 Cowrin, cov/ering 
 Cowte, a colt 
 Cozie,fnug; cozily. fnugly 
 Crabbit, crabbed, fretful 
 Crack, converiationj to con* 
 
 verfe 
 Crackin, converfing 
 Craft or croft, a field near a 
 
 houfe, in old hufbnndry 
 Crambo-clink, or crambo-jingle, 
 
 rhymes, doggrel verfes 
 Crank, the noife of an ungreaf- 
 
 ed wheel 
 Crankous, fretful, captious 
 Cranreuch, the hoar froft 
 Crap, a crop, to top 
 Craw, a crow of a cock, a rook 
 Creel, a baflcet ; to have one's wit 
 
 in a creel, to be craz'd, to be 
 
 fafcinatcd 
 Creepin, creeping 
 Creefhie, greafy 
 
 Cronie, crony, an old acquaint- 
 ance 
 Crood or croud, to coo as a 
 
 dove 
 Croon, a hollow continued 
 
 moan; to make a noife like 
 
 the continued roar of a bull> 
 
 to hum a tune 
 Crooning, humming 
 Crouchie, crook-backed 
 Croufe, chearful, courageous 
 Croufly, chearfully, courage- 
 
 oufly 
 Crowd letime, breakfaftime, 
 Crowlln, crawlin 
 Crump, hard and brittle, fpoken 
 
 of bread 
 Crunt, a blow on the head with 
 
 a cudgel 
 Crufhin, crufhing, crufht, crufh- 
 
 ed 
 Cuif, a blockhead, a ninny 
 
 Cummock, 
 
345 
 
 Gummock, a fhort ftaff with a 
 
 crooked head 
 Gurchie;, a courtefy 
 Curler, a player at ice 
 Curlie, curled, whofe hair falls 
 
 naturally in ringlets 
 Curling, a well known game on 
 
 ice 
 Curmurring, murmurring, a 
 
 flight rumbling noife 
 Curpin, the crupper 
 Culhatjthe dove or wood pigeon: 
 D. 
 
 DADDIE, a father 
 Dafhn, merriment, fool- 
 
 iihnefs 
 Daft, merry, giddy, foollih 
 Daimen, rare, now and then ; 
 
 daimen-kker, an ear of corn now 
 
 and then 
 Dainty, pleafant, goodhumaur- 
 
 ed, agreeable 
 Dancin, dancing 
 Dappl't, dappled 
 Darklins, darkling 
 Daud, to thrafh; to abufe 
 Daur, to dare, daur't^ dared 
 Daurg or daurk, a day's labour 
 Dawd, a large piece 
 Dawtit or dawtet, fondled, 
 
 carefTed 
 Dearies, dmin, of dears 
 Dearthfu', dear 
 Deave, to deafen 
 Deil-ma-care I no matter! for 
 
 all that I 
 Deleerit, delirious 
 Delvin, delving 
 Defcrive, to defcribe 
 Defervin, defer ving 
 Devle, a flunning blow 
 Dight, to M^pe, to clean corn 
 
 from chaff; cleaned from 
 
 chaff 
 DimpFt, dimpled 
 Ding, to wxrft, to pufh 
 Dinna, do not 
 Dirl, a flight tremulous ftroke 
 
 or pain 
 
 Dlfrefpecket, difrefpea^d 
 Dizzen, or diz'n, a dozen 
 Dizzie, dizzy, giddy 
 Doited, flupified, hebetated 
 Dolcfu', doleful 
 Dolt, flupified, crazed 
 Donfie, unlucky 
 Dool> forrow ; to fwg doolfto \zi^ 
 
 ment, to mourn 
 Dorty, faucy, nice 
 Douce or doufe, fober, wife> 
 
 prudent 
 Doucely, foberly, prudently 
 Dought was or w^ere able 
 Doure, flout, durable, ftubbom 
 
 fullen < 
 
 Dow, am or are able, to can 
 Dov/ff, pithlefs, wanting force 
 Dowie, worn with grief, fa-^ 
 
 tigue, &c. 
 Downa, am or are not able, can*- 
 
 not 
 Dcylt, flupid 
 Drap, a drop; to drop 
 Drapping, droppin 
 Dreadfu', dreadful 
 Dreep, to ooze, to drop 
 Dreeping, oozing, dropping . 
 Dribble, drizzling, Hayer 
 Driegh, flow 
 Drift^a drove 
 Drinkin, drinking 
 Droddum, the breech 
 Droop-rumpl't tliat^ droops at 
 
 the crupper 
 Drouth, thirft, drought 
 Drucken, drunken 
 Drumbly, muddy 
 Drummock, meal atid water 
 
 mixed raw 
 Drunt, pet, four humour 
 Dry in, drying 
 Dub, a fmall pond 
 Duddie, ragged 
 Duds, rags, clothes 
 Dung, worfled, pufhed, driven- 
 Dufh, to pufh as a rami &c. 
 Dulht, pufhed by a ram, ox^ 
 
 &c. 
 
 |i 
 
347 
 
 E'E, the eye, een, the eyes 
 E'enin, evening 
 Eerie, frighted, dreading fplrits 
 Eild, old age 
 Elbuck, the elbow 
 Eldritch, ghaftly, frightful 
 En', end 
 
 Enbrugh, Edinburgh 
 Eneugh, enough 
 Enfuin, Enfuing 
 Efpeclal, efpecially 
 Eydent> diligent 
 F. 
 
 FA% fall, lot; to fall 
 Fac't, faced 
 Faddoni*t, fathomed 
 Fae, a foe 
 Faern, foam 
 
 Fairin, a fairing, a prefent 
 Faithfu', faithful 
 Fallow, fellow- 
 Fan d, did find 
 Fareweel, farewel 
 Farl, a cake of bread 
 Fafh, trouble, care; to trouble, 
 
 to care for 
 Fafh*t, troubled 
 Faftern-een, Fallens Even 
 •Fathrals, fatt'rils, ribbon ends, 
 
 &c. 
 Fauld, a fold; to fold 
 Faulding, folding 
 
 Faut, fault 
 
 Fawfont, decent, feemly 
 
 Fearfu', frightful 
 
 Fear't, frighted 
 
 Feat, neat, fpruce 
 
 Fecht, to fight; fechtln^ fighting 
 
 Feckfu', large, brawny, ftout 
 
 Fecklefs, puny, weak, iilly 
 
 Feg, a fig 
 
 Feide, feud, enmity 
 
 Fell, keen, biting: the flefh im- 
 mediatetjnmder the fkin; a 
 field pretty level on the fide 
 or top of a hill 
 
 Fend, to live comfortably 
 
 Ferlie or fcrly, to wonder: a 
 
 wonder, a term of contempt 
 Fetch, to pull by fits 
 Fetch't, pulled, intermittently 
 Fidge, to fidget 
 Fidgin, fidgeting 
 Fient, fiend, a petty oath 
 Fier, found, healthy; a brother, 
 
 a friend 
 Fifie, to make a rufiling noife, 
 
 to fidget; a buftle 
 Fit, a foot 
 
 Fittie-lan', the near horfe of the 
 
 hindmofi: pair in the plough. 
 
 Fizz, to make a hifling noife, 
 
 like fermentation 
 Flainen, flannel 
 Flattering flattering 
 Fleech, to fupplicate in a flat- 
 tering tnanner 
 Fleechin, fupplicating 
 Fleefli, a fleece 
 Fleg, a kick, a random blow 
 Flether, to decoy by fair words 
 Fietherin, flattering 
 Fley, to fcare, to frighten 
 Fley'd, frighted, ftared, 
 Fiichter, to flutter as young nejl" 
 
 lings -when their dam approaches 
 Fhchterin, fluttering 
 Flinders, fherds, broken pieces 
 Fllngin-tree, a piece of timber 
 hung by way of partition be- 
 tween two horfes in a fl^able^ 
 a flail 
 Fliflc, to fret at the yoke 
 Fliflcit, fretted 
 Flitter, to vibrate like the wings 
 
 of fmall birds 
 Flittering, fluttering, vibrating 
 Flunk ie, ? fervant in livery 
 Fly in, flying 
 Foamin, foaming 
 Foord, a ford 
 Forbears, forefathers 
 Forbye, be fides 
 Forfairn, diitrefled, worn out, 
 
 jaded 
 Forgether, to meet, to encount- 
 er with 
 
 Forgi- , 
 
348 
 
 Forgie, to forgive 
 
 Forjefeet, jaded with fatigue 
 
 Formin, forming 
 
 Fou', full, drunk 
 
 Foughten, troubled, harafled 
 
 Fow, a bufhel, &c. 
 
 Frae, from 
 
 Freaths froath 
 
 Frien', friend 
 
 Fu% full 
 
 Fud, the fcut of the hare, coney, 
 
 &c 
 FuiF, to blow intermittently 
 Fuff't, did blow 
 Funnie, full of merriment 
 Fur, a furrow 
 Furm, a form, bench 
 Fyfteen, fifteen 
 Fyke ; trifling cares; to piddle, 
 
 to be in a fufs about trifles 
 Fyle, to foil, to dirtie 
 Fyl't, foiled, dirtied 
 G. 
 
 GAB, the mouth, to fpeak 
 boldly or pertly 
 Gae, to go, gaed, went, gaen or 
 
 g'an€, gone, gaun, going 
 Gael or gate, way, manner, road 
 Gang, to go, to walk 
 Gar, to make, to force to 
 Gar't, forced to 
 Garten, a garter 
 Gafti, wife, fagacious, talkative; 
 
 to converfe 
 Galhin, converfmg 
 Gate, way, manner 
 Gatherin, gathering 
 Gaucy, jolly, large 
 Gear, riches, goods of any kind 
 Geek, to tofs the head in wan- 
 
 tonnefs or fcorn 
 Ged, a pike 
 Gentles, great folks 
 Geordie, a guinea 
 Get, a child, a young one 
 Gie, to give, Giedy gave, GUeny 
 
 given 
 Giftie, dimin* of gift 
 Gillie, ^i/wm. of gill 
 
 Gimmcr, a ewe from one to 
 two years old 
 
 Gin, if, againft 
 
 Gipfey, a young girl 
 
 Girn, to grin, to tvyift the fea- 
 tures in rage, agony, &c, 
 
 Girning, grining 
 
 Gizz, a periwig 
 
 Ghaifl:, a ghoft 
 
 Glaikit, inattentive, foolifh 
 
 Glaizie, glittering, fmooth, like 
 a glafs 
 
 Gleg, fharp, ready 
 
 Gley, a fquint; to fquint. A- 
 glej, off at a fide, wrong 
 
 Glib gabbet, that fpeaks fmooth- 
 ly and readily 
 
 Glint, to peep ; Glinted, peeped ; 
 Glintin, peeping 
 
 Gloamin, the twilight 
 
 Glowr, to flare, to look; a flare> 
 a look 
 
 Glowr'd, looked, flared 
 
 Glowring, flaring 
 
 Glunch, a frown ; to frown 
 
 Go wan, the flower of the daifyi 
 . dandelion, hawkweed, &c. 
 
 Gowd, gold 
 
 GowfF, the game of golf;' to 
 flrike as the bat does the ball at golf 
 
 Gowff'M, flruck 
 
 Gowk, a cuckoo, a term of con- 
 tempt 
 
 Gowl to howl 
 
 Gowling, hov/ling 
 
 Gracefu', graceful 
 
 Grain'd, groaned 
 
 Graining, groaning 
 
 Graip. a pronged inflrument 
 for cleaning flables 
 
 Graith, accoutrements, furni* 
 ture, drefs 3L 
 
 Grane or grain, a groan; toj 
 groan 
 
 Grannie, a grandmother 
 
 Grope, to grope, grapit, groped 
 
 Great, intimate, familiar 
 
 Gratefu', grateful 
 
 Gree, to agree, to bear the gree, 
 to 
 
349 
 
 to be decidedly victor 
 
 Greet, to flied tears, to weep 
 
 Greetin, crying, weeping 
 
 Gree't, agreed 
 
 Grievin, grieving 
 
 Grippet, c«atched, feized 
 
 Grifsle, griftle 
 
 Groat, to get the ivhijlk of one's 
 ^roat, to play a lofing game 
 
 Groufome, loathfomely, grim 
 
 GrOzet, a goofeberry 
 
 Gruniph, a grunt; to grunt 
 
 Grumphie, a fow 
 
 Grun', ground 
 
 Gruntle, the phiz, a grunting 
 noife 
 
 Grunftane, a grindflone 
 
 GruIhie,thick,of thriving growth 
 
 GuDE, the Supreme Being; 
 good 
 
 Guid, good; Guid nwrnin^ good 
 morrow; Guid een, good even- 
 ing 
 
 Guidfather, guidmother, father- 
 in-law and mother-in-law 
 
 Guidman d.nd guidwifey the maf- 
 ter and miftrels of the houfe; 
 T'oung guidman, a man newly 
 lYlarried 
 
 Gully or gullie, a large knife 
 
 Gumlie, muddy 
 
 Gully, tafteful 
 
 H. 
 
 HA%hall 
 Ha' bible, the great bible 
 that lies in the hall 
 
 Kae, to have 
 
 Haet, fient haety a petty oath of 
 negation, nothing 
 
 Haffet, the temple, the fide of 
 the head 
 
 Hafflins, nearly half, partly 
 
 Hag, a fear or gulf in moffes and 
 moors 
 
 Haggis, a kind of pudding boil- 
 ed in the flomach of a cow or 
 Iheep ^ 
 
 Hain, to fpare, to fave, hain'd, 
 Ipared 
 
 G 
 
 Hairfl, harveft 
 
 Haith, a petty oath 
 
 Hal' or hald, an abiding place 
 
 Hale, whole, tight, healthy 
 
 Hallan, a particular partition 
 
 wall in a cottage 
 Hame, home, Hameward, home- 
 ward 
 Hamely, homely, affable 
 Han' or haun', hand 
 Hap, an outer garment, mantle, 
 plaid, &c. to wrap, to cover, 
 to hap 
 Happing, hopping 
 Hap-ftep-an-lowp,hop,lkip, and 
 
 leap 
 Happer, a hopper 
 Harkit, hearkened 
 Halh, a fot 
 Kaflit, haflened 
 Haud, to hold 
 Haughs, low-lying, rich lands, 
 
 valiies 
 Haurl, to drag, to peel 
 Haurlin, peeling 
 Haverel, a half-witted perfon; 
 
 half'witted 
 Havins, good manners, deco- 
 
 rum^ good fenfe 
 Hawkie, a cow, properly one loUh 
 
 a -white face 
 Healfome, healthful, wholefomc 
 Hean, had, the participle 
 Heapit, heaped 
 Hearfe, hoarfe 
 Hear't, hear it 
 Heather, heath 
 Hech! ph! flrange 
 Heclit, to foretel fomething that 
 is to be got or given ; foretold; 
 the thing foretold 
 Heeze, to elevate, to raife 
 Heiim, the rudder or helm 
 Herd, to ttnd flocks; one tv^lio 
 
 tends flocks 
 Herfel, herielf 
 Herrin, a herring 
 Herry, to plunder, mofi properly 
 
 to plunder birds nejls* 
 g Hcrry- 
 
3S'<=> 
 
 Herrytnent, plundering, devajl- 
 
 ation 
 Het, hot 
 
 Heugh, a crag, a coal-pit 
 Hilch, to hobble, to halt 
 Ililchin, halting 
 Himfel, himfelf 
 Hing, to hang 
 Hirple, to walkcrazily, to creep ; 
 
 Hirplin^ creeping 
 JlilTel, fo many cattle as one 
 
 perfon can attend 
 Hiftie, dry, chapt, barren 
 Hitch, a loop,; a knot 
 llizzie, hufry,,a young girl 
 Hoddin^ the motion of a fage 
 
 countryman riding on a cart- 
 
 horfe 
 Hog-fcore, a kind of diftance 
 
 line, in curling, drawn acrofs 
 
 the rink 
 Hog-fliouther, a kind of horfe 
 
 play by juftling with the (Iioul- 
 
 der; to juille 
 Hool, outer lldn or cafe 
 Hoolie, flo wly, leifureiy ; Hoolk! 
 
 take leifurel ftop! 
 Hoord, ahoard; to hoard 
 Hoordit, hoarded 
 Horn, a {poon made of }iorn 
 Jlornie, one of the many names 
 
 of the devil 
 Hoft, to cough ; Hofiiny cough* 
 
 Houghmagandie, fornication 
 Houfie, y/w2m. of houfe 
 Jlove, to heave, fwell 
 Hov'd, heaved, fwelied 
 Howdie, a midwife 
 Howe, hollow; a hollow, or 
 
 dell 
 Howe-backet, funk in the back, 
 
 Jpkm cf a horfe, Sec. 
 Howk to dig; Howkit, digged^ 
 
 Ho'cvkvh digging 
 Hoy, to urge ; Hoft, urged 
 Hoyfe, a pull upwards 
 Hoyte, to amble craxily 
 fiughoc, dimn, of Hugh 
 
 Hiirdies, the loins, the crupper 
 
 TMn 
 
 A Icker, an ear of corn 
 ler-oe, a great grandchild 
 Ilk or ilka, each, every 
 Ill-willie, ill-natured, malicioue> 
 
 niggardly 
 Indentin, indenting 
 Ingine, genius, ingenuity 
 Ingle, fire, fire-place 
 Tfe, I fhall or will 
 Ither, other, one another 
 
 J. 
 
 J AD, jade ; alfo a familiar term 
 among country folks for a 
 giddy young girl 
 
 Jauk, to dally, to trifle 
 
 Jaukin, trifling, dallying 
 
 Jaw. coarle raillery ; to pour out, 
 to fpurt, to jerk ^is ivaicr 
 
 Jaup, a jerk of water ; to jerk as 
 agitated water 
 
 Jillet, a jilt, a giddy girl 
 
 Jimp, to jump; llender in the 
 w^aift, handibme 
 
 Jinglin, jingling 
 
 Jink, to dodge, to turn a corner; 
 a fudden turning a corner 
 
 Jinker, that turns quickly, a gay 
 fprightly girl, a w^ag 
 
 JInkin, dodging 
 
 Jirt, a jerk 
 
 Jodteleg, a kind of knife 
 
 Jokin, joking 
 
 Jouk, to ftoop, to bow the head 
 
 Jow, to joiVy a verb which in- 
 cludes both the fwinging mo- 
 tion and pealing found of jl 
 large bell 
 
 Joyfu', joyful 
 
 Jumpin, jumping 
 
 Jumpit, did jump 
 
 Jundie, tojuftle 
 K. 
 
 KAE,adaw 
 Kail, colcwort, % kind of 
 broth 
 
 Kail- 
 
35 r 
 
 Kail-runt, the Hem of the cole- 
 wort 
 Kain, fowls, &:c. paid as rent by 
 
 a farmer 
 Kebbuck, a cheefe 
 Keek, a peep ; to peep 
 Keepit, kept 
 Kelpies, a fort of mifchlevous 
 
 fbirits, faid to haunt fords and 
 
 ferries at -uight, efpecially in , 
 
 ftorms 
 Ken, to know, kcnd or kenfy 
 
 knew 
 Kennin, a fmall matter 
 Ket, a matted hairy fieece of 
 
 wool 
 Klaugh, carking anxiety 
 Kilt, to trufs up the clothes 
 Ximmer, a young girl, a gofllp 
 Kin, kindred 
 Kin', kind 
 King's hood, a certain part of 
 
 the entrails of an ox, &c. 
 Kirn, the harveft fuppGr> a 
 
 churn; to churn 
 Kirfen, to chriften 
 Kift, cheft, a fhop counter 
 Kitchen, any thing that eats 
 
 with bread; to ferve for foup 
 
 gravy, &c. 
 Kittle, to tickle; ticklifli, likely 
 Kittlin, a young cat 
 Kiutlin, cuddling 
 Kiutle, to cuddle 
 Knaggie, like taa^s or points of 
 
 rocks 
 Knappin hammer, a hammer 
 
 for breaking ftones 
 Knowe, a fmall round hillock 
 Kye, cows, 
 
 KYLE, a diftria of Ayrfhire 
 Kyte the belly 
 Kythe, to difcover, to fhow 
 
 one's felf 
 
 L. 
 
 LADDIE, dhnin. of lad 
 Laggen, the angle between 
 the fide and bottom of a 
 wooden difh 
 
 G 
 
 Laigh, low 
 
 Lairing, wading, and finking in 
 
 fnow, mud, &:c. 
 Laith, loath 
 
 Laithfu' bafhfal, fheepjfh 
 Lallans, Scottifh language 
 Lamble, dimin. of lamb 
 Lampit, a kind of fhell-fifh 
 Lan', land, ellate 
 Lane, lone, my lune, thylanC) &c« 
 
 myfelf a-lone, &c. thyfelf a- 
 
 lone, &c. 
 Lanely, lonely 
 Lang, long, to think lang^io long,- 
 
 to weary 
 Lap, did leap ' 
 Lapfu', lapful 
 Laugh in, laughing 
 Lave, the reft, the remainder, 
 
 the others 
 Laverock, the lark 
 Lawfu*, lawful 
 Lawlan, Lowland; Lallans^ 
 
 Scottish dialedl 
 Lea'e, to leave 
 Leal, loyal, true, faithful 
 Lear, pronounce lare, learning 
 Leedang, live-long 
 Leeze me, a^ phrafe of congra- 
 tulatory endearment 
 Leiftcr, a three pronged dart for 
 
 ftriking fifh 
 Leugh, did laugh 
 Leuk, a look, to look • 
 Lightly, fneeringly, to fneer at 
 Lilt, a ballad, a tune, to fmg 
 Limp't, limp'd, hobbeled 
 Limmer, a kept miftrefsi a 
 
 ftrumpet 
 Link, to trip along 
 Linkin, tripping 
 Linn, a waterfall 
 Lint, flax, lint t the lell, flax in 
 
 flower 
 Lintwhite, a linnet 
 Livin, living 
 
 Loan, the place of milking 
 Loof, the palm of the hand 
 Looves, plural cf loof 
 g a. Loot 
 
2,S^ 
 
 Loot, did let 
 
 Loun, a fellow, a rugamuffin, 
 
 a woman of eafy virtue 
 Lowe, a flame 
 Lowin, flaming 
 Lowfe, to loofe 
 Lowf'd loofed 
 
 Lowrle, ahbrevlathn of Lawrence 
 Lug, the ear, a handle 
 Lugget, having a handle 
 Luggie, a Xmall wooden difh 
 
 with a handle 
 Lum, the chimney 
 Lunch, a large piece of cheefe, 
 
 fiefh, &c. 
 Lunt, a column of fmokej to 
 
 fmoke 
 Luntin, fmokin 
 
 Lyart, of a mixed colour, grey 
 M. 
 
 MAE, more 
 Mak, to make; m-^kinj 
 making 
 
 Mair, more 
 
 Maifl, rnoft, moflly 
 
 Maiftly, moftly 
 
 Mallie, Molly . 
 
 ^Mang, among 
 
 Manteele, a mantle 
 
 Mark, marks,, this and feveral o- 
 iher nouns, -which, in EngUjh, re- 
 quire an s to form the plural, are 
 in Scots like the -words fheep, deer, 
 the fame in both numbers 
 
 Mar's year, the Rebellion, A. 
 D. 1715 
 
 Mallilum, meflin, mixed corn 
 
 Malk, to nidiihiasmalt, &c. 
 
 Malkin-pat, a tea-pot 
 
 Maun, mull: 
 
 Maukin, a hare 
 
 Mavis, the thruili 
 
 Maw, to mow; mawin, mowing 
 
 Meere, a mare 
 
 Melancholious, mournful 
 
 Mell, to meddle 
 
 Melvie, to foil with meal 
 
 Men', to amend 
 
 Menfe, good manners, decorum 
 
 Menfelefs, ill-bred, inide, impu- 
 dent 
 
 MefQn, a fmall dog 
 
 Middin, a dunghill 
 
 Middin-hole, a gutter at the 
 bottom of the dunghill 
 
 Mimj prim, affecTtediy, meek 
 
 Min', mind, remembrance 
 
 Mindfu', mindful 
 
 Miiid't, mind it, refolved, in- 
 tending 
 
 Minnie, mother, dam 
 
 Mifca', to abufe, to call names 
 
 Mifca'd, abufed 
 
 Miflear'd, mifchievous, unman- 
 nerly 
 
 Mifleuk, miflook 
 
 Mither, a mother 
 
 Mixtie-maxtie, confufedly mix- 
 ed 
 
 MoilyJabour 
 
 Moiftify, to moiilen 
 
 Moop, to nibble as a fheep 
 
 Moorian, of or belonging to 
 moors 
 
 Monie, or mony, many 
 
 Morn, the next day, to-morrow 
 
 Mottie, full of motes 
 
 Mou, the mouth 
 
 Moudiewort, a mole 
 
 Mournfu% mournful 
 
 Moufie, dimin, of moufe 
 
 Muckle, much, big, great 
 
 Mufie, dimin. of mufe 
 
 Muflin-kail, broth compofed 
 fimply of water, Ihelled bar- 
 ley and greens 
 
 Mutchkin, an Englilh pint 
 
 Myfel, myfelf 
 
 N. 
 
 NA, no, not, nor 
 Nae, no, not, any 
 Naething, or naithing, nothing 
 Naig, a horfe 
 Nane, none 
 Neebor, a neighbour 
 Needfu', needful 
 Negleckit, negledled 
 Ncuk, nook 
 
 Nieft, 
 
353 
 
 Nleft, next 
 
 Ni .^ve, the fill; 
 
 Nifveful, handful 
 
 Niger, a negro 
 
 Niffer, an exchange; to ex- 
 
 . change, to barter 
 Nine-tailed cat, a hangman's 
 
 whip 
 Nit, a nut 
 Norland, of or belonging to the 
 
 North 
 Nor-weft, North-weft 
 Notic't, noticed 
 Nowte, black cattle 
 Q. 
 
 0>, of ^ 
 Obfervin, obferving 
 Ony, or onie, any 
 Or, is often ufedfor ere, before 
 O't, of it 
 
 Ourie, ihivering, drooping 
 Ourfel, or ourfels, ourfelves 
 Outler, not houfed 
 Ovyre, over, too 
 Owre-hip, a way of fetching a 
 blow with a hammer over the 
 arm 
 
 P. 
 
 PACK, intimate, familiar; 
 twelve ftones of wool 
 Painch, paunch 
 Paitrick, a partridge 
 Pang, to cram 
 Parritch, oatmeal pudding, a 
 
 well known Scotch difh 
 Pat, did put; a pot 
 Pattle, or pettle, a ploughftafF 
 Paukie, cunning, % 
 Paughty, proud, haughty 
 Pay't, paid, beat 
 Pech, to fetch the breath fhort, 
 
 as in an ajlhma 
 Pechan, the crop, the ftomach 
 Peelin, peeling 
 Penfivelie, perJively 
 Pettle, to cherifh ; a pIoughflaiF 
 Pet, a domellicated fheep, &;c. 
 Phraife, fair fpeeches; fiattery; 
 
 to flatter 
 
 Phrai fin, flattery 
 
 Pickle, a fnuill quantity 
 
 Pine, pain, uneafinefs 
 
 Pit, to put 
 
 Placad, a public proclaraatloa 
 
 Plack, an old Scotch coin 
 
 Placklefs, penny lefs 
 
 Platie, dimin, of plate 
 
 Plew or plough, a plow 
 
 Plilkie, a trick 
 
 Plumpit, did plump 
 
 Poortith, poverty 
 
 Pou, to pull 
 
 Pouk, to pluck 
 
 Poufie, a hare or cat 
 
 Pou't, did pull 
 
 Pout, a poult, a chicken 
 
 Pouthery, like powder 
 
 Pow, the head, the ficuU 
 
 Pownie, a little horfe 
 
 Powther orpouther, powder 
 
 Prayin, praying 
 
 Preen, a pin 
 
 Prent, printing 
 
 Pridefu', proud, faucy 
 
 Prie, to tafte 
 
 Prie'd, tailed 
 
 Priefj proof 
 
 Prig, to cheapen, to difpute 
 
 Priggin, cheapening 
 
 Primfie, demure, precife 
 
 Propone, to lay down, to pro- 
 pofe 
 
 Provefes, provofts 
 
 Pry in, prying 
 
 Puddin, pudding 
 
 Pund, pound, pounds 
 
 Pyle, a pyle o' caff^ a fingle grain 
 of chaff 
 
 QUAK, to quake 
 Quakin, quaking 
 Quat, to quit 
 
 Quey, a cow from one year to 
 two years old 
 R. 
 
 RAGWEED, the plant rag- 
 wort 
 Raible, to rattle nonfenfe 
 g 3 Rair; 
 
354 
 
 Rair, to roar; mrV, roared; 
 
 rairlngy roaring 
 Raize, to madden, to inflame 
 Ramblin, rambling 
 Rfimfeezled, fatigued, over- 
 
 fpread 
 Ram-jftam, forward, thoughtlefs 
 Rantin, ranting 
 Rarely, excellent, very well 
 Rafh, a rufh; rajh hifs^ a bufh of 
 
 rafhes 
 Rattlin, rattling 
 Ratton, a rat 
 
 Raucle, rafli, ftout, fearlefs 
 Raught, reached 
 Raw, a row 
 Rax, to ftretch 
 Ream, cream 
 Receivin, receiving 
 Reck, to heed 
 Rede, counfel, to counfel 
 Red-wud, flark-mad 
 Ree, half-drunk, fuddled 
 Reek, fmoke; to fmoke; reekin, 
 
 fmoking; r^cH/, fmoked, fmo- 
 
 >y 
 
 Reeftit, ftood reilive, ftunted, 
 
 withered 
 Refus't, refufed 
 Remarkin, remarking 
 Remead, remedy 
 Requite, requitted 
 Reil, to Hand rellive 
 Reftricked, reftridled 
 Rhymin, rhyming 
 Ridin, riding 
 Rig, a ridge 
 Rin, to run, to melt; running 
 
 running 
 Rink, the courfe of the ftones, 
 
 a term in curling 
 Ripp, a handful of unthrefhed 
 
 corn, &c. 
 Rilkit, made a noife like the 
 
 tearing of roots 
 Rives, tears, breaks 
 Roamin, roaming 
 Rood ftands likewife for the plural 
 
 roods 
 
 Roon, a fhred 
 
 Roofe, to praife, to commend 
 
 Roun% round, in the circle of 
 neighbourhood 
 
 Roupet, hoarfe as with a cold 
 
 Row, to roll, to wrap 
 
 Row't, rolled, wrapped 
 
 Rowte, to low, to bellow 
 
 Rowth, plenty 
 
 Rowtin, lowing 
 
 Rozet, rofin 
 
 Rung, a cudgel 
 
 Runkrd, wrinkled 
 
 Runt, the flem of cokwort ox- 
 cabbage 
 
 Rufiiin, ruilling 
 S. 
 
 SAE, fo 
 ^ Saft, foft 
 Sair, to ferve, a fore 
 Sairly, or fairlie, forely 
 Sair 't, ferve d 
 Sang, a fong 
 Sark, a fhirt 
 
 Sarkit, provided in fhirts 
 Saugh, the v/illow 
 Saul, foul 
 Saumout, falmon 
 Saunt, a faint 
 Saut, fait; fauted, falted 
 Saw, to fow . 
 Sawin, fowing 
 Sax, fix 
 Scar, to fcare 
 Scaud> to fcald 
 Scauld, to fcold; fcaulding^ fcoM- 
 
 ing 
 Scaur, apt to be feared 
 Scawl, a fcold 
 Scone, a kind of bread 
 Sconner, a lothingi to lothe 
 Scornfu', fcornful 
 Scraich, to fcream as a hen^ fav" 
 
 iridgey &c. 
 Scraichin, fcreaming 
 Screech in, fcreeching 
 Screed, to tear; a rent 
 Scrieve, to glide fwiftly along 
 Scrievin; gleefomely, fwiftly 
 
 Scrimp, 
 
35S 
 
 Scrimp, to fcantj fcrmpety did 
 fcant, fcanty 
 
 See'd, didfee 
 
 Seizin, feizing 
 
 Sel, felf; a bod/sfel, one^s felf a- 
 lone 
 
 SelPt, did fell 
 
 Sen', to fend; fen't, fend it 
 
 Servan', fervant 
 
 Sets, feis off, goes away 
 
 Settlin, fettling; to get a fettlirij 
 to be frighted into quietnefs 
 
 Shaird, a flired, a Ihard 
 
 Shangan, a ftick cleft at one end 
 for putting the tail of a dog, 
 &c. into, by way of mifchief, 
 or to frighten him away 
 
 Shaver, a humorous wag, a bar- 
 ber 
 
 Shawj to fhow; a fmall wood 
 in a hollow place 
 
 Sheen, bright, fhining 
 
 Sheep fhank, to think one' s felf nae 
 Jbeep Jh.mk, to be conceited 
 
 Sherra-moor, Sheriff-moor, the 
 famous battle fought hi Jje Mel- 
 lion, A. D. 1 715. 
 
 Sheugh, a ditch, a trench 
 
 Shill, fhriil 
 
 Shog, a Ihock 
 
 Shool, a fhovel 
 
 Shoon, fhoes 
 
 Shootin, ihooting 
 
 Shore, to oifer, to threaten 
 
 Shor'd, offered 
 
 Shouther, fhoulder 
 
 Sic, fuch 
 
 Sicker, lure, fteady 
 
 Sidelins, lidelong, flanting 
 
 Siller, filver, money 
 
 Simmer, fummer 
 
 Sin, a Ion 
 
 Sin', fmce 
 
 Sinfu', fmful 
 
 Sinkin' finking, 
 
 Sittin, fitting 
 
 Skaith, to damage, to injure, in- 
 jury 
 
 Skelp, to ftrike, to Hap, to walk 
 
 with a fmart tripping flep; a 
 fmart flroke 
 Skelpin, ftappin, walking fmart- 
 
 ^y . 
 
 Skelpi-limmer, a technical term 
 in female fcolding 
 
 Skiegh, proud, nice, high-met- 
 tled 
 
 Skirling, fhrieking, crying 
 
 Skirl, to fhriek, to cry fhrilly 
 
 Skirling, fhrieking 
 
 Skiri't, fhrieked 
 
 Sklent, flant ; to run aflant, to 
 deviate from truth 
 
 Sklented, ran or hit in an ob- 
 lique direcflion 
 
 Sklentin, flanting 
 
 Skreigh, a fcream; to fcream 
 
 Slade, did Hide 
 
 Slae, floe 
 
 Slap, a gate, a breach in a fence 
 
 Slaw, flow 
 
 Slee, fly; J!eej9, flyeft 
 
 Sieekit, fieek 
 
 Sliddery, fiippery 
 
 Slype, to fall over, as a ivet fur* 
 row from the plough 
 
 Slypet, fell 
 
 Sma', fmall 
 
 Smeddum, dull, powder; met- 
 tle, fenfe 
 
 Smiddy, fmithy 
 
 Smoor, to fmother; fmoor'^d^ 
 fmothered 
 
 Smoutie, fmuttie, obfcene, ugly 
 
 Smytrie, a numerous coUecStioii 
 of fmall individuals 
 
 Snafh, abufe, Biliinfgate 
 
 Snaw, fnow; to Inow 
 
 Snaw-broo, melted fnow 
 
 Snawie, fnowie 
 
 Sned, to lop, to cut off 
 
 Sneefhin, fnuff; fnecjhin-ml!f 
 fnuff box 
 
 Snell, bitter, biting 
 
 Snick, drawing, trick-contriving 
 
 Snick, the latchet of a door 
 
 Snool, one whofe fpirit is brok- 
 en with opprelfive Havcry; 
 to 
 
3S^ 
 
 to fubmit tamely, to fneak 
 Snoove, to go fmoothly and con- 
 
 ftantly, to fncak 
 Snoov't, went fmoothly 
 Snowk, to fcent or ihuff, as a dogy 
 
 horfe, &c. 
 Snowkit, fcented, fnuffed 
 Sobbin, fobbing 
 Sonlie, having fweet, engaging 
 
 looks ; lucky> jolly 
 Soom, to fwim 
 Sooth, truth, a petty oath 
 Souple, flexible, fwift 
 Sourer, a fhoemaker 
 Sowp, a fpocnful, a fmall quan- 
 tity of any thing liquid 
 South, to try over a tune, with 
 
 a low whiftle 
 Sowther, folder; to folder, to 
 
 cement 
 Spae, to prophefy, to divine 
 Spairge, to dafh, to foil as -with 
 
 mire 
 Spak, did fpeak 
 Sparin, fparing 
 Spaul, a limb 
 Spaviet, having the fpavin 
 Speakin, fpeaking 
 Speat, a fweeping torrent after 
 
 rain or thaw 
 Speel, climb 
 
 Spence, the country parlour 
 Spier, to alk, to inquire 
 Spier't, inquired 
 Spitefu', fpiteful 
 Splatter, a fplutter; to fputter 
 Spleuchan, a tobacco-pouch 
 Splore, a frolic, a riot, a noife 
 Sportin, fporting 
 Sprattle, to fcramble 
 SprecklM, fpotted, fpeckled 
 Spring, a quick air in mufic, a 
 
 Scottifh reel 
 Springin, fprijiging 
 Sprit, a tough-rooted plant 
 
 fomething like rufhes 
 Sprittie, full of fprits ^ 
 Spunk, fire, mettle, wit 
 Spunkic, metllefome, fiery; 
 
 will-o'-wifp, or ignis fatms 
 Squad, a crew, a party 
 Squatter, to flutter in water, as^ 
 
 a -wild duck, &c. 
 Squattle, to fprawl 
 Squeel, a fcream, a fcreech ; to 
 
 fcream 
 Stacher, to ftagger 
 Stack, a rick of corn, hay, ^c, 
 Staggie, dimin, of G.3.g 
 Stampin, ftamping 
 Stan', to fland ; Jla^ did ftand 
 Stane, a ftone 
 
 Stank, a pool of Handing water 
 Stap, flop 
 Stark, ilout 
 Startin, ftarting 
 Startle, to run as cattle Jiang hy the- 
 
 Starvin, llarving 
 
 Staum.rel, halfwitted 
 
 Staw, did Heal to furfeit 
 
 Stech, to cram the belly 
 
 Stechiuj cramming 
 
 Steek, to ihut; a ftitch 
 
 Steer, to molelt, to ftir 
 
 Steeve, firm, compadled 
 
 Stell, a ftill 
 
 Sten, to rear as a horfe 
 
 Sten't, reared 
 
 Stents, tribute, dues of any kind^ 
 
 Stev, ileep ; fleyefi^ fteepeft 
 
 Stibble, fiubble ; ftiUie-rig, the^ 
 
 reaper, in harveft, who takes|^ 
 
 the lead 
 Stick an' flow, totally, altoge-' 
 
 ther 
 
 Stilt, a crutch; to halt, to limpi| 
 Stimpart, the eighth part of a^ 
 
 Winchelter bufliel 
 Stirk, a cow or bullock a year 
 
 old 
 Stock, a plant of colewort, cab- 
 bage, &c. 
 Stockin, Hocking 
 Stoor, founding hollow, llrong 
 
 and hoarfe 
 Stot, an ox 
 Stoup or Ilowp, a kind of 
 
357 
 
 j\ig or difh "With a handle 
 Stoure, dull, more particularly duft 
 
 in motion 
 Stowlins, by flealth 
 Stown, ftolen 
 Strack, did ftrike 
 Strae, draw; io die a fair Jirae 
 
 death, to die in bed 
 Siraik, to ftrcke; ftraikit, flroked 
 Strappan, tall and handfome 
 Straught, ftraight 
 Streek, Aretched, to ftretch; 
 
 flreekit, ftretched 
 St re win, flrewing 
 Striddle, to flraddle 
 Stringin, ftringing 
 Stroan, to fpout, to pifs 
 Stroan't, fpouted, pifled 
 Strunt, fpirituous liquor of any 
 
 kind; to walk llurdily 
 Studdie, an anvil 
 Stuff, corn, or pulfe of any kind 
 Stumpie, di}77in. of flump 
 Sturt, trouble; to moieit 
 Sturtin, frighted 
 Sucker, fugar 
 Sud, Ihould 
 Sugh, the continued rufhing 
 
 noife of wind or water 
 Southron, fouthern, an old 
 
 nanne for the Engliih nation 
 Swaird, fward 
 SwallM, fwelled 
 Swank, Iktely, jolly 
 Swankie or fwanker, a tight 
 
 flrapping young fellow or girl 
 Swap, an exchange, to barter 
 Swat, did fweat 
 Swatch, a fanaple 
 Sweaten, fweating 
 Sweer, lazy, averfe; dead-fweery 
 
 extremely averfe 
 Swervin, fwerving 
 Swinge, to beat, to whip 
 Swingein, beaten, whipping 
 Swirl, a curve, an eddying blall 
 
 or pool, a knot in wood 
 Swirlie, knaggy, full of knots 
 Swith I get away 
 
 Swither, to hefitate in choice; an 
 irrefolute wavering in choice 
 Swoor, fwore, did fwear 
 Syne, fmce ago, then 
 T. 
 
 TAE, a toe: three iae'd, hav- 
 ing three prongs 
 
 Tak, to take; takin^ taking 
 
 Talkin, talking 
 
 Tangle, a fea v^eed 
 
 Tap, the top 
 
 Tapedefs, headlefs, foolifh 
 
 Tarrow, to murmur at one's al- 
 lowance 
 
 Tarrow't, murmured 
 
 Tarry-breeks, a failor 
 
 Tauld, or tald, told. 
 
 Taupie, a foolifh though tlefs 
 young perfon 
 
 Tauted, or tautie, matted to- 
 gether, fpoken of hair or -wool 
 
 Tawie, that allows itfelf peace- 
 ably to be handledjyj'ite of a 
 horfcy CGiv, &.C. 
 
 Tearfu', tearful 
 
 Teat, a fmail quantity 
 
 Ten hours bite, a flight feed to 
 the horfes while in the yoke 
 in the afternoon 
 
 Tent, a field pulpit ; heed, cau- 
 tion; to take heed 
 
 Tentie, heedful, cautious 
 
 Tentlefs, heedlefs 
 
 Teugh, toDgh ; teifghly, toughly 
 
 Thack, thatch; thack an" rape, 
 clothing, necefTaries 
 
 Thae, thefe 
 
 Thairms, fmall guts, fiddlo- 
 ftrings 
 
 Thankfu', thankful 
 
 Thankit, thanked 
 
 Thcgither, together 
 
 Themfel, theniielves 
 
 Thick, intimate, familiar 
 
 Thievelefs, cold, dry, fpltedj 
 fpoken of a perfon s demeanour 
 
 Thinkin, thinking 
 
 Thir, thefe 
 
 Thirl; to thrill 
 
 Thirrd 
 
35^ 
 
 Thirl'd, thrilled, vibrated 
 Thole, to fuffer, to endure 
 I'howe, a thaw, to thaw 
 Thowlefs, flack, lazy 
 Thrang, throng, a crowd 
 Thraw, to fprain, to twift, to 
 
 contradidl 
 Thrawn, fprained, twifled, 
 
 contradi(fled 
 Thrawin, twifling, &c. 
 Threap, to maintain by dint of 
 
 aflertion 
 Threfhin, thrafhlirg 
 Threteen, thirteen 
 Thriftle, thiltle 
 Through, to go on with, to 
 
 make out 
 Throuther, pell-mell, confufedly 
 Thud, to make a loud, inter- 
 mittent noife 
 Thumpin, thumping 
 Thumpit, thumped 
 Thyfel, thyfelf 
 Till't.toit ^ 
 Timmer, tlm^ber; iimler-frofty 
 
 propped with timber 
 Tine, to lofe; tint^ loil 
 Tinkler, a tinker 
 Tip, a ram 
 Tippence, twopence 
 Tirl, to make a flight noife, to 
 
 uncover 
 TIrlin, uncovering 
 Tither, the other 
 Tittle, to whifper 
 Tittlin, whifpering 
 Tocher, marriage-portion 
 Tod, a fox 
 1 oddle, to totter like the walk 
 
 of a child 
 Toddlin, tottering 
 Toom, empty 
 Toop, a ram 
 
 Toun, a hamlet, a farm-houfe 
 Tout, the blaft of a horn or 
 
 trumpet; to blow a horn, &c. 
 Tow, a rop 
 
 Towmond, a twelvemonth- 
 Towzie, rough, fhaggy - 
 
 Toy, a very old falhion of fe- 
 male head-drels 
 
 Toyte, to totter Hke old age 
 
 Tranfmugrify'd, tranfmigrated, 
 metamorphofed 
 
 Trafhtrie, trafh 
 
 Trickle, full of tricks 
 
 Trig, fpruce, neat 
 
 Trimly, excellently 
 
 Trottin, trotting 
 
 Trow, to believe 
 
 Trowth, truth, a petty oath 
 
 Tryin, trying 
 
 Try't, tried 
 
 Tug, raw hide, of -which, in eld 
 iimeSi plottgh traces ivere frequent"- 
 ly made, 
 
 Tuizie, a quarrel; to quarrel, 
 to fi^ht 
 
 Tunefu% tuneful 
 
 Twa, two 
 
 Twa-three, a few 
 
 'Twad, it would 
 
 'Twal, twelve ; T-walpsyime-worth^ . 
 a fmall quantity, a penny- 
 worth 
 
 Twin, to part 
 
 Tyke, a dog 
 
 U. 
 
 UNGO, ftrange, uncouth,. 
 very> very great, prodigiv 
 ous 
 Uncos, news 
 Uncaring, drfregarding. 
 Undoin, undoing 
 Unkenn'd, unknown 
 Unlkaith'd, undamaged, unhurt 
 Upo', upon 
 
 V. 
 
 VAP'RIN, vapouring— 
 Vera, very 
 Virl, a ring round a column, &c» 
 W. 
 
 W A', wall; ^^'5, walls 
 Wabfter, a weaver 
 Wad, would; to bet; a bet, a^ 
 
 pledge 
 Wadna, would not 
 Waeful, woeful 
 
 Waefucks- 
 
359 
 
 Waefucks ! or waes me ! alas ! 
 
 O the pity 
 Waft, the woof 
 Waifu', wailing 
 Wair, to lay out, to expend 
 Wal'd, chofe, chofen 
 Wale, choice; to choofe 
 Walie, ample, large, jolly; alfo 
 
 an interjedlion of diftrefs 
 Wame, the belly; -wamefou^ a 
 
 bellyful ^ 
 T^^anchancie, unluckie 
 Wanreftfu', reftlefs 
 Wark, work 
 • "Wark-lume, a tool to work with 
 Warl, or warld, world 
 Warlock, a wizzard 
 Wariy, worldly, eager on amaf- 
 - fing wealth 
 
 Warran, z. warrant ; to warrant 
 Warft, worft 
 
 Warftl'd or warfiM, weftled 
 Waftrie, prodigality 
 Wat, wet ; iDJat^ I wot, I know 
 Water-brofe, hrofe made of meal 
 and water fimply, without the 
 additions of milk, butter, &c. 
 Wattle, a tv/ig, a wand 
 Wauble, to fwinj?, to reel 
 Waukin, to awake 
 Waukit, thickened, a^ fullers do 
 
 cloth 
 Waur, worfe; to worft 
 'Waurt, worfted 
 Wean or weatiie, a child 
 ' Wearie, or weary; monk aiveary 
 hodyi many a different perfon 
 Weafon, weafand 
 Wee, little; lue^ things, little 
 l' ones; vjee hit, a hn all matter 
 Weel, well; -u'^fZ/izr^, wellfare 
 ' Weet, rain, wetnefs 
 We'fe, we (hall 
 Wha, w^ho 
 Whaizle, to wheeze 
 Whalpit, whelped 
 1 Whang, a leathern ftring, a 
 j^ piece of chcefe, bread, &€. to 
 give the ftrappado 
 
 Whare, w^here ; -whare^er^ where* 
 
 ver 
 Whafe, whofe 
 Wliatreck, neverthelefs 
 Wheep, to fly nimbly, to jerk; 
 femiy-wbeepf fmall beer 
 
 Whid, the motion of a hare 
 running but not frighted; a 
 lie 
 
 Whid din, running a« a hare or 
 coney 
 
 Whirlygigums, ufelefs orna- 
 ments, trifling appendages 
 
 Whlgmeleeries, whims, fancies, 
 crotchets 
 
 Whiflit! fllence! to hold one's 
 iL^hiJhty to be filent 
 
 Whiik, to fweep, to lafh 
 
 Whifkit, laflied 
 
 Whifsle, a whiftle, to whiftle 
 
 Whitter, a hearty draught of li- 
 quor 
 
 Whun-flane, a whin-ftone 
 
 Whyles, whiles, fometimes 
 
 Wi', with 
 
 Wick, to firike a Hone in an ob- 
 liqiie direcl:ion, a t€nn in curling 
 
 Wiel, a fmall whirlpool 
 
 Wifie, a diminutive or endearing 
 term for wife 
 
 Wimple, to meander 
 
 Wimpl^f, meandered 
 
 Wimplin, waving, meandering 
 
 Win, to wind, to winnow 
 
 Win', wind; ivinsy winds 
 
 Wink in, winking 
 
 Winna, will not 
 
 Winnock, a window 
 
 Winfome. gay, hearty, vaunted 
 
 Win't, winded, as a bottom of yarn 
 
 Wintle, a ftaggering motion ; to 
 ftagger, to reel 
 
 Winze, an oath 
 
 Wifs, to wifli 
 
 WIthoutten, without 
 
 WizenM, hide-bound, dryed, 
 ihrunk 
 
 Wonderfu', wonderful, wonder- 
 ful] y 
 
 Wonner, 
 
360 
 
 Wonner, a wonder, a contemp- 
 tuous appellation 
 
 Woo% wool 
 
 Wooer-bab, the garter knotted 
 below the knee v/ith a couple 
 of loops 
 
 Wordy, worthy 
 
 Worfet, worited 
 
 Wrack, to teafe, to vex 
 
 Wraith, a fpirit, a ghoft ; an ap- 
 parition exadlly like a living 
 perfon, whofe appearance is 
 faid to forbode the perfon's 
 approaching death 
 
 Wrang, wrong; to wrong 
 
 Wreeth, a drifted heap of fnow 
 
 Wud-mad, di0fa<5led 
 
 Wumble, a wimble 
 
 Wyliecoat, a flannel veil 
 
 Wy te,' blame i to blarae 
 
 Y. 
 
 YE, this pronoun IS frequenf* 
 ]y ufed for Thou 
 Yealings, born in the fame year, 
 
 coevals 
 Year,, f 5 ufed for both fag. and flur^ 
 
 years 
 Yearns, fmall eagles 
 Yell, barren, that gives no milk 
 Yerk, to lafh, to jerk 
 Yerkit, jerked, lalhed 
 Yeftreen, yeflernight 
 Yja, ale 
 YirS, earth 
 Yokin, yoking, a bout 
 Yont, beyond 
 Yourfel', yourfelf 
 Youthfu', youthful 
 Yowe, a ewe 
 Yowie, dlmm. of yowe 
 Yule, Chrillmas 
 
 Printed hy Chapman Iff Lang^ "> 
 Tronoatcy Glafgoiv* j 
 
 H 18 89_^j| 
 
 J f 4S M 
 

 li 
 
 Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process, f .. 
 Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide 
 Treatment Date: March 2009 
 
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