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THE POEMS 
 
 ROBERT FERGUSSON 
 m 
 
 W TWO PARTS. 
 
 TQ WHICH IS PREFIXED, 
 
 THE LIFE OF THE AUTHOR, 
 
 AND A 
 
 SKETCH OF HIS WRITINGS; 
 
 COPIOUS GLOSSARY ANNEXEP, 
 
 PHILADELPHIA: 
 
 PUBLISHED BY BENJAMIN CHAPMAN 
 
 A. SMAZLj MUSTEK, 
 
 1815. 
 
<»€ 
 
 CLofvw 
 
ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 EVER since Fergusson has been known 
 as a Poet ; his works have been highly esteem- 
 ed by his countrymen ; but since the works of 
 the celebrated Burns have been so universally 
 read and admired, his high encomiums on our 
 author's genius has awakened a desire in the 
 lovers of poetry in general, to be in possession 
 of Fergusson's works ; and the publisher has 
 been often solicited by those who were not na- 
 tives of Scotland, to furnish them with copies 
 of these Poems. In order to render the read- 
 ing of the work easy to those not conversant 
 with the Scottish dialect, he has published the 
 present edition with an ample glossary annex- 
 ed, which has not been done before ; by which 
 means he trusts, that the Poems of Fergusson 
 may now be read, and their beauties enjoyed, 
 with as much facility as those of Burns. 
 
SKETCH OF THE LIFE 
 
 AND WRITINGS 
 
 OF ROBERT FERGUSSON. 
 
 THE Author of these Poems lives now only in 
 the literary world. We would not present them to 
 the Public, did we not think the perusal would give 
 pleasure. Some short account of the life of this juve- 
 nile writer, will not, we hope, be deemed unnecessa- 
 ry ; for every one wishes to know the character of a 
 man whose productions they admire. 
 
 Robert Fergusson was the younger of two sons 
 of William Fergusson, a man of worth, but of hum- 
 ble fortune ; who after serving an apprenticeship to 
 a merchant in Aberdeen, came to Edinburgh in 1746, 
 where he became employed as a clerk to an upholste- 
 rer, and afterwards an accountant in the British Li- 
 nen Company's Bank. Robert was born in Edin- 
 burgh in September 1750; his constitution was, in 
 infancy, very delicate ; however, being sent to school 
 at six years of age, so quick was his improvement 
 in the English language, that in half a year he was 
 sent to the high school, where he studied Latin under 
 
 A 
 
11 
 
 the direction of the late Mr. Gilchrist for four years* 
 In this time, although his health frequently inter- 
 rupted his attendance, he was one of the first scho- 
 lars of his class. He studied two years longer at 
 Dundee. His friends had destined him for the 
 church ; he accordingly, at the age of thirteen, en- 
 tered as a student of St. Andrews University, where 
 he enjoyed a bursary, endowed by a Mr. Fergusson, 
 to be conferred on persons of the same name. At 
 St. Andrews he became conspicuous for the respec- 
 tability of his classical accomplishments* and for 
 those uncommon powers of conversation which in 
 his more advanced years fascinated the associates of 
 Ms convivial hours. It was during his residence at 
 St. Andrews that he first committed the sin of rhyme. 
 His juvenile verses were thought to possess conside- 
 rable merit, and even the professors it is said took 
 particular notice of him. The abilities of young 
 Fergusson secured him the regard of Dr. Wilkie, 
 author of Epigoniad, and at that time professor of 
 natural philosophy in the University of St. Andrews. 
 At the same time, although from the ardour of his 
 genius Fergusson made respectable advances in lite- 
 rature and science, he felt little pleasure in scholas- 
 tic retirement and study : pleasure was his aim ; he 
 was the companion, or rather the leader of every 
 frolic, and satirical attacks on his instructors, were 
 among the first inspirations of his muse. At the 
 end of four years residence in St. Andrews, his bur- 
 sary having expired, and his father having died two 
 years before, Robert resigned all thoughts of pursu* 
 
Ill 
 
 ing the clerical profession, and returned to life mfe 
 ther's house in Edinburgh, without any plan or re- 
 gular prospect of future pursuit. After indulging 
 for a considerable time in vain expectations of ob- 
 taining some employment, he attempted the study of 
 the law. A study the most improper for him, and in 
 which he made little or no progress ; for a genius so 
 lively could not submit to the drudgery of that dry 
 and sedantary profession. Leaving Edinburgh he 
 paid a visit to an uncle at Aberdeen, whose condition 
 in society might have enabled him to procure for his 
 relative some reputable situation. Although a man 
 of considerable opulence, however, Mr. John Forbes 
 received Robert into his house with no higher feel- 
 ings of friendship than the common offices of hospi- 
 tality imply ; and when the unfortunate boy's out- 
 ward appearance became unsuitable to the dignity 
 of Mr. Forbes's household, even that very limited 
 effort of liberality was withdrawn. Fergiisson re- 
 ceived notice that he was not longer a fit guest for 
 his uncle's table j and having written a letter from a 
 petty ale-house in the neighbourhood full of the ar- 
 dent expressions which such an insult extorted from 
 his heart, he set out on foot for Edinburgh, with 
 only a few shillings in his pocket. To a high spirit- 
 ed mind it is not wonderful that such a treatment 
 should have thrown him into a fever. Having, how- 
 ever, recovered from this, his natural animation of 
 spirits returned, 4nd although he was confined to the 
 miserable drudgery of a copying clerk in a public 
 office, he devoted some time to the service of the 
 
muses. His Poems were for the most part published 
 in Ruddiman's Weekly Magazine, anil were received 
 by the people of Edinburgh with rapture as the pro- 
 ductions of a second Allan Ramsay. His poetry 
 soon gained him the society of the witty and the 
 gay, which was still farther extended by his agree- 
 able manners, pleasantry and power of conversation. 
 With the best good nature, with much modesty, and 
 the greatest goodness of heart, he was always 
 sprightly, always entertaining. His powers of song 
 were very great in a double capacity. When seated 
 with some select companions over a bowl, his wit 
 flashed like lightning, struck the hearers irresisibly, 
 and set the table in a roar. These qualifications 
 were his ruin, they led to a train of dissipation that 
 at length ended in lunacy, the immediate cause of 
 which, however, was a fall from a staircase whereby 
 his brain was affected. He died 16th of October 
 177k, in the lunatic asylum at Edinburgh, where not 
 one of the friends or associates of his convivial hours 
 were to be found to alleviate his misery. Robert 
 Burns erected a monument to the memory of Fer- 
 gusson in the jDanongate Church yard, and inscribed 
 on it the following epitaph, 
 
 " No sculptur'd marble here nor pompous lay, 
 
 " No storied urn nor animated bust, 
 iS This simple stone directs pale Scotia's way, 
 
 " To pour her sorrows o'er her poet's dust.*'' 
 
 Had his life been spared to a more mature age. 
 much might have beep expected from his early and 
 
ardent genius. To attempt a character of the works 
 of this youthful bard, would be equally vain as diffi- 
 cult. No colours but his own could paint it to the 
 life; and who in his line of composition can even 
 draw the sketch ? — His talent for versification in the 
 Scots dialect has been exceeded by none, — equalled 
 by few. The subjects he chose were generally un- 
 common, often temporary. His images and senti- 
 ments were lively and striking, which he had a knack 
 in clothing with the most agreeable and natural ex- 
 pressions. His compositions embrace the simplicity 
 of Ramsay, and the poetic fire of Burns ; a vein of 
 humour equal to either, and a classic accuracy supe- 
 rior to both. His Farmer's Ingle, is deserving of 
 the highest eulogium. This piece has much of the 
 merit of Ramsay's Gentle Shepherd, it is a simple 
 pleasing characteristic picture of a Scotch country 
 fireside, and I have no doubt but it gave Burns the 
 hint of his exquisite picture of the Cotter's Saturday 
 Night, and with which our author's poem may I 
 think fairly dispute the palm. Fergusson seems to 
 have had a particular taste for the burlesque, and to 
 have cultivated that taste with great success. His 
 Saturday's Expedition, The Canongate Playhouse 
 In Ruins, Auld Reikie, and several other pieces 
 of this description, not forgetting his epistle to Dr« 
 Samuel Johnson, have infinite merit; his epi- 
 logue in the character of an Edinburgh Buck was, 
 when it was written so happily characteristic that it 
 met with prodigious applause. The same may be 
 said of his Last Will, which contains much local 
 
 A £ 
 
VI 
 
 point and humour. His Posthumous Pieces it will 
 be observed are of a very different description from 
 those published in his life time, they embrace sub- 
 jects of despair and horror, and were doubtless writ* 
 ten by him when in that state of religious melancholy 
 which preceded his lunacy. When we consider the 
 beauties of his pieces we think they deserve to be 
 more generally known than they are. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PART I.-ENGLISH POEMS- 
 
 MORNING. A Pastoral - Page 13 
 
 Noon. A Pastoral - * 17 
 
 Night, A Pastoral - 21 
 
 The Complaint. A Pastoral - 25 
 
 The Decay of Friendship. A Pastoral 
 
 Elegy - - 28 
 
 Against repining at Fortune. A Poem 32 
 
 Conscience. An Elegy - 35 
 
 Damon to his Friends. A Ballad - 37 
 
 Retirement - 41 
 
 Ode to Hope - 45 
 
 The Rivers of Scotland. An Ode - 48 
 
 Town and Country contrasted. An Epistle 
 
 to a Friend - - 57 
 
 Ode to Pity - - 60 
 
 On the cold month of April, 1771. A Poem 62 
 
 The Simile - - 65 
 
 The Buggs - - 67 
 
vm 
 
 A Saturday's Expedition. In mock heroics Page 74 
 The Canongate Play-house in Ruins. A bur- 
 lesque Poem - - 81 
 Fashion. A Poem - - 86 
 The Amputation. A burlesque Elegy 90 
 Verses written at the Hermitage of Braid 
 
 near Edinburgh - - 93 
 
 A Tale - - - 95 
 The Peasant* the Hen, and young Ducks. A 
 
 Fable - - 97 
 To the Memory of John Cunningham 100 
 The Delights of Virtue - - 105 
 A Tavern Elegy - - 108 
 Good Eating - - 111 
 Tea. A Poem - - 117 
 The Sow of Feeling - - 121 
 An Expedition to Fife - - 125 
 To Sir John Fileding, on his attempt to sup- 
 press the Beggar's Opera - 131 
 To Dr. Samuel Johnson - 135 
 Character of a Friend - 139 
 Epilogue, spoken by Mr. Wilson in the cha- 
 racter of an Edinburgh Buck - 140 
 Songs - - 143, 145 
 Epitaph on General Wolfe - 146 
 Epigram on the numerous Epitaphs on Gene- 
 ral Wolfe - - ib. 
 On seeing Stanzas addressed to Mrs. Hartley, 
 wherein she is described as resembling 
 Mary Queen of Scots. An Epigram 147 
 Qn£ccJi)g a Lady paint herself. An Epigram ib. 
 
IX 
 
 Extempore Verses on being asked which of 
 
 three sisters was most beautiful Page 148 
 
 On the Death of Mr, Thomas Lancashire, 
 
 comedian. An Epigram - ib. 
 
 Epigram on seeing scales used in a Mason 
 
 Lodge - - 149 
 
 My Last Will - 150 
 
 Codicile - - 154 
 
 . PART IX— SCOTS POEMS. 
 
 Sandie and Willie. An Eclogue - 159 
 Geordie and Davie. An Eclogue to the Me- 
 mory of Professor Wilkie . 165 
 Elegy on the Death of Mr. David Gregory 169 
 The Daft days - - 171 
 The King's Birth-Day in Edinburgh 174 
 Caller Oysters - - 179 
 Braid Claith - - 183 
 Elegy on the Death of Scots Music - 186 
 Hallow-Fair - 190 
 Ode to the Bee - 195 
 On seeing a Butterfly in the Street - 198 
 Ode to the Gowdspink - 201 
 Caller Water - - 205 
 The Sitting of the Session - 209 
 The Rising of the Session - 212 
 Leith Races - 216 
 The Farmer's Ingle - - 22*5 
 
The Election - Page 232 
 To the Tron-kirk Bell - - 239 
 Mutual Complaint of Plainstanes and Cause- 
 way - 242 
 A Drink Eclogue - - 248 
 To the Principal and Professors of the Uni- 
 versity of St. Andrews, on their superb 
 treat to Dr. Johnson - 254 
 Elegy on John Hogg - - 259 
 The Ghaist. A Kirkyard Eclogue - 264 
 To my Auld B reeks - - 271 
 Auld Reikie - - 275 
 Hame Content. A Satire - £89 
 Epistle to Robert Fergusson - 294 
 Answer to the Epistle - - 298 
 
 POSTHUMOUS PIECES... 
 
 Job, Chap. Ill* paraphrased - 506 
 Ode to Horror - - 306 
 Ode to Disappointment - - 309 
 Dirge - - 311 
 Horace, Ode xu Lib. f . - - 313 
 The Author's Life - 31^ 
 Song - - - 315 
 Epigram on a Lawyer's desiring one of 
 the Tribe to look with respect to a Gib- 
 bet - ib. 
 On the Author's inteation of going to sea 316 
 
XI 
 
 Epigram written extempore on a Gentle- 
 man who had a beautiful family of chil- 
 dren - Page 316 
 
 The Vanity of Human Wishes ; an Elegy on 
 the untimely Death of a Scots Poet, by 
 JohnTait * - - 317 
 
 Glossary - </-;-, 321 
 
POEMS 
 
 ON VARIOUS SUBJECTS* 
 
 PART L 
 
 PASTORAL L 
 MORNING- 
 
 DAMON. ALEXIS. 
 DAMOff. 
 
 AURORA now her welcome visit pays, 
 Stern darkness flies before her cheerful rays j 
 Cool circling breezes whirl along the air, 
 And early shepherds to the fields repair; 
 Lead we our flocks, then, to the mountain^ 
 
 brow, 
 Where junipers and thorny brambles grow ; 
 Where founts of water 'midst the daisies spring, 
 And soaring larks and tuneful linnets sing ; 
 
 B 
 
14 
 
 Your pleasing song shall teach our flocks to 
 
 stray, 
 While sounding echoes smoothe the sylvan lay. 
 
 Alex. ? Tis thine to sing the graces of the 
 morn, 
 The zephyr trembling o'er the ripening corn ; 
 'Tis thine with ease to chant the rural lay, 
 While bubbling fountains to your numbers play. 
 No piping swain that treads the verdant field, 
 But to your music and your verse must yield; 
 Sing then — for here we may with safety keep 
 ©ur sportive lambkins on this mossy steep. 
 
 Dam. With ruddy glow the sun adorns the 
 land, 
 The pearly dew-drops on the bushes stand; 
 The lowing oxen from the folds we hear, 
 And snowy flocks upon the hills appear. 
 
 Alex. How sweet the murmurs of the neigh- 
 b'ring rill ! 
 Sweet are the slumbers which its floods distil : 
 Thro' pebbly channels winding as they run, 
 And brilliant sparkling to the rising sun. 
 
 Dam. Behold Edina's lofty turrets rise, 
 Her structures fair adorn the eastern skies; 
 As Pentland cliffs o*ertop yon distant plain, 
 So she the cities on our north domain. 
 
 Alex. Boast not of cities, or their lofty tow'rs, 
 Where discord all her baneful influence pours; 
 
m 
 
 The homely cottage, and the withered tree, 
 With sweet Content, shall be preferred by me« 
 Dam. The hemlock dire shall please th& 
 heifer's taste, 
 Our lands like wild Arabia be waste ; 
 The bee forget to range for winter's food, 
 "Ere I forsake the forest and the flood. 
 
 •ilex. Ye balmy breezes t wave the verdant 
 field; 
 Ulouds ! all your bounties^ all your moisture 
 
 yield ; 
 That fruits and herbage may our farms adorn, 
 And furrowed ridges teem with loaded corn. 
 Dam. The year already hath propitious 
 smiPd, 
 Gentle in spring-time, and in summer mild ; 
 No cutting blasts have hurt my tender dams ? 
 No hoary frosts destroyed my infant lambs. 
 Alex. If Ceres crown with joy tliq bounteous 
 year, 
 A sacred altar to her shrine I'll rear ; 
 A vigorous ram shall bleed, whose curling 
 
 horns, 
 His woolly neck and hardy front adorns. 
 Dam. Teach me, Pan ! to tune the slen- 
 der reed, 
 No favorite ram shall at thine altars bleed j 
 
16 
 
 Each breathing morn thy woodland verse I'll 
 
 sing, 
 And hollow dens shall with the numbers ring. 
 Alex. Apollo, lend me thy celestial lyre, 
 The woods in concert join at thy desire : 
 At morn, at noon, at night, I'll tune the lay, 
 And bid fleet Echo bear the sound away. 
 Dam. Sweet are the breezes, when cool eve 
 
 returns, 
 To lowing herds, when raging Syrius burns j 
 Not half so sweetly winds the breeze along, 
 As does the murmur of your pleasing song. 
 Alex. To hear your strains the cattle spurn 
 
 their food, 
 The feathered songsters leave their tender 
 
 brood ; 
 Around your seat the silent lambs advance, 
 And scrambling he-goats on the mountains 
 
 dance. 
 Dam. But haste, Alexis, reach yon leafy 
 
 shade, 
 Which mantling ivy round the oaks hath made j 
 There we'll retire, and list the warbling note 
 That flows melodious from the blackbird's 
 
 throat ; 
 Your easy numbers shall his songs inspire, 
 And ev'ry warbler join the general choir. 
 
PASTORAL H. 
 NOON. 
 
 CORYDON. TIMANTHES. 
 CORYDON. 
 
 THE sun the summit of his orb hath gained, 
 No fleckered clouds his azure path hath stain'dj 
 Our pregnant ewes around us cease to graze, 
 Stung with the keenness of his sultry rays ; 
 The weary bullock from the yoke is led, 
 And youthful shepherds from the plains are fled 
 To dusky shades, where scarce a glimmering 
 
 ray 
 Can dart its lustre thro 9 the leafy spray. 
 Yon cooliAg rivulet where the waters gleam, 
 Where springing flow'rs adorn the limpid 
 
 stream, 
 Invites us where the drooping willow grows, 
 To guide our flocks, and take a cool repose. 
 
 Tim. To thy advice a grateful ear Pll lend, 
 The shades I'll court where slender osiers bend; 
 Our AVeanlings young shall crop the rising 
 
 flower, 
 While we retire to yonder twining bow'rj 
 
 B £ 
 
18 
 
 The woods shall echo back thy cheerful strains, 
 Admir'd by all our Caledonian swains. 
 
 Cor. There have I oft with gentle Delia 
 stray' d, 
 Amidst th' embowering solitary shade ; 
 Before the gods to thwart my wishes strove^ 
 By blasting ev*ry pleasing glimpse of love : 
 For Delia wanders o'er the Anglian plains, 
 Where civil discord and sedition reigns $ 
 There Scotia's- sons in odious light appear, 
 Tho' we for them have wav'd the hostile spear; 
 For them my sire, enwrapp'd in curdled gore, 
 Breath'd his last moments on a foreign shore. 
 
 Tim. Six lunar months, my friend, will soon 
 expire, 
 And she return to crown your fond desire. 
 For her O rack not your desponding mind S 
 In Delia's breast a gen'rous flame's confin'dy 
 That bums for Corydon, whose piping lay 
 Hath caus'd the tedious moments steal away : 
 Whose strains melodious mov'd the falling 
 
 floods 
 To whisper Delia to the rising woods. 
 O ! if your sighs could aid the floating gales, 
 That favourably swell their lofty sails, 
 Ne'er should your sobs their rapid flight give 
 
 o'er 
 Till Delia's presence grac'd our northern shore. 
 
19 
 
 Cor. Tho' Delia greet my love, I sigh in 
 vain, 
 Such joy unbounded can I ne'er obtain. 
 Her sire a thousand fleeces numbers o'er, 
 And grassy hills increase his milky store ; 
 While the weak fences of a scanty fold 
 Will all my sheep and fattening lambkins hold. 
 Tim. Ah, hapless youth ! although the early 
 muse 
 Painted her semblance on thy youthful brows; 
 Tho' she with laurels twin'd thy temples round, 
 And in thy ear distill' d the magic sound; 
 A cheerless poverty attends thy woes, 
 Your song melodious unrewarded flows. 
 
 Cor. Think not, Timanthes, that for wealth 
 I pine, 
 Tho' all the fates to make me poor combine ; 
 Tay bounding o'er his banks with awful sway, 
 Bore all my corn and all my flocks away. 
 Of Jove's dread precepts did I 'ere complain? 
 'Ere curse the rapid flood or dashing rain? 
 Ev'n now I sigh not for my former store, 
 But wish'd the gods had destined Delia poor. 
 Tim. 'Tis joy, my friend, to think I can re- 
 pay 
 The loss you bore by Autumn's rigid sway : 
 Yon fertile meadow where the daisies spring 
 Shall yearly pasture to your heifers bi^ng ; 
 
20 
 
 Your flock with mine shall on yon mountain 
 feed, 
 
 Cheer ? d by the Warbling of your tuneful reed : 
 
 No more shall Delia's ever-fretful sire 
 
 Against your hopes and ardent love conspire. 
 
 Rous'd by her smiles you'll tune the happy 
 lay, 
 
 While hills responsive waft your songs away. 
 Cor. May plenteous crops your irksome la- 
 bour crown, 
 
 May hoodwinked fortune cease her envious 
 frown ; 
 
 May riches still increase with growing years ; 
 
 Your flocks be numerous as your silver hairs. 
 Tim. But lo! the heat invites us at our ease 
 
 To court the twining shades and cooling breeze ; 
 
 Our languid joints we'll peaceably recline, 
 
 And midst the fiow'rs and opening blossoms 
 dinfe. 
 
PASTORAL III. 
 NIGHT. 
 
 AMYNTAS. FLORELLUS, 
 AMYNTAS. 
 
 WHILE yet grey twilight does his empire 
 
 hold, 
 Drive all our heifers to the peaceful fold; 
 With sullied wing grim darkness soars along, 
 And larks to nightingales resign the song : 
 The weary ploughman flies the waving fields, 
 To taste what fare his humble cottage yields : 
 As bees that daily thro* the meadows roam : 
 Eeed on the sweets they had prepared at home, 
 Flor, The grassy meads that smil'd serene- 
 ly gay, 
 
 Cheer'd by the ever-burning lamp of day ; 
 In dusky hue attir'd, are cramp'd with colds, 
 And springing flowerets shut their crimson folds* 
 Am. What awful silence reigns throughout 
 the shade, 
 The peaceful olive bends his drooping head ; 
 No sound is heard o'er all the gloomy maze, 
 Wide o'er the deep the fiery meteors blaze* 
 
Flor. The west yet titig'd with Soi/s efful- 
 gent ray, 
 With feeble light illumes our homeward way \ 
 The glowing stars with keener lustre burn, 
 While round the earth their glowing axles turn. 
 Am. What migkty power conducts the stars 
 on high ! 
 Who bids these comets thro' our system fly ! 
 Who wafts the lightning to the icy pole ! 
 And thro' our regions bids the thunders roll! 
 Flor. But say, what mightier pow'r from 
 nought could raise 
 The earth, the sun, and all that fiery maze 
 Of distant stars that gild the azure skyv 
 And thro' the void in settled orbits fly ? 
 
 im. That righteous pow'r before whose hea- 
 venly eye 
 The stars are nothing and the planets die ; 
 Whose breath divine supports our mortal frame, 
 Who made the lion wild and lambkin tame. 
 Flor. At his command the bounteous spring 
 returns \. 
 Hot summer, raging o'er th' Atlantic burns ; 
 The yellow autumn crowns our sultry toil ;, 
 And winter's snows prepare the cumb'rous soil. 
 •3m. By him the morning darts his purple 
 ray; 
 To him the birds their early homage pay ; 
 
%3 
 
 "With vocal harmony the meadows ring. 
 While swains in concert heav'nly praises sing, 
 Flor. Sway'd by his word, the nutrient clews 
 descend. 
 And growing pastures to the moisture bend ; 
 The vernal blossoms sip his falling showers; 
 The meads are garnished with his opening flow- 
 ers. 
 Jim. For man, the object of his chiefeat care, 
 Fowls he hath formed to wing the ambient air. 
 For him the steer his lusty neck doth bend; 
 Fishes for him their scaly fins extend. 
 
 Flor, Wide o'er the orient sky the moon 
 appears, 
 A foe to darkness and his idle fears; 
 Around her orb the stars in clusters shine, 
 And distant planets tend her silver shrine. 
 Jim. Hush'd are the busy numbers of the 
 day; 
 On downy couch they sleep their hours away ; 
 Hail, balmy Sleep, that sooths the troubled 
 
 mind! 
 Locked in thy arms our cares a refage find. 
 Oft do you tempt us with delusive dreams, 
 When wild'ring Fancy darts her dazzling 
 
 beams ; 
 Asleep the lover with his mistress strays 
 Thro 9 lonely thickets and untrodden ways, 
 
S4 
 
 But when pale Cynthia's sable empire's fled, 
 And hov'ring slumbers shun the morning bed, 
 Housed by the Dawn, he wakes with frequent 
 
 sigh, 
 And all his flattering visions quickly fly. 
 Flor. Now owls and bats infest the midnight 
 scene, 
 Dire snakes invenem'd twine along the green : 
 Forsook by man the rivers mourning glide, 
 And groaning echoes swell the noisy tide, 
 Straight to our cottage let us bend our way; 
 My drowsy powers confess sleep's magic sway* 
 Easy and calm upon our couch we'll lie, 
 While sweet reviving slumbers round our pil- 
 lows fly. 
 
THE COMPLAINT. 
 
 A PASTORAL, 
 
 NEdR the heart of a fair spreading grove? 
 
 Whose foliage shaded the green, 
 A shepherd, repining at love, 
 
 In anguish was heard to complain. 
 
 Cupid ! tho& wanton young boy ! 
 
 Since* with thy invisible dart* 
 Thou hast robb'd a fond youth of his joy* 
 
 In returff grant the wish of his heart. 
 
 Send a shaft so severe from thy bow 
 (His pining* his sighs to remove*) 
 
 That Stella* once wounded* may know 
 How keen are the arrows of love. 
 
 No swain once so happy as I* 
 
 Nor tun'd with more pleasure the reed ; 
 My breast never vented a sigh* 
 
 Till Stella approached the gay mead. 
 C 
 
26 
 
 With mirth, with contentment endowed. 
 My hours they flew wantonly by ; 
 
 I sought no repose in the wood, 
 
 Nor from my few sheep would I fly. 
 
 Now my reed I have carelessly broke, 
 
 Its melody pleases no more ; 
 I pay no regard to a flock 
 
 That seldom hath wander'd before. 
 
 O Stella ! whose beauty so fair 
 Excels the bright splendor of day, 
 
 Ah ! have you no pity to share 
 With Damon thus fall'n to decay ? 
 
 For you have I quitted the plain, 
 Forsaken my sheep and my fold ; 
 
 For you in dull languor and pain, 
 My tedious moments are told. 
 
 For you have my roses grown pale, 
 They have faded untimely away ; , 
 
 And will not such beauty bewail 
 A shepherd thus falPn to decay? 
 
 Since your eyes still requite me with scorn, 
 And kill with their merciless ray, 
 
S7 
 
 Like a star of the dawning of morn, 
 I fall to their lustre a prey. 
 
 Some swain who, shall mournfully go 
 To whisper love's sigh to the shade, 
 
 Will hap'ly some charity show, 
 And under the turf see me laid. 
 
 Would my love but in pity appear 
 
 On the spot where he moulds my cold grave^ 
 And bedew the green sod with a tear, 
 
 *Tis all the remembrance I crave. 
 
 To the swaird then his visage he turn'd; 
 
 'Twas wan as the lilies in May; 
 Fair Stella may see him inurn'd, 
 
 He hath sigh'd all his sorrows away, 
 
THE DECAY OF FRIENDSHIP. 
 
 A PASTORAL ELEGY. 
 
 WHEN gold, man's sacred deity, did smile, 
 My friends were plenty, and my sorrows few j 
 
 Mirth, love, and bumpers did my hours beguile, 
 And arrowed Cupids round my slumberiflew. 
 
 What shepherd then could boast more happy 
 days? 
 
 My lot was envied by each humbler swain ; 
 Each bard in smooth eulogium sung my praise, 
 
 And Damon listened to the guileful strain. 
 
 Flattery, alluring as the Syren's lay, 
 And as deceitful thy inchanting tongue, 
 
 How have you taught my wavering mind to 
 stray, 
 Charmed and attracted by the baneful song? 
 
 My pleasant cottage, sheltered from the gale, 
 Arose with moss, and rural ivy bound ; 
 
39 
 
 And scarce a floweret in my lowly vale, 
 But was with bees of various colours crown'cL 
 
 Free o'er my lands the neigb'ring flocks could 
 roam; 
 How welcome were the swains and flocks to 
 me! 
 The shepherds kindly were invited home, 
 To chace the hours in merriment and glee* 
 
 To wake emotions in the youthful mind, 
 Strephon with voice melodious tun'd the 
 song ; 
 Each sylvan youth the sounding chorus joined, 
 Fraught with contentment 'midst the festive 
 throng. 
 
 My clustering grapes compens'd their magie 
 skill, 
 The bowl capacious swelPd in purple tide j 
 To shepherds, liberal as the chrystal rill, 
 Spontaneous gurgling from the mountain's 
 side* 
 
 But ah! these youthful sportive hours are fled 5 
 These scenes of jocund mirth are now no 
 more j 
 
 C 2 
 
30 
 
 No healing slumbers 'tend my humble bed, 
 No friends condole the sorrows of the poor. 
 
 And what avail the thoughts of former joy? 
 
 What comfort bring they in the adversfe hour? 
 Can they the canker-worm of care destroy, 
 
 Or brighten fortune's discontented hour? 
 
 He who hath long traveled the fertile plain, 
 Where Nature in its fairest vesture smil'd, 
 
 Will he not cheerless view the fairy scene, 
 When lonely wand' ring o'er the barren wild? 
 
 For now pale Poverty, with haggard eye 
 And rueful aspect, darts her gloomy ray; 
 
 My wonted guests their proffer'd aid deny, 
 And from the paths of Damon steal away. 
 
 Thus when fair Summer's lustre gilds the lawn, 
 When rip'ning blossoms deck the spreading 
 tree, 
 
 The birds with melody salute the dawn, 
 And o'er the daisy hangs the hutnmipg-bee. 
 
 But when the beauties of the circling year 
 In chilling frosts and furious storms decay; 
 
 No more the bees upon the plains appear, 
 No more the warblers hail the infant day. 
 
SI 
 
 To the lone corner of some distant shore, 
 In dreary devious pilgrimage I '11 fly, 
 
 And wander pensive where Deceit no more 
 Shall trace my footsteps with a mortal eye. 
 
 There solitary saunter o'er the beach, 
 
 And to the murmuring surge my griefs dis- 
 close ; 
 There shall my voice in plaintive waitings 
 teach 
 The hollow caverns to resound my woes. 
 
 Sweet are the waters to the parched tongue ; 
 
 Sweet are the blossoms to the wanton bee ; 
 Sweet to the shepherd sounds the lark's shrill 
 song; 
 
 But sweeter far is Solitude to me. 
 
 Adieu, ye fields, where I have fondly stray'd! 
 
 Ye swains, who once the fav'rite Damon 
 knew ! 
 Farewell, ye sharers of my bounty's aid ! 
 
 Ye sons of base Ingratitude, adieu ! 
 
AGAINST REPINING AT FORTUNE. 
 
 THO ? in my narrow bounds of rural toil, 
 No obelisk or splendid column rise ; 
 
 Tho ? partial Fortune still averts her smile, 
 And views my labours with condemning eyes ; 
 
 Yet all the gorgeous vanity of state 
 I can contemplate with a cool disdain ; 
 
 Nor shall the honours of the gay and great 
 E'er wound my bosom with an envious pain. 
 
 Avails it aught the grandeur of their halls, 
 With all the glories of the pencil hung, 
 
 If Truth, fair Truth ! within th> unhallowed 
 walls, 
 Hath never whisper d with her seraph tongue? 
 
 Avails it aught, if music's gentle lay 
 
 Hath oft been echoed by the sounding dome 5 
 
 If music cannot soothe their griefs away, 
 Or change a wretched to a happy home ? 
 
33 
 
 r XW Fortune should invest them with her 
 spoils, 
 
 And banish poverty with look severe, 
 Enlarge their confines, and decrease their toils, 
 
 Ah ! what avails if she increase their care ? 
 
 Tho 9 fickle she disclaim my moss-grown cot, 
 Nature/ thou look'st with more impartial 
 eyes : 
 
 Smile thou, fair goddess ! on my sober lot 5 
 1 11 neither fear her fall; nor court her rise. 
 
 When early larks shall cease the matin .song; 
 
 When Philomel at night resigns her lay ; 
 When melting numbers to the owl belong, 
 
 Then shall the reed be silent in thy praise. 
 
 Can he, who with the tide of Fortune sails, 
 More pleasure from the sweets of Nature 
 share ? 
 
 Do zephyrs waft him more ambrosial gales, 
 Or do his groves a gayer livery wear? 
 
 To me the heav'ns unveil as pure a sky ; 
 
 To me the flowers as rich a bloom disclose ; 
 The morning beams as radiant to my eye, 
 
 And darkness guides me to as sweet repose* 
 
34 
 
 If Luxury their lavish dainties piles, 
 And still attends upon their fated hours, 
 
 Doth Health reward them with her open smiles, 
 Or Exercise enlarge their feeble powers ? 
 
 *Tis not in richest mines of Indian gold, 
 That man this jewel happiness can find, 
 
 If his unfeeling breast, to virtue cold, 
 Denies her entrance to his ruthless mind. 
 
 "Wealth, pomp, and honour are but gaudy toys; 
 
 Alas, how poor the pleasures they impart ! 
 Virtue >s the sacred source of all the joys, 
 
 That claim a lasting mansion in the heart. 
 
CONSCIENCE. An Elegy. 
 
 -Leave her to Heav'n, 
 
 And to the thorns that in her bosom lodge, 
 To prick and sting her. 
 
 Shakespeare, 
 
 NO choiring warblers flutter in the sky ; 
 
 Phoebus no longer holds his radiant sway ; 
 While Nature with a melancholy eye, 
 
 Bemoans the loss of his departed ray. 
 
 O happy he, whose conscience knows no guile ! 
 
 He to the sable night can bid farewell ; 
 From cheerless objects close his eyes awhile, 
 
 Within the silken folds of sleep to dwell. 
 
 Elysian dreams shall hover round his bed, 
 His soul shall wing, on pleasing fancies 
 borne, 
 
 To shining vales where flowerets lift their head, 
 Wak'd by the breathing zephyrs of the morn. 
 
 But wretched he whose foul reproachful deeds 
 Can thro' an angry conscience wound his 
 rest ; 
 
36 
 
 His eye too oft the balmy comfort needs, 
 Tho' Slumber seldom knows him as her 
 
 guest. 
 
 To calm the raging tumults of his soul, 
 If wearied Nature should an hour demand, 
 
 Around his bed the sheeted spectres howl, 
 Red with revenge the grinning furies stand. 
 
 Nor state nor grandeur can his pain allay : 
 Where shall he find a requiem to his woes ? 
 
 Pow*r cannot chace the frightful gloom away, 
 Nor music lull him to a kind repose. 
 
 Where is the king that Conscience fears to 
 chide ? 
 Conscience, that candid judge of right and 
 wrong, 
 Will o'er the secrets of each heart preside, 
 Nor aw'd by pomp, nor tam'd by soothing 
 song. 
 
DAMON TO HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 THE billows of life are suppress 
 Its tumults, its toils disappear, 
 
 To relinquish the storms that are past^ 
 I think on the sunshine that r s near. 
 
 Dame Fortune and I are agreed ; 
 
 Her frowns I no longer endure ; 
 For the goddess has kindly decreed^ 
 
 That Damon no more shall be poor. 
 
 Now riches will ope the dim eyes; 
 
 To view the increase of my store ; 
 And many my friendship will prize 
 
 Who never knew Damon before. 
 
 But those I renounce and abjure^ 
 Who carried contempt in their eye ; 
 
 May poverty still be their dow'r, 
 That could look on misfortune awry ! 
 
 Ye powers that weak ittortals govern, 
 Keep pride at his bay from my mind $ 
 
 
38 
 
 O let me not haughtily learn 
 To despise the few friends that were kind. 
 
 For theirs was a feeling sincere, 
 'Twas free from delusion and art 3 
 
 O may I that friendship revere, 
 And hold it yet dear to my heart ! 
 
 By which was I ever forgot ? 
 
 It was both my physician and cure, 
 That still found the way to my cot, 
 
 Altho' I was wretched and poor : 
 
 *Twas balm to my canker- toothM care ; 
 
 The wound of affliction it heal'd : 
 In distress it was Pity's soft tear, 
 
 And naked cold Poverty's shield. 
 
 Attend, ye kind youth of the plain ! 
 
 Who oft with my sorrows condoPd ; 
 You cannot be deaf to the strain, 
 
 Since Damon is master of gold. 
 
 I have chose a sweet sylvan retreat, 
 Bedeck'd with the beauties of spring 5 
 
 Around my flocks nibble and bleat, 
 While the musical choristers sing. 
 
39 
 
 I force not the waters to stand 
 
 In an artful canal at my door, 
 But a river, at Nature's command, 
 
 Meanders both limpid and pure. 
 
 She's the goddess that darkens my bow'rs 
 With tendrils of ivy and vine ; 
 
 She tutors my shrubs and my flow'rs, 
 Her taste is the standard of mine. 
 
 What a pleasing diversified groupe 
 
 Of trees has she spread o'er my ground I 
 
 She has taught the grave laryx to droop, 
 And the birch to deal odours around. 
 
 For whom has she perfnm'd my groves? 
 
 For whom has she clustered my vine ? 
 If friendship despise my alcoves, 
 
 They'll ne'er be recesses of mine. 
 
 He who tastes his grape juices by stealthy 
 Without chosen companions to share, 
 
 Is the basest of slaves to his wealth, 
 And the pitiful minion of care. 
 
 O come, and with Damon retire 
 
 Amidst the green umbrae embower'd j: 
 
40 
 
 Your mirth and your songs to inspire, 
 Shall the juice of his vintage be pour'd 
 
 come, ye dear friends of his youth ! 
 P Of all his good fortune partake ; 
 Nor think 'tis departing from truth, 
 To say 'twas preserved for your sake, 
 
RETIREMENT, 
 
 COME, Inspiration, from thy vernal bow'r, 
 To thy celestial voice attune the lyre ; 
 
 Smooth gliding strains in sweet pi'ofusion pour? 
 And aid my numbers with seraphic fire. 
 
 Under a lonely spreading oak I lay, 
 My head upon the daisied green reclined, 
 
 The evening sun beam'd forth his parting ray> 
 The foliage bended to the hollow wind. 
 
 There gentle sleep my acting powers supppest^ 
 The city's distant hum was heard no more ; 
 
 Yet Fancy suffered not the mind to rest, 
 Ever obedient to her wakeful pow'iv 
 
 She led me near a chrystal fountain's noise, 
 Where undulating waters sportive play ; 
 
 Where a young comely swain, with pleasing 
 voice, 
 In tender accents sung his sylvan lay. 
 
 u Adieu, ye baneful pleasures of the town ! 
 u Farewell; ye giddy and unthinking throng ! 
 D % 
 
42 
 
 ft Without regret your foibles I disown ; 
 "Themes more exalted claim the Muse's 
 song. 
 
 " Your stouy hearts no social feelings share ; 
 
 "Your souls of distant sorrow's ne'er par- 
 take; 
 "" Ne'er do you listen to the needy pray'r, 
 
 "Nor drop a tear for tender pity's sake. 
 
 "Welcome, ye fields, ye fountains, and ye 
 groves ! 
 " Ye flow'ry meadows, and extensive plains ! 
 " Where soaring warblers pour their plaintive 
 loves, 
 " Each landscape, cheering With their vocal 
 strains. 
 
 "Here rural Beauty rears her pleasing shrine; 
 
 " She on the margin of each -streamlet glows ; 
 "Where, with the blooming hawthorn roses 
 twine, 
 
 " And the fair lily of the valley grows. 
 
 " Here Chastity may wander unassail'd 
 
 ft Thro' fields where gay seducers cease to 
 rove ; 
 
48 
 
 " Where open Vice o'er Virtue near pre vail'd j 
 " Where all is innocence, and all is love. 
 
 " Peace with her olive wand triumphant reigns, 
 " Guarding secure the peasant's humble 
 bed; 
 
 u Envy is banish'd from the happy plains, 
 " And Defamation's busy tongue is laid. 
 
 u Health and Contentment usher in the morn, 
 4 f With jocund smiles they cheer the rural 
 swain, 
 
 a For which the Peer, to pompous titles born, 
 " Forsaken sighs, but all his sighs are vain* 
 
 " For the calm comforts of an easy mind, 
 u In yonder lonely cot delight to dwell, 
 
 u And leave the statesmen for the laboring 
 hind, 
 " The regal palace for the lowly celL 
 
 u Ye, who to Wisdom would devote your 
 hours, 
 u And far from riot, far from discord stray ! 
 u Look back disdainful on the city's tow'rs, 
 " Where Pride, where Folly point the slip- 
 U'ry way. 
 
''Pure flows the limpid stream in phrystal 
 tides, 
 i? Thro' rocks, thro' dens, and ever verdant 
 vales, 
 « Till to the town's unhallow'd wall it glides*. 
 " Where all its purity and lustre fails." 
 

 ODE TO HOPm 
 
 HOPE ! lively cheerer of the mind, 
 In lieu of real bliss designed, 
 Come from thy ever verdant bow'r 
 To chace the dull and lingering hour; 
 O ! bring, attending on thy reign, 
 All thy ideal fairy train, 
 To animate the lifeless clay, 
 And bear my sorrows hence away. 
 
 Hence gloomy featured black Despair, 
 With all thy fraritic furies fly, 
 
 Nor rend my breast with gnawing care*. 
 For Hope in lively garb is nigh ; 
 
 Let pining Discontentment mourn, 
 Let dull ey'd Melancholy grieve. 
 
 Since pleasing hope must reign by turn, 
 And ev'ry bitter thought relieve. 
 
 O smiling hope in adverse hour, 
 I feel thy influencing pow'r : 
 Tho' frowning Fortune fix my lot, 
 In some defenceless lonely eot, 
 
46 
 
 Where Poverty, with empty hands. 
 In pallid meagre aspect stands ; 
 Thou can'st enrobe me, 'midst the great, 
 With all the crimson pomp of state, 
 Where Luxury invites his guests 
 To pall them with his lavish feasts : 
 What cave so dark, what gloom so drear, 
 So black with horror, dead with fear 1 
 But thou can'st dart thy streaming ray, 
 And change close night to open day* 
 
 Health is attendant in thy radiant train, 
 
 Round her the whispering zephyrs gently 
 
 1>%, 
 Behold her gladly tripping o'er the plain, 
 
 Bedeck'd with rural sweets and garlands gay. 
 
 When vital spirits are depressed, 
 And heavy languor clogs the breast, 
 Comforting hope ! 'tis thine to cure, 
 Devoid of Esculapian power ; 
 For oft thy friendly aid avails, 
 When all the strength of physic fails. 
 
 Nay, e'en tho' death should aim his dart^ 
 
 I know he lifts his arm in vain, 
 Since thou this lesson can'st impart, 
 
 Mankind but die to live again. 
 
47 
 
 Deprived of thee must banners fall ; 
 
 But where a living Hope is found. 
 The legions shout at dangers call, 
 
 And victories are triumphant crow'nM. 
 
 Come then, Bright Hope ! in smiles arrayed, 
 Revive us by thy quickening breath, 
 
 Then shall we never be afraid 
 To walk thro' danger and thro' death. 
 
THE 
 
 RIVERS OF SCOTLAND. 
 
 AN ODE. 
 Set to Music by Mr. Collett. 
 
 O'ER Scotia's parch'd land the Naiad's flew. 
 From towering hills explored her sheltered 
 vales, 
 
 Caused Forth in wild meanders please the view, 
 And lift her waters to the zephyrs gales. 
 
 Where the glad swain surveys his fertile fields, 
 And reaps the plenty which his harvest yields. 
 
 Here did these lovely nymphs unseen, 
 
 Oft Wander by the river's side, 
 And oft unbind their tresses green> 
 
 To bathe them in the fluid tide. 
 
 Then to the shady grottos would retire, 
 And sweetly echo to the warbling choir j 
 
49 
 
 Or to the rushing waters tune their shell** 
 To call np echo from the woods, 
 Or from the rocks or crystal floods, 
 
 Or from surrounding banks, or hills, or dales* 
 
 Chorus, 
 
 Or to the rushing waters tune their shells^ 
 To call up echo from the woods, 
 Or from the rocks or crystal floods, 
 
 Or from surrounding banks, or hills, or dales* 
 
 When the cool fountains first their springs for- 
 sook, 
 
 Murmuring smoothly to the afcure main, 
 JSxulting Neptune then his trident shook, 
 
 And wav*d his waters gently to the plain* 
 
 The friendly Tritons on his chariot born, 
 With cheeks dilated blew the hollow-sounding 
 horn. 
 
 Now Lothian arid Fifan shores, 
 Resounding to the mermaid's song* 
 
 Gladly emit their limpid stores, 
 And bid them smoothly sail along 
 
 To Neptune*s empire, arid with him to roll 
 Kound the revolving sphere from ^>ole to pole ; 
 
 E 
 
so 
 
 To guard Britannia from envious foes. 
 To view her angry vengeance hurFd 
 In awful thunder round the world, 
 
 And trembling nations bending to her blows. 
 
 Vhorus. 
 
 To guard Britannia from envious foes, 
 To view her angry vengeance hurFd, 
 In awful thunder round the world, 
 
 And trembling nations bending to her blows. 
 
 High towering on the zephyr's breezy wing, 
 Swift fly the Naiad's from Fortha's shores, 
 
 And to the southern airy mountains bring 
 Their sweet enchantment and their magic 
 powers. 
 
 Each nymph her favourite willow takes, 
 The earth with fev'rous tremour shakes, 
 
 The stagnant lakes obey their call, 
 Streams o'er the grassy pastures fall. 
 
 Tweed spreads her waters to the lucid ray, 
 Upon the dimpled surf the sunbeams play : 
 
 On her green banks the tuneful shepherd lies ; 
 CharmM with the music of his reed. 
 
5i 
 
 Amidst the wavings of the Tweed : 
 From sky-reflecting streams the river nymphs 
 arise . 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 On her green banks the tuneful shepherd lies,, 
 Charmed with the music of his reed, 
 Amidst the wavings of the Tweed : 
 
 From sky-reflecting streams the river nymphs 
 arise. 
 
 The listening muses heard the shepherds play, 
 Fame with her brazen trump proclaimed his 
 name, 
 
 And to attend the easy graceful lay, 
 Pan from Arcadia to Tweda came. 
 
 Fond of the change along the banks he stray'd, 
 
 And sung unmindful of th' Arcadian shade 
 
 AIR, Twee n side. 
 
 I. 
 
 Attend every fanciful swain, 
 
 Whose notes softly flow from the reed, 
 With harmony guide the sweet strain, 
 
 To sing, of the beauties of Tweed. 
 
5% 
 
 II. 
 
 Where the music of woods and of streams, 
 
 In soothing sweet melody join, 
 To enliven your pastoral themes, 
 
 And make human numbers divine. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 XTe warblers from the vocal grove, 
 The tender woodland strain approve, 
 While Tweed in smoother cadence glides, 
 O'er flow'ry vales in gentle tides ; 
 And as she rolls her silver waves along, 
 Murmurs and sighs to quit the rural song. 
 Scotia's great Genius in russet clad, 
 From the cool sedgy bank exalts her head, 
 In joyful rapture she the change espies, 
 Sees living streams descend and groves arise, 
 
 AIR, GlLDEUOYo 
 
 I. 
 
 AS sable clouds at early day 
 
 Oft dim the shining skies, 
 So gloomy thoughts create dismay, 
 
 And lustre leaves her eyes. 
 
S3 
 
 II. 
 
 " Ye powers ! are Scotia's ample fields 
 
 " With so much beauty grac'd, 
 u To have those sweets your bounty yields 
 
 " By foreign foes defaced ? 
 
 III. 
 
 u O Jove ! at whose supreme command 
 
 " The limpid fountains play, 
 u O'er Caledonia's northern land 
 
 " Let restless waters stray. 
 
 IV. 
 
 a Since from the void creation rose,, 
 
 " Thou'st made a sacred vow, 
 u That Caledon to foreign foes 
 
 " Should ne'er be known to bow." 
 
 The mighty Thund'rer on his sapphire throne, 
 In mercy's robes attir'd, heard the sweet voice 
 Of female woe — soft as the moving song 
 Of Philomela 'midst the evening shades ; 
 And thus return'd an answer to her pray'rs : 
 
 " Where birks at nature's call arise ; 
 ?< Where fragrance hails the vaulted skies ;. 
 
 E % 
 
54 
 
 Ci Where iny own oak its umbrage spreads, 
 ?? Delightful 'midst the woody shades ; 
 ** Where ivy mouldering rocks entwines ; 
 "Where breezes bend the lofty pines : 
 " There shall the laughing Naiads stray, 
 " 'Midst the sweet banks of winding Tay." 
 
 From the dark womb of earth Tay's waters 
 spring, 
 
 Ordain'd by Jove's unalterable voice ; 
 The sounding lyre celestial muses string, 
 
 The Choiring songsters in the groves rejoice. 
 
 Each fount its crystal fluids pours, 
 
 Which from surrounding mountains flow : 
 
 The river bathes its verdant shores, 
 Cool o'er the surf the breezes blow. 
 
 Let England's sons extoll their gardens fair, 
 Scotland may freely boast her gen'rous 
 streams, 
 
 Their soil more fertile and their milder air, 
 Her fishes sporting in the solar beams. 
 
 Thames, Humber, Severn, all must yield the 
 
 bay 
 To the pure streams of Forth, of Tweed, and 
 
 Tay. 
 
m 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Thames, Humber, Severn, all must yield the 
 
 bay 
 To the pure streams of Forth, of Twted, and 
 
 Tay. 
 
 O Scotia ! when such beauty claims 
 A mansion near thy flowing streams, 
 Ne'er shall stern Mars, in iron ear, 
 Drive his proud coarsers to the war : 
 But fairy forms shall strew around 
 Their olives on the peaceful ground ; 
 And turtles join the warbling throng, 
 To usher in the morning song. 
 Or shout in chorus all the live-long day, 
 From the green banks of Forth, of Tweed, and 
 Tay. 
 
 When gentle Phoebe's friendly light 
 In silver radiance clothes the night; 
 Still music's ever varying strains 
 Shall tell the lovers, Cynthia reigns ; 
 And woo them to her midnight bowers, 
 Among the fragrant dew-clad flowers, 
 Where ev'ry rock, and hill, and dale, 
 With echoes greet the nightingale, 
 Whose pleasing, soft, pathetic tongue, 
 To kind condolence turns the song $ 
 
56 
 
 And oft wins the love-sick swain to stray 
 To hear the tender variegated lay, 
 Thro 5 the dark woods of Forth, of Tweed, and 
 Tay. 
 
 Hail, native streams, and native groves I 
 Oozy caverns, green alcoves ! 
 Retreats for Cytherea's reign, 
 With all the Graces in her train. 
 Hail, Fancy, thou whose ray so bright 
 Dispels the glimmering taper's light ! 
 Come in aerial vesture blue, 
 Ever pleasing, ever new, 
 In these recesses deign to dwell 
 With me in yonder moss-clad cell : 
 
 Then shall my reed successful tune the lay, 
 In numbers wildly warbling as they stray 
 Thro' the glad banks of Fortha, Tweed, and 
 Tay. 
 
THE 
 
 TOWN.tf COUNTRY CONTRASTED. 
 
 IN AN EPISTLE TO A FRIEND, 
 
 FROM noisy bustle, from contention free. 
 Far from the busy town I careless loll, 
 Not like swain Tityrus, or the bards of old, 
 Under a beechen, venerable shade ; 
 But on a furzy heath, where blooming broom 
 And thorny whins the spacious plains adorn: 
 Here health sits smiling on my youthful brow : 
 For 'ere the sun beams forth his earliest ray, 
 And all the east with yellow radiance crowns j 
 E'ere dame Aurora, from her purple bed, 
 'Grins with her kindling blush to paint the sky, 
 The soaring lark, morn's cheerful harbinger, 
 And linnet joyful flutt'ring from the bush, 
 Stretch their small throats in vocal melody, 
 To hail the dawn, and drowsy sleep exhale 
 From man, frail man ! on downv softness 
 stretch'd. 
 Such pleasing scenes Edina cannot boast ; 
 For there the slothful slumber seal'd mine eyes, 
 
58 
 
 Till nine successive strokes the clock had 
 
 knelPd. 
 There not the lark, but fishwives noisy screams, 
 And inundations plung'd from ten house height, 
 With smell more fragrant than the spicy groves 
 Of Indus , fraught with all her orient stores, 
 Rous'd me from sleep; not sweet refreshing 
 
 sleep, 
 But sleep infested with the burning sting 
 Of bug infernal, who the live-long night 
 With direst suction sipp'd my liquid gore. 
 There gloomy vapours in our zenith reign'd, 
 And fill'd with irksome pestilence the air. 
 There lingering sickness held his feeble court, 
 Rejoicing in the havock he had made ; 
 And Death, grim Death ! with all his ghastly 
 
 train, 
 Watch' d the broke slumbers of Edina^s sons. 
 Hail, rosy health ! thou pleasing antidote 
 'Gainst troubling cares ! all hail, these rural 
 
 fields, 
 Those winding rivulets and verdant shades, 
 Where thou the heav ? n~born Goddess deign'st 
 
 to dwell ! 
 With thee the hind, upon his simple fare, 
 Lives cheerful, and from Heav'n no more de« 
 
 mauds. 
 But ah ! how vast, how terrible the change 
 
59 
 
 With him who night by night in sickness pines ! 
 Him nor his splendid equipage can please, 
 Nor all the pageantry the world can boast 5 
 Nay, not the consolation of his friends 
 Can aught avail : his hours are anguish all, 
 Nor cease till envious death hath closed the 
 scene. 
 But, Carlos, if we court this maid celestial, 
 Whether we thro 9 meandering rivers stray, 
 Or 'midst the city's jarring noise remain, 
 Let temperance, health's blyth concomitant, 
 To our desires and appetites set bounds, 
 Else, cloy'd at last, we surfeit every joy ; 
 Our slackened nerves reject their wonted springs 
 We reap the fruits of our unkindly lusts, 
 And feebly totter to the silent grave. 
 
ODE TO PITY, 
 
 TO what sequestered gloomy shade 
 Hath ever gentle Pity strayed? 
 What brook is water'd from her eyes 
 What gales convey her tender sighs ? 
 Unworthy of her grateful lay, 
 She hath despised the great, the gay 
 Nay all the feelings she imparts 
 Are far estranged from human hearts. 
 
 Ah Pity ! whither wouldst thou fly 
 From human heart, from human eye ? 
 Are desart woods and twilight groves 
 The scenes the sobbing pilgrim loves? 
 If there thou dwelPst, O Pity, say 
 In what lone path you pensive stray* 
 I'll know thee by the lily's hue, 
 Besprinkl'd with the morning's dew : 
 For thou wilt never blush to wear 
 The pallid look and falling tear. 
 
 In broken cadence from thy tongue, 
 Oft have we heard the mournful song | 
 Oft have we viewed the loaded bier 
 Bedew'd with Pity's softest tear. 
 
61 
 
 Her sighs and tears were ne'er deny'd 
 When innocence and virtue died. 
 But in this black and iron age, 
 Where Vice and all his daemons rage> 
 Tho' bells in solemn peals are run g, 
 Tho' dirge in mournful verse is sung ; 
 Soon will the Vain parade be o'er. 
 Their name, their memory no more : 
 Who love and innocence despis'd^ 
 And ev'ry virtue sacrificed. 
 Here Pity, as a statue dumb, 
 Will pay no tribute to the tomb ; 
 Or wake the memory of those 
 Who never felt for others woes. 
 
 Thou mistress of the feeling heart! 
 Thy powers of sympathy impart. 
 If mortals would but fondly prize 
 Thy falling tears, thy passing sighs, 
 Then should wan poverty no more 
 Walk feebly from the rich man's door j 
 Humility should vanquish pride, 
 And vice be drove from virtue's side : 
 Then happiness at length should reign* 
 And golden age begin again. 
 
ox 
 
 THE COLD MONTH OF APRIL, 1771. 
 
 Oh! who can hold a fire in his hand 
 By thinking on the frosty Caucasus; 
 Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite 
 By bare imagination of a feast; 
 Or wallow naked in December's snow, 
 By thinking on fantastic summer's heat. 
 
 Shakes. Rich. II. 
 
 POETS in vain have hail'd the opening spring, 
 In tender aecents woo'd the blooming maid, 
 
 In vain have taught the April birds to wing 
 Their flight thro' fields in verdant hue array'd. 
 
 The muse in ev'ry season taught to sing 
 
 Amidst the desart snows by fancy's powers. 
 
 Can elevated soar, on placid wing, 
 
 To climes where spring her kindest influence 
 showers. 
 
 * 
 
 April, once famous for the zephyr mild 
 For sweets that early in the garden grow 
 
 Say, how converted to this cheerless wild, 
 Hushine with torrents of dissolving snow 
 
 
63 
 
 Nurs'd by the moisture of a gentle shower, 
 Thy foliage oft hath sounded to the breeze ; 
 
 Oft did the choristers melodious pour 
 Their melting numbers thro* the shady trees, 
 
 Fair have I seen thy morn, in smiles arrayed, 
 With crimson blush bepaint the eastern sky; 
 
 But now the dawn creeps mournful o'er the 
 glade, 
 Shrowded in colours of a sable dye* 
 
 So have I seen the fair with laughing eye, 
 And visage cheerful as the smiling morn, 
 
 Alternate changing for the heaving sigh, 
 Or frowning aspect of contemptuous scorn. 
 
 Life ! What art thou ? — a variegated scene 
 Of mingl'd light and shade, of joy and woe; 
 
 A sea where calms and storms promiscuous 
 reign, 
 A stream where sweet and bitter jointly flow, 
 
 Mute are the plains ; the shepherd pipes no 
 more ; 
 
 The reed's forsaken, and the tender flock, 
 While echo, listening to the tempest's roar, 
 
 In silence wanders o'er the beetling rock* 
 
04 
 
 Winter, too potent for the solar ray. 
 
 Bestride the blast, ascends his icy throne, 
 
 And views Britannia, subject to his sway, 
 Floating emergent on the frigid zone. 
 
 Thou savage tyrant of the fretful sky ! 
 
 Wilt thou for ever in our zenith reign ? 
 To Greenland's seas, congeaVd in dullness, fly, 
 
 Where howling monsters tread the bleak do- 
 main. • 
 
 Relent, O Boreas ! leave thy frozen cell ; 
 
 llesign to spring her portion of the year; 
 Let west winds template wave the flowing gale, 
 
 And hills, and vales, and woods a vernal as.* 
 pect wear. 
 
THE SIMILE, 
 
 AT noontide as Colin and ..Sylvia la$ 
 
 Within a cool jessamine bow'r, 
 A butterfly, wak'd by the heat of the day> 
 
 Was sipping the juice of each flow'r. 
 
 Near the shade of this covert a young shepherd 
 boy 
 
 The gaudy brisk flutterer spies, 
 Who held it as pastime to seek and destroy 
 
 Each beautiful insect that flies. 
 
 From the lily he hunted this fly to the rose^ 
 
 From the rose to the lily again, 
 Till weary with tracing its motions, he chose 
 
 To leave the pursuit with disdain. 
 
 Then Colin to Sylvia smilingly said, 
 
 Amyntor has followed you long ; 
 From him, like the butterfly, still have you fled, 
 
 Tko' woo'd by his musical tongue. 
 
 Beware in persisting to start from his arm% 
 But with his fond wishes comply ; 
 F 2 
 
66 
 
 Come, take my advice; or he's pall'd with 
 your charms, 
 Like the youth and the beautiful fly. 
 
 Says Sylvia, — Colin, thy simile's just, 
 
 But still to Amyntor, Pm coy ; 
 For I vow's she's a simpleton blind that would 
 trust 
 
 A swain, when he courts to destroy. 
 
THE BUGS. 
 
 THOU source of song sublime ! thou chiefesfc 
 
 Muse ! 
 Whose sacred fountain of immortal fame 
 Bedew'd the flow'rets eull'd for Homer's brow 
 When he on Grecian plains the battles sung 
 Of frogs and mice : Do thou, thro* Fancy's maze 
 Of sportive pastime, lead a lowly Muse 
 Her rites to join, while, with a fault'ring voice, 
 She sings of reptiles yet in song unknown. 
 Nor you, ye bards ! who oft have struck the 
 lyre, 
 And tun'd it to the movement of the spheres 
 In harmony divine, reproach the lays, 
 Which, tho' they wind not thro 9 the starry host 
 Of bright creation, or on earth delight 
 To hunt the murmuring cadence of the floods, 
 Thro' scenes where Nature, with a hand pro- 
 fuse, 
 Hath lavish strew'd her gems of precious dye; 
 Yet in the small existence of a gnat, 
 Or tiny bug, doth she with equal skill, 
 If not transcending, stamp her wonders there, 
 Only disclosed to microscopic eye, 
 
68 
 
 Of old the dryads near Edina's walls 
 Their mansions rear'd, and groves unnumbered 
 
 rose 
 Of branching oak, spread beech, and lofty pine, 
 Under whose shade, to shun the noontide blaze, 
 Did Pan resort, with all his rural train 
 Of shepherds and of nymphs- — The dryads 
 
 pleas'd 
 Would hail their sports, and summon Echo's 
 
 voice 
 To send her greetings thro' the waving woods ; 
 But the rude axe, long brandished by the hand 
 Of daring innovation, shav'd the lawns ; 
 Then not a thicket or a copse remained 
 To sigh in concert with the breeze of eve. 
 
 Edina's mansions witli lignarian art 
 Were pil'd and fronted. — Like an ark she 
 
 seem'd 
 To lie on mountain's top, with shapes replete, 
 Clean and unclean, that daily wander o'er 
 Her streets, that once were spacious, once were 
 
 gay- 
 
 To Jove the Dryads pray'd, nor pray'd in vain, 
 For vengeance on her sons. — At midnight drear 
 Black show'rs descend, and teeming myriads 
 
 rise 
 Of Bugs abhorrent, who by instinct steal 
 Thro' the diseased and corrosive pores 
 
6i> 
 
 Of sapless trees, that late in forest stood 
 With all the majesty of summer crown'd. 
 By Jove's command dispers'd, they wander 
 
 wide 
 O'er all the city. — Some their cells prepare 
 'Midst the rich trappings and the gay attire 
 Of state luxuriant, and are fond to press 
 The waving canopy's depending folds ; 
 While others, destined to an humbler fate, 
 Seek shelter from the dwellings of the poor, 
 Plying their nightly suction to the* bed 
 Of toil'd mechanic, who, with folded arms, 
 Enjoys the comforts of a sleep so sound, 
 That not th' alarming sting of glutting Bug 
 To murd'rous deed can rouse his brawny arm 
 Upon the blood-swoln fiend, who basely steals 
 Life's genial current from his throbbing veins. 
 Happy were Grandeur, could she triumph 
 
 here, 
 And banish from her halls each misery, 
 Which she must brook in common with the 
 
 poor, 
 Who beg subsistence from her sparing hands > 
 Then might the rich, to fell disease unkuown, 
 Indulge in fond excess, nor ever feel 
 The slowly creeping hours of restless night, 
 When shook with guilty horrors — But the 
 
 WIND, 
 
70 
 
 Whose fretful gusts of anger shake the world, 
 Bear more destructive on th' aspiring roofs 
 Of dome and palace, than on cottage low, 
 That meets jEolus with his gentler breath, 
 When safely sheltered in the peaceful vale. 
 
 Is there a being breathes, however so vile, 
 Too pitiful for Envy? — She, with venoiird 
 
 tooth 
 And grinning madness, frowns upon the bliss 
 Of ev'ry speeies. — From the human form 
 That spurns the earth, and bends his mental eye 
 Thro 9 the profundity of space unknown, 
 Down to the crawling Bug's detested race. 
 | Thus the lover pines, that reptile rude 
 Should 'midst the lilies of fair Chloe's breast 
 implant the deep carnation, and enjoy 
 Those sweets which angel modesty hath scared 
 From eyes profane — Yet murmur not, ye few 
 Who gladly would be Bugs for Chloe's sake ! 
 For soon, alas ! the fluctuating gales 
 Of earthly joy invert the happy scene ; 
 The breath of Spring may, with her balmy 
 
 pow'r, 
 And warmth diffusive, give to Nature's face 
 Her brightest colours — But how short the 
 
 space ! 
 Till angry Eurus, from his petrid cave, 
 Deform the year, and all these sweets annoy. 
 
71 
 
 Ev'n so befals it to this creeping race, 
 This envy'd commonwealth — For they a while 
 On Chloe's bosom, alabaster fair, 
 May steal ambrosial bliss — or may regale 
 On the rich viands of luxurious blood, 
 Delighted and sufficed. But mark the end : 
 Lo ! Whitsuntide appears with gloomy train 
 Of growing desolation* — First, Upholsterer 
 
 rude 
 Removes the waving drapery, where, for years, 
 A thriving colony of old and young 
 Had hid their numbers from the prying day ; 
 Anon they fall, and gladly would retire 
 To safer ambush, but his merc'less foot, 
 Ah, cruel pressure ! cracks their vital springs, 
 And with their deep dyM scarlet smears the 
 
 floor. 
 Sweet pow'rs ! has pity in the female breast 
 No tender residence— no lov'd abode, 
 To urge from murderous deed th' avenging 
 
 hand 
 Of angry house-maid?— She'll have blood for 
 
 blood ! 
 For lo ! the boiling streams from copper tube, 
 Hot as her rage, sweep myriads to death. 
 Their carcases are destin'd to the urn 
 Of some chaste Naiad, that gives birth to 
 
 floods, 
 
Whose fragrant virtues hail Edina, fani'd 
 For yellow limpid — whose chaste name the 
 
 Muse 
 Thinks too exalted to retail in song. 
 
 Ah me ! No longer they at midnight shade, 
 With baneful sting, shall seek the downy couch 
 Of slumbering mortals.— Nor shall love-sick 
 
 swain, 
 When, by the bubbling brook, in fairy dream, 
 His nymph, but half reluctant to his wish, 
 Is gently folded in his eager arms, 
 E'er curse the shaft envenomed, that disturbs 
 His long lovM fancies. — Nor shall hungry 
 
 bar d ? 
 Whose strong imagination, whetted keen, 
 Conveys him to the feast, be tantalized 
 With poisonous tortures, when the cup, brimful 
 Of purple vintage, gives him greater joy 
 Than all the heliconian streams that play 
 And murmur round ParnassuSc Now the 
 
 wretch 
 Oft doomed to restless days and sleepless nights, 
 By bugbear Conscience thralPd, enjoys an hour 
 Of undisturbed repose.— The miser too 
 May brook his golden dreams, nor wake with 
 
 fear 
 That thieves or kindred (for no soul he'll 
 
 trust) 
 
73 
 
 Have broke upon his chest, and strive to stea 
 The shining idols of his useless hours. 
 
 Happy the Bug, whose unambitious views 
 To gilded pomp ne'er tempt him to aspire ; 
 Safely may he, enwrapt in russet fold 
 Of cobwebM curtain, set at bay the fears 
 That still attendant are on Bugs of state : 
 He never knows at morn the busy brush 
 Of scrubbing chambermaids ; his coursing blood 
 Is ne'er obstructed with obnoxious dose 
 By Oliphant prepared — Too pois'nous drug ! 
 As deadly fatal to this crawling tribe 
 As ball and powder to the soils of war. 
 
 G 
 
A SATURDAY'S EXPEDITION. 
 
 IN MOCK HEROICS. 
 
 NOX MIRA, SED YERA, CANAH. 
 
 AT that sweet period of revolving time 
 When Phoebus lingers not in Thetis' lap. 
 When twinkling stars their feeble influence 
 
 shed, 
 And scarcely glimmer thro' th' ethereal vault, 
 Till Sol again his near approach proclaims, 
 With ray purpurea!, and the blushing form 
 Of fair Aurora, goddess of the dawn, 
 Leading the winged coursers to the pole 
 Of Phoebus' car. — 'Twas in that season fair, 
 When jocund Summer did the meads array 
 In Flora's rip'ning bloom — that we prepar'd 
 To break the bonds of business, and to roam 
 Far from Edina's jarring noise a while. 
 
 Fair smil'd the wak'ning morn on our design, 
 And we with joy elate our march began 
 For Leith's fair port, where oft Edina's sons 
 The week conclude, and in carousal quaff 
 
75 
 
 Port, punch, rum, brandy, and Geneva strong, 
 Liquors too nervous for the feeble purse. 
 With all convenient speed we there arrived. 
 Nor had we time to touch at house or hall, 
 Till from the boat a hollow thundering voice 
 Bellowed vociferous, and our ears assaiPd 
 With, " Ho ! Kinghorn, oho ! come straight 
 
 aboard." 
 We faiPd not to obey the stern command, 
 TJtterM with voice as dreadful as the roar 
 Of Polyphemus, 'midst rebounding rocks, 
 When overcome by sage Ulysses' wiles. 
 Ci Hoist up your sails," the angry skipper cries, 
 While fore and aft the busy sailors run, 
 And loose W entangled cordage — O'er the 
 
 deep 
 Zephyrus blows, and hugs our lofty sails, 
 Which, in obedience to the powerful breeze, 
 Swell o'er the foaming main, and kiss the 
 
 wave. 
 Now o'er the convex surface of the flood 
 Precipitate we fly — our foaming prow 
 Divides the saline stream — on either side 
 JLidges of yesty surge dilate apace ; 
 But from the poop the waters gently flow, 
 And undulation for the time decays, 
 In eddies smoothly floating o'er the main. 
 Here let the muse in doleful numbers sing 
 
76 
 
 The woeful fate of those whose cruel stars 
 Have doomed them subject to the languid powers 
 Of wat'ry sickness. — Tho' with stomach full 
 Of juicy beef, of mutton in its prime. 
 Or all the dainties luxury can boast, 
 They brave the elements — yet the rocking bark, 
 Truly regardless of their precious food. 
 Converts their visage to the ghastly pale, 
 And makes the sea partaker of the sweets 
 On which they sumptuous far'd, and this the 
 
 cause 
 Why those of Scotia's sons whose wealthy store 
 Hath blest them with a splendid coach and six, 
 Rather incline to linger on the way, 
 And cross the river Forth by Stirling bridge, 
 Than be subjected to the ocean's swell, 
 To dangerous ferries, and to sickness dire. 
 
 And now at equal distance shews the land; 
 Gladly the tars the joyful task pursue 
 Of gathering in the freight — Debates arise 
 From counterfeited halfpence — In the hold 
 The seamen scrutinize and eager peep 
 Thro 9 ev'ry corner where their watchful eye 
 Suspect a lurking place, or dark retreat, 
 To hide the timid corpse of some poor soul, 
 Whose scanty purse can scarce one groat afford. 
 At length we cheerful land on Fifan shore, 
 Where sickness vanishes, and all the ills 
 
rr 
 
 Attendant on the passage of Kinghorn. 
 Our pallid cheeks resume their rosy hue, 
 And empty stomachs keenly crave supply. 
 With eager step we reached the friendly inn, 
 Nor did vve think of beating our retreat, 
 Till ev'ry gnawing appetite was quell'd. 
 
 Eastward along the Fifan coast we stray ; 
 And here th' unwearied eye may fondly gaze 
 O'er all the tufted groves and pointed spires 
 With which the pleasant banks of Forth are 
 
 erown'd. 
 Sweet navigable stream ! where Commerce 
 
 reigns, 
 Where Peace and jocund Plenty smile serene : 
 On thy green banks sits Liberty enthron'd, 
 But not that shadow which the English youth 
 So eagerly pursue ; but freedom bought, 
 When Caledonia's triumphant sword 
 Taught the proud sons of Anglia to bemoan, 
 Their fate at BannocJcbum, where thousands 
 
 came 
 Never to tread their native soil again. 
 
 Far in a hollow den, where Nature's hand 
 Had careless strewed the rocks — a dreadful 
 
 cave, 
 Whose concave ceiling echoed to the floods 
 Their hollow murmurs en the trembling shore, 
 Demanded our approach. — The yawning porch 
 
 G £ 
 
78 
 
 Its massy sides disclosed, and o'er the top 
 The ivy tendrils twia'd th' uncultur'd fearn : 
 Fearful we pry into the dreary vault, 
 Hoary with age, and breathing noxious damps : 
 Here busy owls may unmolested dwell 
 In solitary gloom — for few there are 
 Whose inclination leads them to review 
 A Cell where putrid smells infectious reign.* 
 Then turning westward, we our course pur- 
 sue 
 Along the verge of Fortha's briny flood, 
 Till we overtake the gradual rising dale 
 Where fair Burntisland rears her reverend 
 
 dome ; 
 And here the vulgar sign-post, painted o'er 
 With imitations vile of man and horse, 
 Of small -beter froathing o'er th' unshapely jug 
 With courteous invitation, spoke us fair 
 To enter in, and taste what precious drops 
 Were there reserved to moisten strangers throats, 
 Too often parch'd upon the tedious way. 
 
 After regaling here with sober cann, 
 Our limbs we plied, and nimbly measured o'er 
 The hills, the vales, and the extensive plains, 
 Which form the distance from Bruntisland's 
 port 
 
 * A large cave at a small distance from King-horn, supposed, 
 about a century ago, to have heen tlie receptacle of thieves. 
 
79 
 
 To Inverkeithing. Westward still we went 
 Till in the ferry-boat we lolPcl at ease ; 
 Nor did we long on Neptune's empire float, 
 For scarce ten posting minutes were elaps'd 
 Till we again on Terra Firma stood, 
 And to McLaren's marclrd, where roasted 
 
 lamb, 
 With cooling lettiee, crownM our social board. 
 Here too the cheating glass, chief foe to cares! 
 Went briskly round ; and many a virgin fair 
 Received our homage in a bumper full. 
 
 Thus having sacrificed a jocund hour, 
 To smiling mirth, we quit the happy scene, 
 And move progressive to Bdina's walls. 
 
 Now still returning eve creep'd gradual on, 
 And the bright sun, as weary of the sky, 
 Beamed forth a languid occidental ray; 
 Whose ruby tinctur'd radiance faintly gleamed 
 Upon the airy cliffs and distant spires, 
 That float on the horizon's utmost verge. 
 So we, with fessive joints and lingering pace, 
 Mov'd slowly on, and did not reach the town 
 Till Phoebus had unyoked his prancing steeds. 
 
 Ye sons of Caledonia ! who delight, 
 With all the pomp and pageantry of state, 
 To roll along in gilded affluence, 
 For one poor moment wean your thoughts from 
 these. 
 
80 
 
 And list this humble strain. — If you, like us, 
 
 Could brave the angry waters, be uprous'd, 
 
 By the first salutation to the morn 
 
 Paid by the watchful cock ; or be compelled 
 
 On foot to wander o'er the lonely plain 
 
 For twenty tedious miles ; then should the gout 
 
 With all his racking pangs forsake your frame : 
 
 For he delights not to traverse the field, 
 
 Or rugged steed, but prides him to recline 
 
 On the luxuriance of a velvet fold, 
 
 Where indolence on purple sopha lolls, 
 
THE 
 
 CANONGATE PLAYHOUSE 
 IN RUINS. 
 
 A BURLESQUE POEM. 
 
 YE few whose feeling hearts are ne'er estranged 
 From soft emotions ! — Ye who often wear 
 The eye of Pity, and often vent her sighs, 
 When sad Melpomene, in woe-fraught strains^ 
 Gains entrance to the breast; or often smile 
 When brisk Thalia gaily trips along 
 Scenes of enlivening mirth, attend my song I 
 And Fancy, thou! whose ever-flaming light 
 Can penetrate into the dark abyss 
 Of chaos and of hell : O ! with thy blazing 
 
 torch 
 The wasteful scenes illumine, that the Muse, 
 With daring pinions, may her flight pursue, 
 Nor with timidity be known to soar 
 O'er the theatric world, to chaos changed. 
 Can I contemplate on those dreary scenes 
 Of raouhPrins desolation, and forbid 
 
82 
 
 The voice elegiac, and the falling tear ! 
 No more from box to box the basket pil'd 
 With oranges as radiant as the spheres, 
 Shall with their luscious virtues charm the 
 
 sense 
 Of taste and smell. No more the gaudy beau, 
 With handkerchief in lavender well drenchM, 
 Or bergamot, or rose of waters pure, 
 With flavoriferous sweets shall chace away 
 The pestilential fumes of vulgar cits, 
 Who, in impatience for the curtain's rise, 
 Amus'd the lingering moments, and apply'd 
 Thirst-quenching porter to their parched lips, 
 
 Alas, how sadly altered is the scene ! 
 For lo! those sacred walls, that late were 
 
 brush'd 
 By rustling silks and waving capuchines, 
 Are now become the sport of Wrinkled Time 1 
 Those walls, that late have echo'd to the voice 
 Of stern King Richard x to the seat transformed 
 Of crawling spiders and detested moths, 
 Who in the lonely crevices reside ; 
 Or gender in the beams, that have upheld 
 Gads, demi-gods, and all the joyous crew 
 Of thund'rers in the galleries above. 
 
 O Shakespeare! where are all thy tinsellM 
 kings, 
 Thy fawning courtiers, and thy waggish clowns? 
 
83 
 
 Where all thy fairies, spirits, witches, fiends, 
 That here have gamboPd in nocturnal sport, 
 Round the lone oak, or sunk in fear away 
 From the shrill summons of the cock at morn? 
 Where now the temples, palaces, and tow'rs ? 
 Where now the groves that ever-verdant smil'd? 
 Where now the streams that never eeas'd to flow? 
 Where now the clouds, the rains, the hails, the 
 
 winds, 
 The thunders, lightnings, and the tempests 
 
 strong ! 
 Here shepherds, lolling in their woven 
 
 bowers, 
 In dull recitativo often sung 
 Their loves, accompanied with clangor strong 
 From horns, from trumpets, clarinets, bassoons; 
 From violinos sharp, or droning bass, 
 Or the brisk tinkling of a harpsichord. 
 
 Such is thy pow'r, O Music ! such thy fame 
 That it has fabled been, how foreign song, 
 Soft issuing from Tenducci's slender throat, 
 Has drawn- a plaudit from the gods enthroned 
 Round the empyreum of Jove himself, 
 High seated on Olympus' airy top. 
 Nay, that his feverous voice was known to 
 
 soothe 
 Tbe shrill ton*d prating of the females' tongues, 
 Who, in obedience to the lifeless song, 
 
84 
 
 All prostrate fell, all fainting dy'd away 
 In silent ecstasies of passing joy. 
 
 Ye who oft wander by the silver light 
 Of sister Luna,— or to church-yard's gloom, 
 Or cypress shades, if Chance should guide 
 
 your steps 
 To this sad mansion, think not that you tread 
 Unconsecrated paths ; for on this ground 
 Have holy streams been pour'd, and flow'rets 
 
 strew'd ; 
 While many a kingly diadem, I ween, 
 Lies useless here entomb'd, with heaps of coin 
 Statnpt in theatric mint: offenceless gold! 
 That carried not persuasion in its hue, 
 To tutor mankind in their evil ways. 
 After a lengthen'd series of years, 
 When the unhallow'd spade shall discompose 
 This mass of earth, then relics shall be found, 
 Which, or for gems of worth, or Roman coins, 
 Well may obtrude on antiquary's eye. 
 Ye spouting blades ! regard this ruin'd fane, 
 And nightly come within those naked walls, 
 To shed the tragic tear. Full many a drop 
 Of precious inspiration have you suck'd 
 From its dramatic sources. O ! look here 
 Upon this roofless and forsaken pile, 
 And stalk in pensive sorrow o'er the ground 
 Where you've beheld so many noble scenes. 
 
80 
 
 Thus, when the mariner to foreign clime 
 His bark conveys, where odoriferous gales, 
 And orange-groves, and love inspiring wine, 
 Have oft repaid his toil ; if earthquake dire, 
 With hollow groanings and convulsive pangs, 
 The ground hath rent, and all those beauties 
 
 foil'd, 
 Will he refrain to shed the grateful drop, 
 A tribute justly due (tho' seldom paid) 
 To the blest memory of happier times ? 
 
 H 
 
FASHION. JL Poem. 
 
 Bred up where discipline most rare is, 
 In Military Garden Paris. 
 
 Htjdibkas* 
 
 O NATURE, parent goddess ! at thy shrine, 
 Prone to the earth, the Muse, in humble song, 
 Thy aid implores : Nor will she wing her flight, 
 Till thou, bright form ! in thy effulgence pure 
 Deign'st to look down upon her lowly state, 
 And shed thy powerful influence benign. 
 
 Come then, regardless of vain Fashion's fools, 
 Of all those vile enormities of shape 
 That croud the world, and with thee bring 
 Wisdom in sober contemplation clad, 
 To lash those bold usurpers from the stage. 
 
 On that bless'd spot where the Parisian dome 
 To fools the stealing hand of Time displays, 
 Fashion her empire holds, a goddess great ! 
 View her amidst the Milleaarian train 
 On a resplendent throne, exalted high, 
 Strangely diversified with gewgaw forms. 
 Her Ivusv brviyl glides pleasnreaM'y o'er 
 
87 
 
 The darling novelties, the trinkets rare, 
 That greet the sight of the admiring dames, 
 Those dear-bought treasures o'er their native 
 
 isle 
 Contagious spread, infect the wholesome air 
 That cherish'd vigour in Britannia's sons. 
 
 Near this proud seat of Fashion's antic form 
 A sphere revolves, on whose bright orb behold 
 The circulating mode of changeful dress, 
 Which, like the image of the sun himself, 
 Glories in coursing thro' the diverse signs 
 Which blazon in the zodiac of heav'n. 
 Around her throne coquets and petit beaux 
 Unnumber'd shine, and with each other vie 
 In nameless ornaments and gaudy plumes* 
 O worthy emulation ! to excel 
 In trifles such as these : how truly great ! 
 Unworthy of the peevish blubb'ring boy, 
 Crush'd in his childhood by the fondling nurse, 
 Who, for some fav'rite bauble, frets and pines. 
 
 Amongst the proud attendants of 'this shrine, 
 The wealthy, young, and gay Clarinda draws, 
 From poorer objects, the astonish'd eye : 
 Her looks, her dress, and her affected mien 
 Doom her enthusiast keen in Fashion's train : 
 White as the cover'd Mps, or wint'ry face 
 Of snowy Lapland, her toupee uprear'd, 
 Exhibits to the view a cumbrous mass 
 
88 
 
 Of curls high nodding o'er her polish' d brow ; 
 From which redundant flows the Brussels lace, 
 With pendant ribbons too of various dye, 
 Where all the colours in th' ethereal bow 
 Unite, and blend, and tantalize the sight. 
 
 Nature ! to thee alone, not Fashion's pomp 
 Does Beauty owe her all-commanding eye. 
 From the green bosom of the wat'ry main, 
 Array 'd by thee, majestic Venus rose, 
 With waving ringlets carelessly diffused, 
 Floating luxurious o'er the restless surge. 
 What Huberts, then, with his enlivening hand, 
 Could paint the bright vermilion of her cheek, 
 Pure as the roseate portal of the east, 
 That opens to receive the cheering ray 
 Of PhoBbus beaming frem the orient sky? 
 For sterling Beauty needs no faint essays, 
 Or colourings of art, to gild her more : 
 She is all perfect. And, if Beauty fail, 
 Where are those ornaments, those rich attires 
 Which can reflect a lustre on that face. 
 Where she with light innate disdains to shine? 
 
 Britons, beware of Fashion's luring wiles : 
 On either hand, chief guardians of her pow'r, 
 And sole dictators of her fickle voice, 
 Folly and dull effeminacy reign ; 
 Whose blackest magic and unhallowed spells 
 
89 
 
 The Roman ardour checked; their strength 
 
 decayed, 
 And all their glory seatter'd to the winds. 
 
 Tremble, O Albion ! for the voice of Fate 
 Seems ready to decree thy after-fall. 
 By pride, by luxury, what fated ills 
 Unheeded have approached thy mortal frame ! 
 How many foreign weeds their heads have 
 
 reared 
 In thy fair garden? Hasten, 'ere their strength 
 And baneful vegetation taint the soil, 
 To root out rank disease, which soon must 
 
 spread, 
 If no blessed antidote will purge away 
 Fashion's proud minions from our sea-girt isle* 
 
 H % 
 
A BURLESQUE ELEGY 
 
 On the Amputation of a Student's Hair, before his Orders, 
 
 O SAD catastrophe ! O event dire ! 
 
 How shall the loss, the heavy loss be borne? 
 Or how the Muse attune the plaintive lyre, 
 
 To sing of Strephon, with his ringlets shorn. 
 
 Say ye, who can divine the mighty cause, 
 From whence this modern circumcision 
 springs? 
 
 Why such oppressive and such rigid laws 
 Are still attendant on religious things ? 
 
 Alas S poor Strephan^ to the stern decree 
 Which prunes your tresses, are you doomed 
 to yield ? 
 
 Soon shall your caput, like the blasted tree, 
 Diffuse its faded honours o'er the field. 
 
 Now let the solemn sounds of mourning swell, 
 And wakeisad echoes to prolong the lay ; 
 
9i 
 
 For hark ! methinks I hear the tragic knell j 
 This hour bespeaks the barber on his way<, 
 
 O razor, yet thy poignant edge suspend ; 
 
 O yet indulge me with a short delay ; 
 Till I once more pourtray my yeuthful friend, 
 
 ? Ere his proud locks are scattered on the 
 clay, 
 
 ? Ere the huge wig, in formal curls array'd, 
 With pulvile pregnant, shall o'ershade his 
 face; 
 
 Or, like the wide umbrella, lend its aid, 
 To banish lustre from the sacred place. 
 
 Mourn, O ye zephyrs I for, alas ! no more 
 
 His waving ringlets shall your call obey ! 
 For, ah ! the stubborn wig must now be 
 wore, 
 Since Strephon's locks are scattered on the 
 clay. 
 
 Amanda, too, in bitter anguish sighs, 
 And grieves the metamorphosis to see ; 
 
 Mourn not, Amanda, for the hair that lies 
 Dead on the ground shall be revived for 
 thee. 
 
92 
 
 Some skilful artist of a French frizeur, 
 With graceful ringlets shall thy temples 
 bind, 
 
 And cull the precious relics from the floor, 
 Which yet may flutter in the wanton wind. 
 
WRITTEN AT THE 
 
 HERMITAGE OF BRAID, 
 
 NEAR EDINBURGH* 
 
 WOULD you relish a rural retreat, 
 Or the pleasure the groves can inspire, 
 
 The city's allurements forget, 
 To this spot of enchantment retire. 
 
 Where a valley, and chrystaline brook, 
 Whose current glides sweetly along, 
 
 Give nature a fanciful look, 
 
 The beautiful woodlands among. 
 
 Behold the umbrageous trees 
 A covert of verdure have spread, 
 
 Where shepherds may loll at their ease, 
 And pipe to the musical shade : 
 
 For lo ! thro' each opening is heart}, 
 In concert with waters below, 
 
 The voice of a musical bird, 
 
 Whose numbers do gracefully flow. 
 
94 
 
 The bushes and arbours so green, 
 The tendrils of spray interwove, 
 
 With foliage shelter the scene. 
 And form a retirement for love. 
 
 Here Venus transported may rove 
 From pleasure to pleasure unseen, 
 
 Nor wish for the Cyprian grove 
 Her youthful Adonis to screen. 
 
 Oft let me contemplative dwell 
 
 On a scene where such beauties appear : 
 I could live in a cot or a cell, 
 
 And never think solitude near. 
 
A TALE. 
 
 THOSE rigid pedagogues and fools, 
 
 Who walk by self-invented rules, 
 
 Bo often try, with empty head, 
 
 The emptier mortals to mislead, 
 
 And fain would urge, that none but they 
 
 Could rightly teach the A, B, C, 
 
 On which they *ve got an endless comment, 
 
 To trifling minds of mighty moment, 
 
 Throwing forth barriers in the way 
 
 Of those who genius display, 
 
 As often, ah ! too often teaze 
 
 Them out of patience, and of fees, 
 
 Before they 're able to explode 
 
 Obstructions thrown on Learning's road* 
 
 May mankind all employ their tools 
 
 To banish pedantry from schools! 
 
 And may each pedagogue avail, 
 
 By listening to the after tale ! 
 
 Wise Mr. Birch had long intended 
 The alphabet should be amended, 
 And taught that H a breathing was, 
 Ergo he saw no proper cause, 
 
96 
 
 Why such a letter should exist : 
 Thus in a breath was he dismissed, 
 With, " O beware, beware, O youth ! 
 " Take not the villain in your mouth." 
 
 One day this alphabetic sinner 
 Was eager to devour his dinner, 
 When to appease the craving glutton, 
 His boy Tom produced the mutton. 
 Was such disaster ever told ? 
 Alas ! the meat was deadly cold ! 
 Here take and h — eat it says the master ; 
 Quoth Tom, that shall be done, and fast, Sir; 
 And few there are who will dispute it ; 
 And he went instantly about it ; 
 For Birch had scorn'd the H to say, 
 And blew him with a puff away. 
 
 The bell was rung with dread alarm ; 
 ci Bring me the mutton, is it warm ?" 
 Sir you desir'd, and I have eat it; 
 « You lie, my orders were to heat iW 
 Quoth Tom, I'll readily allow 
 That H is but a breathing now. 
 
THE 
 
 PEASANT, THE HEN, # YOUNCt DUCKS- 
 
 A FABLE. 
 
 A HEN, of all the dung-hill cre\v 
 The fairest, stateliest to view, 
 Of laying tir'd, she fondly begs 
 Her Keeper's leave to hatch her eggs : 
 He, dunn'd with the incessant cry, 
 Was forced for peace's sake to comply 5 
 And in a month the downy brood 
 Came chirping round the hen for food, 
 Who viewed them with parental eyes 
 Of pleasing fondness and surprise, 
 And was not at a loss to trace 
 Her likeness growing in their face ; 
 Tho' the broad bills could well declare 
 That they another's offspring were 5 
 So strong will prejudices blind, 
 And lead astray the easy mind. 
 
 To the green margin of the brook 
 The hen her fancied children took j 
 
 I 
 
98 
 
 Each young one shakes his unfledg'd wings, 
 
 And to the flood by instinct springs ; 
 
 With willing strokes they gladly swim, 
 
 Or dive into the glassy stream, 
 
 While the fond mother vents her grief, 
 
 And prays the peasant's kind relief. 
 
 The peasant heard the bitter cries, 
 
 And thus in terms of rage replies : 
 
 " You fool ! give o'er your useless moan, 
 
 " Nor mourn misfortunes not your own ; 
 
 " But learn in wisdom to forsake 
 
 " The offspring of the duck and drake" 
 
 To whom the hen, with angry crest 
 
 And scornful look, herself addrest : 
 
 " If reason were my constant guide 
 
 " (Of man the ornament and pride,) 
 
 ** Then should I boast a cruel heart, 
 
 " And foreign feeling all depart; 
 
 "But since poor I, by instinct blind, 
 
 " Can boast no feelings so refin'd, 
 
 " 'Tis hop'd your reason will excuse, 
 
 " Tho' I your counsel sage refuse, 
 
 "And from the perils of the flood 
 
 "Attempt to save another's brood." 
 
 MORAL. 
 
 Wlien Pity, generous nymph ! possesz 
 Jlnd mov'd at will the human breast, 
 
90 
 
 %JSTo tongue its distant sufferings told, 
 But she assisted, she condoled, 
 And willing bore her tender part 
 In all the feelings of the heart; 
 But now from her our hearts decoy'd, 
 To sense of other woes destroyed, 
 Act only from a selfish view, 
 JSTor give the aid to Pity due, 
 
TO THE MEMORY 
 
 OF JOHN CUNNINGHAM, the Poet. 
 
 Sing his praises that doth keep 
 
 Our flocks from harm, 
 Pan, the father of our sheep : 
 
 And arm in arm 
 Tread we softly in a round, 
 While the hollow neighboring ground 
 Fills the music with her sound. 
 
 Beau^oxt and Fx.itch£B; 
 
 YE mournful meanders and groves, 
 Delight of the Muse and her song ! 
 
 Ye grottos and dropping alcoves. 
 No stranger's to Cory don's tongue ! 
 
 Let each Sylvan and Dryad declare 
 His themes and his music how dear ; 
 
 Their plaints and their dirges prepare, 
 Attendant on Corydon's bier. 
 
 The echo that join'd in the lay, 
 So amorous, sprightly, and free, 
 
lot 
 
 Shall send forth the sounds of dismay, 
 And sigh with sad pity for thee. 
 
 Wild wander his flocks with the breeze; 
 
 His reed can no longer controul ; 
 His numbers no longer can please, 
 
 Or send kind relief to the soul. 
 
 But long may they wander and hleat, 
 To hills tell the tale of their woe ; 
 
 The woodlands the tale shall repeat, 
 And the waters shall mournfully flow. 
 
 For these were the haunts of his love, 
 The sacred retreats of his ease, 
 
 Where favourite Fancy would rove, 
 As wanton, as light as the breeze. 
 
 Her zone will discoloured appear, 
 With fanciful ringlets unbound, 
 
 A face pale and languid she'll wear, 
 A heart fraught with sorrow profound. 
 
 The reed of each shepherd will mourn, 
 The shades of Parnassus decay ; 
 
 The Muses will dry their sad urn, 
 Since 'reft of young Cory don's la$% 
 
 I 2 
 
To him ev'ry passion was known 
 
 That throb bM in the breast with desire % 
 
 Each gentle affection was shewn 
 In the soft sighing songs of his lyre. 
 
 Like the caroling thrush on the spray 
 In music soft warb'ling and wild, 
 
 To love was devoted each lay, 
 In accents pathetic and mild. 
 
 Let beauty and virtue revere, 
 
 And the songs of the shepherd approve^ 
 Who felt, who lamented the snare, 
 
 When repining at pityless love. 
 
 The summer but languidly gleams, 
 Pomona no comfort can bring, 
 
 Nor vallies, nor grottos, nor streams, 
 Nor the May- born flowerets of spring. 
 
 K 
 
 They *ve fled all with Corydon's Muse, 
 For his brows to form chaplets of woe j 
 
 Whose reed oft awaken' d their boughs, 
 As the whispering breezes that bloWo 
 
 To many a fanciful spring 
 His lyre was melodiously strung; 
 
103 
 
 "While fairies* and fauns in a ring 
 
 Have applauded the swain as he sung. 
 
 To the cheerful he usher'd his smiles, 
 To the woeful his sigh and his tear ; 
 
 A condoler with want and her toils, 
 
 When the voice of oppression was near, 
 
 Tho ? titles and wealth were his due, 
 Tho' Fortune denied the reward ; 
 
 Yet truth and sincerity knew 
 
 What the goddess would never regard* 
 
 Avails aught the generous heart, 
 
 Which Nature to Goodness design'd^ 
 
 If Fortune denies to impart 
 Her kindly relief to the mind ? 
 
 *Twas but faint the relief to dismay? 
 
 The cells of the wretched among j 
 Tho ? sympathy sung in the lay, 
 
 Tho> melody fell from his tongue. 
 
 Let the favoured of Fortune attend 
 To the ails of the wretched and poor t 
 
 Tho ? Corydon's lays can befriend, 
 ? Tis riches alone that can cure, 
 
10* 
 
 But they to Compassion are dumb, 
 
 To Pity their voices unknown ; 
 Near Sorrow they never can come, 
 
 'Till Misfortune has marked them her own. 
 
 Now the shades of the evening depend; 
 
 Each warbler is lullM on the spray ; 
 The cypress doth ruefully bend 
 
 Where the cold corpse of Corydon stay. 
 
 Adieu then the songs of the swain ! 
 
 Let Peace still attend on his shade ; 
 And his pipe that is dumb to his strain, 
 
 In the grave be with Corydon laid. 
 
THE 
 
 DELIGHTS OF VIRTUE. 
 
 RETURNING Morn, in orient blush array'd, 
 With gentle radiance hail'd the sky serene ; 
 
 No rustly breezes wav'd the verdant shade, 
 Nor swelling surge disturbed the azure main. 
 
 These moments, Meditation, store are thine ; 
 
 These are the halcyon joys you wish to find, 
 When Nature's Peaceful elements combine 
 
 To suit the calm composure of the mind. 
 
 The Muse, exalted by thy sacred pow'r, 
 To the green mountain's airJborn summit flew, 
 
 Charm 9 d with the thoughtful stillness of an hour, 
 That ushered beaming Fancy to her view. 
 
 Fresh from old Neptune's fluid mansion sprung 
 The sun, reviver of each drooping flow'r ; 
 
 At his approach the lark, with matin song, 
 In notes of gratitude confess'd his pow'iv 
 
106 
 
 So shines fair Virtue, shedding light divine, 
 On those who wished to profit by her ways ; 
 
 Who ne'er at parting with their vice repine, 
 To taste the comforts of her blissful rays. 
 
 She with fresh hopes each sorrow can beguile. 
 Can dissipate Adversity's stern gloom, 
 
 Make meagre Poverty contented smile, 
 
 And the sad wretch forget his hapless 
 doom. 
 
 Sweeter than shady groves in summer's pride, 
 Than flow'ry dales or grassy meads is she j 
 
 Delightful as the honey'd streams that glide 
 From the rich labours of the busy bee. 
 
 Her paths and alleys are for ever green j 
 There innocence, in snowy robes array' d, 
 
 With smiles of pure content is hail'd the 
 queen 
 And happy mistress of the sacred shade, 
 
 O let not transient gleams of earthly joy 
 From Virtue lure your lab'ring steps aside 5 
 
 Nor instant grandeur future hopes annoy 
 With thoughts that spring from Insolence 
 and Pride, 
 
107 
 
 Soon will the winged moments speed away, 
 When you '11 no more the plumes of honour 
 wear ; 
 Grandeur must shudder at the sad decay, 
 And pride look humble when he ponders 
 there. 
 
 Deprived of Virtue, where is beauty's j)ow ? r? 
 
 Her dimpPd smiles, her roses charm no more; 
 So much can guilt the loveliest form deflower, 
 
 We loath that beauty which we lov'd before. 
 
 How fair are Virtue's buds where-e'er they 
 blow, 
 
 Or in the desart wild or garden gay ! 
 Her flow'rs how sacred whereso'er they show? 
 
 Unknown to the black canker of decay ! 
 
A TAVERN ELEGY. 
 
 FLED are the moments of delusive Mirth, 
 The fancy'd pleasure ! paradise divine ! 
 
 Hush'd are the clamours that derive their birth 
 From generous floods of squ! reviving wine. 
 
 Still night and silence now succeed the noise j 
 The ebbing tides of passion rage no more j 
 
 But all is peaceful as the ocean's voice 
 
 Wken breezeless waters kiss the silent shore. 
 
 Here stood the juice whose care-controuling 
 powers 
 
 Could ev'ry human misery subdue, 
 And wake to sportive joy the lazy hours, 
 
 That to the languid senses hateful grew. 
 
 Attracted by the magic of the bowl, 
 Around the swelling brim in full array 
 
 The glasses circled, as the planets roll, 
 
 And hail with borrowed light the god Of 
 day. 
 
109 
 
 Here Music, the delight of moments gay, 
 Bade the unguarded tongues their motions 
 cease, 
 
 And with a mirthful, a melodious lay, 
 Aw'd the fell voice of Discord into Peace. 
 
 These are the joys that Virtue must approve, 
 While lleason shines with majesty divine, 
 
 *Ere our ideas in disorder move, 
 
 And sad excess against the soul combine. 
 
 What evils have not frenzy'd mortals done 
 By wine, that ignis fatuus of the mind ! 
 
 How many by its force to vice are won, 
 Since first ordain'd to tantalize mankind! 
 
 By Bacchus 9 pow'r, ye sons of riot! say, 
 How many watchful centinels have bled ! 
 
 How many travellers have lost their way, 
 By lamps unguided thro 9 the evening shade! 
 
 O spare those friendly twinklers of the night ! 
 
 Let no rude cane their hallow'd orbs assail! 
 JFor cowardice alone condemns the light, 
 
 That shews her countenance aghast and pale* 
 
 Now the short taper warns me to depart, 
 'Ere Darkness shall assume his dreary sway, 
 
 K 
 
110 
 
 *Ere Solitude fall heavy on my heart, 
 That lingers for the far approach of day. 
 
 Who would not vindicate the happy doom 
 To be for ever numbered with the dead, 
 
 Hather than bear the miserable gloom, 
 
 When all his comfort, all his friends are fled? 
 
 Bear me, ye gods ! where I may calmly re&t 
 From all the follies of the night secure ; 
 
 The balmy blessings of Repose to taste, 
 Nor hear the tongue of Outrage at my door. 
 
GOOD EATING. 
 
 HEAR, O ye host of Epicurus ! hear I 
 Each portly form, whose overhanging paunch 
 Can well denote the all-transcendant joy 
 That springs unbounded from fruition full 
 Of rich Repast ; to yon I consecrate 
 The song adventurous ; happy if the Muse 
 Can cook the numbers to your palates keen, 
 Or send but half the relish with her song, 
 That smoking sirloins to your souls convey. 
 
 Hence now, ye starvelings wan! whose emp- 
 ty wombs 
 Oft echo to the hollow-murm'ring tones 
 Of Hunger fell. — Avaunt, ye base born hinds t 
 Whose fates unkind ne'er destined you to gorge 
 The banquet rare, or wage a pleasing war 
 With the delicious morsels of the earth. 
 To you I sing not : for, alas ! what pain, 
 What tantalizing tortures would ensue, 
 To aid the force of Famine's sharpest tooth, 
 Were I to breath my accents in your ear ! 
 
 Hail, Roast Beef ! monarch of the festive 
 throng, 
 To hunger's bane the strongest antidote ; 
 
112 
 
 Come, and with all thy rage-appeasing sweets 
 Our appetites allay ! For, or attended 
 By root Hibernian, or plumb pudding rare, 
 Still thou art welcome to the social board. 
 Say, can the spicy gales from Orient blown, 
 Or zephyr's wing, that from the orange groves 
 Brushes the breeze, with rich perfumes replete, 
 More aromatic or reviving smell 
 To nostrils bring? Or can the glassy streams 
 Of Pactolus, that o'er its golden sands 
 Delightful glide, thy luscious drops outvie, 
 That from thy sides embrowned unnumbered 
 
 fall? 
 Behold, at thy approach, what smiles serene 
 Beam from the ravish'd guests ! — Still are their 
 
 While they with whetted instruments prepare 
 For deep incision. — Now the abscess bleeds, 
 And the devouring band, with stomachs keen, 
 And glutting rage, thy beauteous form destroy, 
 Leave you a marrowless skeleton and bare, 
 A prey to dunghills, or vexatious sport 
 Of torrent rushing from defilement's urns, 
 That o'er the city's flinty pavement hurls. 
 
 So fares it with the man, whose powerful pelf 
 Once could command respect. Garess'd by all* 
 His bounties were as lavish as the hand 
 Of yellow Ceres, till his stores deeay'd, 
 
413 
 
 And then (0 dismal tale !) those precious drops 
 Of flatter j that bedew'd his spring of fortune, 
 Leave the sad winter of his state so falPn, 
 Nor nurse the thorn from which they ne'er can 
 
 hope 
 Again to pluck the odour dropping rose ! 
 For thee, Roast Beef ! in variegated shapes. 
 Have mortals toiPd. — The sailor sternly braves 
 The strength of Boreas, and exulting stands 
 Upon the sea-waslPd deck— with hopes inspired 
 Of yet indulging in thy wished for sweets, 
 He smiles amidst the dangers that surround 
 
 him ; 
 Cheerful he steers to cold forbidden climes, * 
 Or to the torrid zone explores his way. 
 
 Be kind, ye Powers ! and still propitious, send 
 This paragon of feeding to our halls. 
 With this regaPd, who would vain-glorious wish 
 For tow'ring pyramids superbly crown'd, 
 "With jellies, syllabubs, or ice creams rare? 
 These can amuse the eye, and may bestow 
 A short-liv'd pleasure to a palate strange ; 
 But, for a moment's pleasure, who would vend 
 A life-time that would else be spent in joy, 
 For hateful loathings and for gouty rheums, 
 Ever preceded by indulged excess ! 
 
 Blest be those walls where Hospitality 
 And Welcome reign at large ! there may you of t 
 
 K a. 
 
144 
 
 Of social clieer partake, and love and joy. 
 Pleasures that to the human mind convey 
 Ideal pictures of the bliss supreme : 
 But near the gate where parsimony dwells, 
 Where ceremony cool, and brow austere, 
 Confront the guests, ne'er let tby foot ap- 
 proach ! 
 For, void of kind benevolence, heavenly virtue ! 
 What is life's garden but a devious wild, 
 Thro' which the traveller must pass forlorn, 
 Unguided by the aid of Friendship's ray? 
 Kather, if Poverty hold converse with thee, 
 To the lone garret's lofty bield ascend, 
 Or dive to some sad cell ; there have recourse 
 To meagre offals, where, tho' small thy fare, 
 Freedom shall wing thee to a purer joy 
 Than banquets with superfluous dainties 
 
 crown'd, 
 Mix'd with reserve and coolness, can afford. 
 
 But if your better fortunes have prepared 
 Your purse with ducats, and with health thy 
 
 frame, 
 Assemble, friends ! and to the tavern straight, 
 Where the officious waiter, bending low, 
 Is passive to a fault. Then, nor the Signior 
 
 Grand, 
 Or Russia's Empress, signaliz'd for war, 
 Can govern w 7 ith mure arbitrary sway. 
 
115 
 
 Ye who for health, for exercise, for air, 
 Oft saunter from Edina's smoke-capt spires, 
 And, by the grassy hill or dimpFd brook, 
 An appetite revive, should oft-times stray 
 O'er .Arthur' s-seatfs green pastures, to the 
 
 town 
 For sheep-heads and bone-bridges fam'd of 
 
 yore, 
 That in our country's annals stands yclept 
 Fair Vuddingstonia, where you may be blest 
 With simple fare and vegetable sweets, 
 Fpeed from fbe clamours of the basy world. 
 
 Or, if for recreation you should stray 
 To Leithian shore, and breathe the keener air 
 Wafted from Neptune's empire of the main ; 
 If appetite invite, and cash prevail, 
 Ply not your joints upon the homeward track, 
 Till Lawson, chiefest of the Scottish hosts ! 
 To nimble-footed waiters give command 
 The cloth to lay.- — Instinctively they come, 
 And lo ! the table, wrapt in cloudy steams, 
 Groans with the weight of the transporting fare 
 That breathes frankincense on the guests 
 around. 
 
 Now, while stern Winter holds his frigid 
 sway, 
 And to a period spins the closing year ; 
 While festivals abound, and sportive hours 
 
116' 
 
 Kill the remembrance of our weaning time. 
 Let not Intemperance, destructive fiend ! 
 Gain entrance to your halls. — Despoiled by 
 
 him, 
 Shall cloyed appetite, forerunner sad 
 Of rank disease, inveterate clasp your frame. 
 Contentment shall no more be known to spread 
 Her cherub wings round thy once happy dwel- 
 ling, 
 But misery of thought, and racking pain, 
 Shall plunge you headlong to the dark abyss^ 
 
TEA. Jt Poem. 
 
 YE maidens modest ! on whose sullen brows 
 Hath weaning Chastity her wrinkles culPd, 
 Who constant labour o'er consumptive oil. 
 At midnight knell, to wash sleeps nightly balm 
 From closing eye-lids, with the grateful drops 
 Of Tea's blest juices 5 list th* obsequious lays 
 That come not with Parnassian honours 
 
 crowned, 
 To dwell in murmurs o'er your sleepy sensej 
 But fresh from Orient blown to chace far oft* 
 Your lethargy, that dormant needles rous'd 
 May pierce the waving Mantua's silken folds : 
 For many a dame in chamber sadly pent, 
 Hath this reviving limpid call'd to life ; 
 And well it did, to mitigate the frowns 
 Of anger reddening on Lucinda's brow, 
 With flash malignant, that had harhour'd there, 
 If she at masquerade, or play, or ball, 
 Appeared not in her newest, best attire. 
 But Venus, goddess of th' eternal smile, 
 Knowing that stormy brows but ill become 
 Fair patterns of her beauty, hath ordain'd 
 
118 
 
 Celestial Tea! — A fountain that can cure 
 The ills of passion, and can free the fair 
 Fram frowns and sighs, by Disappointment 
 
 earned. 
 To her, ye fair, in adoration bow ! 
 Whether at blushing morn, or dewy eve ; 
 Her smoaking cordials greet your fragrant 
 
 board, 
 With Shushong, Congo, or coarse Bohea 
 
 crown'd. 
 At midnight skies, ye Mantua-makers, hail 
 The sacred offering! — For the haughty Belles 
 No longer upbraid your lingering hands 
 With trains upborn aloft by dusky gales 
 That sweep the ball-room — swift they glide 
 
 along, 
 And, with their sailing streamers, catch the eye 
 Of some Jldonis, mark'd to love a prey, 
 Whose bosom ne'er had panted with a sigh, 
 But for the silken draperies that inclose 
 Graces which nature has by Art coneeaPd. 
 Mark well the fair ! observe their modest 
 
 eye, 
 With all the innocence of beauty blest. 
 Could Slander o'er that tongue its pow'r retain 
 Whose breath is music? Ah, fallacious thought ! 
 The surface is Ambrosia's mingl'd sweets ; 
 But all below is death. At tea-board met, 
 
 
Hi) 
 
 Attend their prattling tongues — they scoff— 
 
 they rail 
 Unbounded ; but their darts are chiefly aim'd 
 At some gay Fair, whose beauties far eclipse 
 Her dim beholders— who, with haggard eyes, 
 Would blight those charms where raptures 
 
 long have dwelt 
 In extacy, delighted and sufficed. 
 
 In vain hath Beauty, with her varied robe. 
 Bestowed her glowing blushes o'er her cheeks, 
 And calPd attendant Graces to her aid, 
 To blend the scarlet and the lilly fair. 
 In vain did Venus in her fav'rite mould 
 Adapt the slender form to Cupid's choice— 
 When slender comes, herTblasts too fatal prove; 
 Pale are those cheeks where youth and beauty 
 
 glow'd, 
 Where smiles, where freshness, and where 
 
 roses grew : 
 Ghastly and wan their Gorgon picture comes, 
 With ev'ry Fury grinning from the looks 
 Of frightful monster — Envy's hissing tongue, 
 With deepest vengeance wounds, and evVy 
 
 wound 
 With deeper canker, deeper poison teems. 
 Gold ! thy luring lustre first prevailed 
 On Man to tempt the fretful winds and waves, 
 And hunt new fancies. Still thy glaring form 
 
130 
 
 Bids Commerce thrive, and o'er the Indiau 
 
 waves, 
 O'er-stemming danger, draw the laboring keel 
 From China's coast to Britain's colder clime, 
 Fraught with the fruits and herbage of their 
 
 vales ; 
 In them whatever vegetable springs, 
 How loathsome and corrupted, triumphs here, 
 The bane of life, of health the sure decay ; 
 Yet, yet ye swallow, and extol the draught, 
 Tho' nervous ails should spring, and vaporish 
 
 qualms 
 Our senses and our appetites destroy. 
 
 Look round, ye sipplers of the poison'd eup 
 From foreign plant distilPd ! no more repine 
 That Nature, sparing of her sacred sweets, 
 Hath doom'd you in a wilderness to dwell, 
 While round Britannia's streams she kindly 
 
 rears 
 Green Sage and Wild TJiyme. — These were 
 
 sure decreed 
 As plants of Britain to regale her sons 
 With native moisture, more refreshing sweet, 
 And more profuse of health and vigour's balm, 
 Than all the stems that India can boast. 
 
THE SOW OF FEELING. 
 
 Well! I protest there's no such thing as dealing 
 With these starch'd poets— with these Men of Feeling, 
 Epilogue to the Pbince of Tunis, 
 
 MALIGNANT planets ! do ye still combine 
 Against this wayward, dreary life of mine ! 
 Has pityless Oppression — (cruel case!) 
 Gain'd sole possession of the human race ? 
 By cruel hands has ev'ry virtue bled, 
 And innocence from men to vultures fled I 
 Thrice happy had I liv'd in Jewish time, 
 When swallowing pork or pig was thought a 
 
 crime : 
 My husband long had blest my longing arms, 
 Long, long had known Love's sympathetic 
 
 charms ! 
 My children too— a little suckling race, 
 With all their father growing in their face, 
 From their prolific dam had ne'er been torn. 
 Nor to the bloody stalls of butchers borne, 
 
 Ah ! Luxury ! to you my being owes 
 Its load of misery — its load of woes ! 
 
 L 
 
123 
 
 With heaVy heart I saunter all the day, 
 Gr untie and murmur all my hours away ! 
 In vain I try to summon old Desire, 
 For fav'rite sports — for wallowing in the mire : 
 Thoughts of my husband — of my children slain, 
 Turn all my wonted pleasure into pain ! 
 How oft did we, in Phoebus' warming ray, 
 Bask on the humid softness of the clay ! 
 Oft did his lusty head defend my tail 
 From the rude whispers of the angry gale 5 
 While nose-refreshing puddles streamed 
 
 around, 
 And floating odours hail'd the dung-clad 
 
 ground. 
 Near by a rustic mill's inchanting clack, 
 Where plenteous bushels load the peasant's 
 
 back, 
 In straw-crowned hovel, there to life we came, 
 One boar our father, and one sow our dam : 
 While tender infants on their mother's breast, 
 A flame divine on either shone confest ; 
 In riper hours Love's more than ardent blaze 
 Inkindjed all his passion, all his praise ! 
 No deadly, sinful passion fir'd his soul, 
 Virtue o'er all his actions gain'd controul ! 
 That cherub which attracts the female heart, 
 And makes them soonest with their beauh 
 
 part, 
 
133 
 
 Attracted mine ; — I gave him all my love. 
 In the recesses of a verdant grove : 
 'Twas there I listened to his warmest vows? 
 Amidst the pendant melancholy boughs ; 
 'Twas there my trusty lover shook for me 
 A show'r of acorns from the oaken tree ; 
 And from the teeming earth, with joy, ploughed 
 
 out 
 The root salubrious with his hardy snout, 
 
 But happiness, a floating meteor thou ! 
 That still inconstant art to man and sow? 
 Left us in gloomiest horrors to reside, 
 Near by the deep-dy ? d sanguinary tide 
 Where whetting steel prepares the butchering 
 
 knives, 
 With greater ease to take the harmless lives 
 Of cows j and calves, and sheep, and hog, whon 
 
 fear j 
 
 The bite of bull-doss, that incessant tear 
 
 J t5 
 
 > 
 
 Their flesh, and keenly suck the blood-still- 
 
 ing ear ! 
 
 At length the day, th ? eventful day drew 
 
 near, 
 
 Detested cause of many a briny tear ! 
 
 I'll weep till sorrow shall my eye-lids drain, 
 
 A tender husband, and a brother slain ! 
 
 Alas ! the lovely languor of hi\eye, 
 
 When the base murderers bore hh^ captive by ! 
 
124 
 
 His mournful voice ! the music of his groans, 
 Had melted any hearts — but hearts of stones ! 
 O ! had some angel at that instant come, 
 Giv'n me four nimble fingers and a thumb, 
 The blood-stainM blade I'd turnM upon his 
 
 foe, 
 And sudden sent him to the shades below— 
 Where, or Pythagoras' opinion jests, 
 Beasts are made butchers — butchers changed 
 
 to beasts. 
 In early times the law had wise decreed, 
 For human food but reptiles few should bleed ; 
 But monstrous man, still erring from the laws, 
 The curse of heaven on his banquet draws 1 
 Already has he drain'd the marshes dry 
 For frogs, new emblems of his luxury; 
 And soon the toad and lizard will come home, 
 Pure victims to the hungry glutton's womb : 
 Cats, rats, and mice, their destiny may mourn, 
 In time their carcasses on spits must turn; 
 They may rejoice to-day — while I resign 
 Life to to be numbered 'niongst the feeling 
 
 sivine. 
 
AN EXPEDITION 
 TO FIFE # THE ISLAND OF MAY. 
 
 On board the Blessed Endeavour, of Dunbar, Captain Rox~ 
 Duugh, commander. 
 
 LIST, O ye slumb'rers on the peaceful shore! 
 Whose lives are one unvariegated calm 
 Of stillness and of sloth * and hear, O nymph I 
 In heav'n yclept Pleasure: from your throne 
 Effulgent send a heav'nly radiant beam, 
 That, cheer'd by thee, the Muse may bend her 
 
 way; 
 For from no earthly flight she builds her song, 
 But from the bosom of green Neptune's main 
 Would fain emerge, and under Phcebe's reign, 
 Transmit her numbers to inclining ears. 
 
 Now when the choiring songsters quit the 
 
 groves, 
 And solemn sounding whispers lull the spray, 
 To meditation sacred, let me roam 
 O'er the blest floods that wash our natal shore 
 And view the wonders of the deep profound, 
 
 1*2 
 
126 
 
 While now the western breezes reign around. 
 And Boreas, sleeping in his iron cave, 
 Regains his strength and animated rage, 
 To wake new tempests and inswell new seas. 
 And now Favonius wings the sprightly gale ; 
 The willing canvas, swelling with the breeze, 
 Gives life and motion to our bounding prow, 
 While the hoarse boatswain's pipe shrill sound- 
 
 ing far, 
 Calls all the tars to action. Hardy sons! 
 Who shudder not at life's devouring gales, 
 But smile amidst the tempest-sounding jars, 
 Or 'midst the hollow thunders of the war : 
 Fresh sprung from Greenland's cold, they hail 
 
 with joy 
 The happier clime, the fresh autumnal breeze, 
 By Sirius guided to allay the heat, 
 That else would parch the vigour of their veins. 
 Hard change, alas ! from petrifying cold 
 Instant to plunge to the severest ray 
 That burning Dog-star or bright Phoebus sheds, 
 Like comet whirling thro' th ? etherial void, 
 Now they are redden'd with the solar blaze, 
 Now froze and tortur'd with the frigid zone. 
 Thrice happy Britons! whose well-temperM 
 
 clay 
 
 Can face all climes, all tempests, and all seas. 
 These are the sons that check the growing war ; 
 
127 
 
 These are the sons that hem Britannia round 
 From sudden innovation ; awe the shores, 
 And make their drooping pendants hail her 
 
 queen 
 And mistress of tjie globe. — They guard oar 
 
 beds, 
 While fearless we enjoy secure repose, 
 And all the blessings of a bounteous sky. 
 To them in fev'rous adoration bend, 
 Ye fashioned Macaronies! whose bright blades 
 Were never dimm'd or stain'd in hostile blood, 
 But still hang dangling at your feeble thigh, 
 While thro' the Mall or Parle you shew away, 
 Or thro' the drawing-room on tiptoe steal. 
 On poop aloft, to messmates laid along, 
 Some son of Neptune, whose old wrinkl'd brow 
 Has bay'd the ratling thunder, tell's his tale 
 Of dangers, sieges, and of battles dire, 
 While they, elate with success of the day, 
 Cheer him with happy smiles, or bitter sighs, 
 When Fortune with a sourer aspect grins. 
 
 Ah! how unstable are the joys of life! 
 The pleasures, ah ! how few! — Now smile the 
 
 skies 
 With visage mild, and now the thunders shake, 
 And all the radiance of the heav'ns deflower. 
 Thro' the small op'nings of the mainsail broad? 
 ho? Boreas steals, and tears him from the yard % 
 
128 
 
 Where long and lasting he has play'd his part! 
 So suffers Virtue, j When in her fair form 
 The smallest flaw is found, the whole decays. 
 In vain she may implore with piteous eye, 
 And spread her naked pinions to the blast : 
 A reputation maim'd finds no repair, 
 Till Death, the ghastly monarch, shuts the 
 
 scene. 
 And now we gain the May, whose midnight 
 
 light, 
 Like vestal virgins' off'*ings undecay'd, 
 To mariners bewildered acts the part 
 Of social Friendship, guiding those who err, 
 With kindly radiance to their destined port. 
 Thanks, kindest Nature ! for those floating 
 
 gems, 
 Those green-grown isles, with which you lavish 
 
 strew 
 Great Neptune's empire. But for thee! the 
 
 main 
 Were an uncomfortable mazy flood. 
 No guidance then would bless the steersman's 
 
 skill, 
 No resting-place would crown the mariner's 
 
 wish, 
 When he to distant gales his canvass spreads 
 To search new wonders. — Here the verdant 
 
 shores 
 
4M 
 
 Teem with new freshness, and regale our sight 
 With caves that ancient Time, in days of yore, 
 Sequestered for the haunt of Druid lone, 
 There to remain in solitary cell, 
 Beyond the pow'r of mortals to disjoin 
 From holy meditation. — Happy now 
 To cast our eyes around from shore to shore, 
 While by the oozy caverns on the beech 
 We wander wild, and listen to the roar 
 Of billows murmuring with incessant noise. 
 
 And now, by Fancy led, we wander wild 
 Where o'er the rugged steep the buried dead 
 Remote lie anchored in their parent mould ; 
 Where a few fading willows point the state 
 Of man's decay. Ah, Death! where'er we fly,' 
 Whether we seek the busy and the gay, 
 The mourner or the joyful, there art thou, 
 No distant isle, no surly swelling surge, 
 E'er aw'd thy progress, or controul'd thy sway, 
 To bless us with that comfort, length of days , 
 By all aspir'd at, but by few attained. 
 
 To Fife we steer, of all beneath the sun 
 The most unhallow'd 'midst the Scotian plains S 
 And here, sad emblem of deceitful times ! 
 Hath sad Hypocrisy her standard borne. 
 Mirth knows no residence, but ghastly Fear 
 Stands trembling and appall'd at airy sights, 
 Once, only once! Reward it, ye Pow'rs ! 
 
130 
 
 Did Hospitality, with open face, 
 And winning smile, cheer the deserted sight 
 That else had languished for the blest return 
 Of beauteous day, to dissipate the clouds 
 Of endless night, and superstition wild, 
 That constant hover o'er the dark abode. 
 O happy Lothian! Happy thrice her sons ! 
 Who ne'er yet ventured from the southern shore 
 To tempt Misfortune on the Fifan coast ; 
 Again with thee we dwell and taste thy joys, 
 Where Sorrow reigns not, and where ev'ry gale 
 Is fraught with fullness, blest with living hope, 
 That fears no canker from the year's decay. 
 
TO 
 
 SIR JOHN FIELDING, 
 
 On His Attempt to Suppress The Beggar's Of Eau> 
 
 When you censure the age, 
 Be cautious and sage, 
 Lest the courtiers offended should be % 
 When you mention vice or bribe, 
 'Tis so pat to all the tribe, 
 Each cries, It was levelPd at me. 
 
 Gat/ 
 5 Tis woman that seduces all mankind. 
 
 Filch. 
 
 BENEATH what cheerful region of the sky 
 Shall Wit, shall Humour, and the Muses fly? 
 For our's, a cold, inhospitable clinic, 
 Refuses quarter to the Muse and Rhime ; 
 If on her brows an envy'd laurel springs, 
 They shake its foliage, crop her growing wingg, 
 That with the plumes of virtue wisely soar, 
 And all the follies of the age explore. 
 But should old Grub her rankest venom poui> 
 And eVry virtue with a vice deflower, 
 Her verse is sacred, Justices agree, — 
 Ev ? n Justice Fielding signs the wise decree* 
 
132 
 
 Let fortune-dealers, wise predictors ! tell 
 From what bright planet Justice Fielding fell; 
 Augusta trembles at the awful name ; 
 The darling tongue of Liberty is tame, 
 Basely confined by him in Newgate chains, 
 Nor dare exclaim how harshly Fielding reigns. 
 
 In days when ev'ry mercer has his scale 
 To tell what pieces lack, how few prevail ! 
 I wonder not the low-born menial trade 
 By partial Justice has aside been laid : 
 For she gives no discount for Virtue worn, 
 Her aged joints are without mercy torn. 
 
 In vain, O Gay ! thy muse explored the way 
 Of Yore to banish the Italian lay, 
 Gave homely numbers sweet, tho' warmly strong; 
 The British chorus blest the happy song : 
 Thy manly voice and Jllbion J s then were heard, 
 Felt by her sons, and by her sons rever'd : 
 Eunuchs, not men, now bear aloft the palm, 
 And o'er our senses pour lethargic balm. 
 
 The Stage the truest mirror is of life ; 
 Our passions there revolve in active strife ; 
 Each character is there displayed to view ; 
 Each hates his own, tho ? well assured 'tis true. 
 No marvel then that all the world should own, 
 In Peachum's treachery Justice Fieldingknown, 
 Since thieves so common are, and, Justice you 
 Thieves to the gallows for reward pursue. 
 
133 
 
 Had Gay by writing rous'd the stealing trade, 
 YWd been less active to suppress your bread; 
 For, trust me ! when a robber loses ground, 
 You lose your living with your forty pound. 
 'Twas Woman first that snatch'd the luring 
 bait, 
 The tempter taught her to transgress and eat; 
 Tho' wrong the deed, her quick compunction 
 
 told, 
 She banish'd Adam from an age of gold. 
 When women now transgress fair Virtue's 
 rules, 
 Men are their pupils, and the stews their 
 
 schools ; 
 From simple wh« — d — m greater sins began 
 To shoot, to bloom, to center all in man ; 
 Footpads on Hounslow flourish here to-day. 
 The next old Tyburn sweeps them all away ; 
 For woman's faults, the cause of ev'ry wrong ! 
 Men robb'd and murder'd, thieves at Tyburn 
 
 strung. 
 In panting breasts to raise the fond alarm, 
 Make females in the cause of Virtue warm, 
 Gay has compared them to the summer flower, 
 The boast and glory of an idle hour ; 
 When cropt it falls, shrinks, withers, and de* 
 
 cays, 
 And to oblivion dark consigns its days 
 
 M 
 
134 
 
 Hath this a pow'r to win the female heart 
 Back from its vice, from virtue ne'er to part ; 
 If so the wayward virgin will restore, 
 And murders, rapes, and plunders be no more. 
 
 These were the lays of him who virtue knew, 
 Rever'd her dictates, and practised them too; 
 No idle theorist in her stainless ways, 
 He gave the parent Goddess all his days. 
 
 O Queensberry ! his best and earliest friend. 
 All that his wit or learning could command ; 
 Best of patrons! the Muse's only pride ! 
 Still in ker pageant shalt thou first preside; 
 No idle pomp that riches can procure, 
 Sprung at a start, and faded in an hour, 
 But pageant, lasting as the uncropt bay. 
 That verdant triumphs with the Muse of Gay, 
 
TO 
 
 DR. SAMUEL JOHNSON — 
 
 Food for a new Edition of his Dictionary, 
 
 Let Wilkes and Churchill rage no more 5 
 Tho' scarce provision, learning's goods 
 
 What can these hungries next explore, 
 Ev'n Samuel Johnson loves our food. 
 
 GREAT pedagogue, whose literarian lore, 
 
 With syllable and syllable conjoined, 
 
 To transmutate and varify, has learned 
 
 The whole revolving scientific names 
 
 That in the alphabetic columns lie, 
 
 Far from the knowledge of mortal shapes ; 
 
 As we, who never can peroculate 
 
 The miracles by thee miraculiz'd, 
 
 The Muse silential long, with mouth apert, 
 
 Would give vibration to stagnatic tongue, 
 
 And loud eneomiate thy puissant name, 
 
 Eulogiated from the green decline 
 
 Of Thames's banks to Scoticanian shores^ 
 
 Where Loch-lomondian liquids undulize. 
 
136 
 
 To meminate thy name in after times, 
 The mighty Mayor of each regalian town 
 Shall consignate thy work to parehment fair 
 In roll hurgharian, and their tables all 
 Shall fumigate with fumigation strong: 
 Scotland, from perpendicularian hills, 
 Shall emigrate her fair muttonian store, 
 Which late had there in pedestration walk'rf, 
 And o'er her airy heights perambulizM. 
 
 Oh, blackest execrations on thy head, 
 Edina shameless ! tho ? he came within 
 The bounds of your Notation; tho' you knew 
 His honorific name, you noted not, 
 But basely suffered him to chariotize 
 Far from your tow'rs, with smoke that nubilate, 
 Nor drank one amicitial swelling cup 
 To welcome him convivial. Bailies all I 
 With rage inflated, catenations* tear, 
 Nor ever after you be vinculiz'd, 
 Since you that sociability denied 
 To him whose potent Lexiphanian stile 
 Words can prolongate, and inswell his page 
 With what in others to a line's confined. 
 
 Welcome, thou verbal potentate and prince I 
 To hills and vallies, where emerging oats 
 From earth assuage our pauperty to bay, 
 And bless thy name, thy dictionarian skill, 
 
 * Catenationsj vide Chains. Johnson 
 
137 
 
 1 
 
 Which there definitive will still remain, 
 And oft be speculiz'd by taper blue, 
 While youth studentious turn thy folio page* 
 
 Have you as yet, in peripatetic mood, 
 Regarded with the texture of the eye 
 The cave cavernicJc, where fraternal bard, 
 Churchill, depicted pauperated swains, 
 With thraldom and bleak want reducted sore ; 
 Where nature coloriz/d, so coarsely fades, 
 And puts her russet paraphernalia on? 
 Have you as yet the way explorified 
 To let lignarian chalice, swelPd with oats, 
 Thy orifice approach ? Have you as yet, 
 With skin fresh rubified by scarlet spheres, 
 ApplyM brimstonic unction to your hide, 
 To terrify the salamandrian fire 
 That from involuntary digits asks 
 The strong allaceration ?— Or can you swill 
 The usquebalian flames of whisky blue 
 In fermentation strong? Have you applied 
 The kelt aerian to your Anglian thighs, 
 And with renunciation, assigniz'd 
 Your breeches in Londona to be worn? 
 Can you, in frigor of Highlandian sky, 
 On heathy summits take nocturnal rest? 
 It cannot be — You may as well desire 
 An alderman leave plumb-puddenian store, 
 And scratch the tegument from pottage dish, 
 
 M 2 
 
138 
 
 As bid thy countrymen, and thee conjoined, 
 Forsake stomachic joys. Then hie you home 
 And be a malcontent, that naked hinds, 
 On lentiles fed, can make your kingdom quake^ 
 And trpmulate old England libertiz'd* 
 
CHARACTER OF A FRIEND, 
 
 In an EPITAPH which he desired the Author to write, 
 
 UNDER this turf, to mouldering earth coib. 
 
 sign'd, 
 Lies he, who once was fickle as the wind. 
 Alike the scenes of good and ill he knew, 
 From the chaste temple to the lewdest stew, 
 Virtue and vice in him alternate reigned; 
 That filFd his mind, and this his pocket drain'do 
 Till in the contest they so stubborn grew, 
 Death gave the parting blow, and both with- 
 drew* 
 
EPILOGUE, 
 
 Spoken by Mr. Wilson, at the Theatre-Royal, in the Charact 
 of an Edinburgh Buck. 
 
 YE who oft finish care in Lethe's cup, 
 Who love to swear, and roar and keep it up, 
 List to a brother's voice, whose sole delight 
 Is sleep all day, and riot all the night. 
 
 Last night, when potent draughts of mellow 
 wine 
 Did sober reason into wit refine ; 
 When lusty Bacchus had contrived to drain 
 The siillen vapours from our shallow brain, 
 We sallied forth (for Valour's dazzling sun 
 Up to his bright meridian had run) ; 
 And like renowned Quixotte and his squire, 
 Spoils and adventures were our sole desire. 
 
 First we approached a seeming sober dame, 
 Preceded by a lanthorn's pallid flame, 
 Borne by a livry'd puppy's servile hand, 
 The slave obsequious of her stern command. 
 Curse on those cits, said I, who dare disgrace 
 1 Our streets at midnight with a sober face : 
 
141 
 
 Let never tallow chandler give them light, 
 To guide them thro' the dangers of the night. 
 The valet's cane we snatched, and, damme ! I 
 Made the frail lanthorn on the pavement lie. 
 The guard, still watchful of the lieges' harm, 
 With slow pae'd motion stalk'd at the alarm. 
 Guard, seize the rogues I the angry madam 
 
 cry'd, 
 And all the guard with seize ta rogue reply'd. 
 As in a war, there's nothing judg'd so right 
 As a concerted and prudential flight; 
 So we, from guard and scandal to be freed, 
 Left them the field, and burial of the dead. 
 Next we approach'd the bounds of George^s 
 
 square, 
 Blest place ! No watch, no constable, comes 
 
 there. 
 Now had they borrowed Argus 9 eyes who saw 
 
 us, 
 All was made dark and desolate as chaos : 
 Lamps tumbl'd after lamps, and lost their lus- 
 tres, 
 Like doomsday, when the stars shall fall in 
 
 clusters. 
 Let fancy paint what dazzling glory grew 
 From chrystal gems, when Phoebus came in 
 
 view ; 
 
143 
 
 Each shattered orb ten thousand fragments 
 
 strews, 
 And a new sun in ev'ry fragment shews. 
 Hear then, my Bucks ! how drunken fate de~ 
 
 creed us 
 For a noeturnal visit to the Meadows, 
 And how we, val'rous champions! durst en- 
 gage— 
 O deed unequall'd — both the Bridge and Cagej 
 The rage of perilous winters which had stood, 
 This 'gainst the wind, and that against the flood ; 
 But what nor wind, nor flood, nor heav'n could 
 
 bend e'er, 
 We tumbl'd down, my Bucks, and made sur- 
 render. 
 What are your far-fam'd warriors to us, 
 'Bout whom historians make such mighty fuss; 
 Posterity may think it was uncommon 
 That Troy should be pillag'd for a woman ; 
 But ours your ten years sieges will excel, 
 And justly be esteem'd the nonpareil. 
 Our cause is slighter than a dame's betrothing, 
 For all these mighty feats have sprung from— 
 nothing. 
 
son a 
 
 WHERE winding Forth adorns the vale, 
 
 Fond Strephon, once a shepherd gay, 
 Did to the rocks his lot bewail, 
 
 And thus addressed his plaintive lay : 
 4i O Julia ! more than lily fair, 
 
 " More blooming than the budding rose, 
 u How can thy breast relentless bear 
 
 u A heart more cold than winter's snows* 
 
 TL 
 
 u Yet nipping winter's keenest sway 
 
 u But for a short-liv'd space prevails; 
 ■ u Spring-time returns and cheers each spray, 
 
 " Scented with Flora's fragrant gales. 
 " Come, Julia, come, thy love obey, 
 
 "Thou mistress of angelic charms! 
 u Come smiling like the morn in May, 
 
 " And center in thy Strephon's arms* 
 
144 
 
 III. 
 
 *< Else haunted by the fiend Despair, 
 
 " He'll court some solitary grove, 
 " Where mortal foot did ne'er repair, 
 
 u But swains oppressed by hapless love 
 u From the once pleasing rural throng 
 
 u Removed, he'll thro' the desart stray, 
 u Where Philomela's mournful song 
 
 " Shall join his melancholy lay/' 
 
SONG, 
 
 AMIDST a rosy bank of flowers, 
 Young Damon moum'd his forlorn fate J 
 
 In sighs he spent his languid hours, 
 And breath' d his woes in lonely state* 
 
 Gay joy no more shall cheer his mind, 
 No wanton sports can soothe his care, 
 
 Since sweet Amanda proved unkind, 
 And left him full of black despair* 
 
 His looks that were as fresh as morn 
 Can now no longer smiles impart ; 
 
 His pensive soul, on sadness born, 
 Is racked and torn by Cupid's dart* 
 
 Turn, fair Amanda ! cheer your swain/ 
 Unshroud him from his veil of Woe ; 
 
 Range every charm to ease the pain 
 That in his tortured breast doth grow* 
 
 N 
 
EPITAPH 
 ON GENERAL WOLFE, 
 
 IN worth exceeding, and in virtue great, 
 Words would want force his actions to relate* 
 Silence, ye bards ! eulogiums vain forbear, 
 Jt is enough to say that Wolfe lies here. 
 
 EPIGRAM 
 
 On the numerous Epitaphs for General Wolfe; for the best i 
 which a, Premium ofDne Hundred Pounds was 'promised. 
 
 THE Muse, a shameless mercenary jade ! 
 Has now assumed the arch-tanguM lawyers 
 
 trade : 
 In Wolfe's deserving praises silent she, 
 Till flattered with the prospect of a fee. 
 
EXTEMPORE, 
 
 On seeing Stanzas addressed to Mrs. Hartley, ComediaiV 
 wherein she is described as resembling Mart, Queen <J£ 
 Scots. 
 
 HARTLEY resembles Scotland's Qus«% 
 
 Some bard enraptured cries ; 
 A flattering bard he is, I ween, 
 
 Or else the Painter lies, 
 
 ON SEEING A LADY PAINT HERSELF, 
 
 WHEN, by some misadventure cross'd, 
 The banker hath his fortune lost, 
 Credit his instant need supplies, 
 And for a moment blinds our eyes : 
 So Delia, when her beauty's flown> 
 Trades on a bottom not her own, 
 And labours to escape detection, 
 By putting on a false complexion, 
 
Off BEING ASKED WHICH QV THREE SISTERS WAS 
 THE MOST BEAUTIEUX. 
 
 WHEN Paris gave his voice, in Ida's grove, 
 For the resistless Venus, queen of love, 
 *Twas no great task to pass a judgment there, 
 Where she alone was exquisitely fair j 
 But here what could his ablest judgment teach, 
 When wisdom, power, and beauty reign in 
 
 each ; 
 The youth, nonplus'd, behov'd to join with me, 
 And wish the apple had been cut in three. 
 
 • 
 
 ON THE DEATH 
 
 OF Mr. THOS. LANCASHIRE, Comedian. 
 
 ALAS, poor Tom ! how oft, with merry heart, 
 Have we beheld thee play the Sexton's part! 
 Each comic heart must now be griev'd to see 
 The Sexton's dreary part performed on thee. 
 
EPIGRAM, 
 
 On seeing* Scales used in a Mason Lodge, 
 
 WHY should the brethren met in Lodge 
 Adopt such aukward measures. 
 
 To set their scales and weights to judge 
 The value of their treasures ? 
 
 The law laid down from age to age f 
 How can they well overcome it ? 
 
 For it forbids them to engage 
 
 With aught but Line and Plummet; 
 
 2$ % 
 
MY LAST WILL. 
 
 WHILE sober folks, in humble prose, 
 
 Estate, and goods, and gear dispose, 
 
 A poet surely may disperse 
 
 His moveables in doggrel verse ; 
 
 And fearing death my blood will fast chill, 
 
 I hereby constitute my last will. 
 
 Then wit ye me to have made o'er 
 To Nature my poetic lore ; 
 To her I give and grant the freedom 
 Of paying to the bards who need ? em 
 As many talents as she gave, 
 When I became the Muse's slave. 
 
 Thanks to the god, who made me poor! 
 No lukewarm Mends molest my door, 
 Who always shew a busy care 
 For being legatee or heir : 
 Of this stamp none will ever follow 
 The youth that's favoured by Apollo. 
 
 But to those few who know my case, 
 Nor thought n. poet's friend disgrace. 
 The following trifles I bequeathe, 
 And leave them with my kindest breath; 
 
Nor wiH I burden them with payment 
 Of debts incurred, or coffin raiment. 
 As yet 'twas never my intent 
 To pass an Irish compliment. 
 
 To Jamie Rae,* who oft jocosus 
 With me partook of cheering doses> 
 I leave my snuff-box to regale 
 His senses after drowsy meal, 
 And wake remembrance of a friend 
 Who lov'd him to his latter end : 
 But if this pledge should make him sorry, 
 And argue like memento mori, 
 He may beqeath't 'mong stubborn fellows, 
 To all the finer feelings callous, 
 Who thinks that parting breath's a sneeze 
 To set sensations all at ease. 
 
 To Oliphant,| my friend, I legate 
 Those scrolls poetic which he may get, 
 With ample freedom to correct 
 Those writs I ne'er could retrospect, 
 With power to him and his succession 
 To print and sell a new impression : 
 And here I fix on Ossian's head 
 A domicile for Doric reed, 
 With as much power ad Musce bona 
 As I in propria persona. 
 
 * Solicitor at law, and the Poet's intonate friend; 
 t Late Bookseller in Edinburgh, 
 
15S 
 
 To Hamilton* I give the task 
 Outstanding debts to crave and ask ; 
 And that my Muse he may not dub ill, 
 For loading him with so much trouble, 
 My debts I leave him singulatim, 
 As they are mostly despevatim. 
 
 To Woods, whose genius can provoke 
 His passions to the bowl or sock, 
 For love to thee, and to the nine, 
 Be my immortal Shakespeare thine : 
 Here may you thro' the alleys turn, 
 Where Falstaff laughs, where heroes moup, 
 And boldly catch the glowing fire 
 That dwells in raptures on his lyre. 
 
 Now at my dirge (If dirge there be ! ) 
 Due to the Muse and poetry 
 Let Hutchison! attend, for none is 
 More fit to guide the ceremonies ; 
 As I in health with him would often 
 This clay-built mansion wash and soften, 
 So let my friends with him partake 
 The gen'rous wine at dirge or wake. — 
 
 And I consent to registration 
 Of this my will for preservation, 
 That patent it may be, and seen 
 In Walter's Weekly Magazine. 
 
 * Solicitor at law, and another of the Poet's friends, 
 f A Tarern keeper. 
 
153 
 
 Witness whereof, these presents wrote are 
 By William Blair, the public notar, 
 And for the tremor of my hand, 
 Are signM by him at my command. 
 
 R, F. x his Mark, 
 
OODICILE 
 TO ROB. FERGUSSON'S LAST WILL, 
 
 WHEREAS, by test'ment, dated blank? 
 
 InrolPd in the poetic tank, 
 
 *Midst brighter themes that weekly come 
 
 To make parade at * Walter's Drum, 
 
 I there, for certain weighty causes, 
 
 Produced some kind bequeathing clauses, 
 
 And left to friends (as 'tis the custom 
 
 With nothing till our death to trust em) 
 
 Some tokens of a pure regard 
 
 From one who liv'd and died a Bard. 
 
 If poverty has any crime in 
 Teaching mankind the art of rhiming, 
 Then, by these presents, know all mortals 
 Who come within the Muse's portals? 
 That I approve my will aforesaid, 
 But think that something might be more said, 
 And only now would humbly seek 
 The liberty to add and eik 
 To testament which already made is, 
 And duly registered, as said is. 
 
 * The Publisher of the Weekly Magazine. 
 
155 
 
 To Tulloch,* who, in kind compassion, 
 Departed from the common fashion, 
 And gave to me, who never paid ii y 
 Two flasks of port upon my credit 9 
 I leave the flasks as full of air 
 As his of ruddy moisture were ; 
 Nor let him to complain begin, 
 He'll get no more of cat than!. skin. 
 
 To Walter Ruddiman, whose pen 
 Still screened me from the Dunce's Den? 
 I leave of phiz a picture, saving 
 To him the freedom of engraving 
 There from a copy to embellish, 
 And give his work a smarter relish ; 
 For prints and frontispieces bind do 
 Our eyes to stationary window, 
 As superfluities in deaths 
 Set off and signalize the beaux ; 
 Not that I think in readers' eyes 
 My visage will be deetir d a prize ; 
 But works that others would out-rival, 
 At glaring copperplates connive all ; 
 And prints do well with him that led is 
 To shun the substance, hunt the shadows^ 
 For if a picture, 'tis enough, 
 A Newton. or a Jamie Buff, f 
 
 * A wine merchant. 
 
 \ Fool who attends to Funerals, 
 
156 
 
 Nor would I recommend to Walter, 
 This scheme of copperplates to alter. 
 Since others at the samen prices 
 Propose to give a dish that nice is, 
 Folks will desert his ordinary, 
 Unless, like theirs, his dishes vary. 
 
 To Williamson,* and his resetters, 
 Dispersing of the burial letters, 
 That they may pass with little cost 
 Fleet on the wings of Penny-Post ; 
 Always providing and declaring, 
 That Peter shall be ever sparing 
 To make, as use is, the demand 
 For letters that may come to hand, 
 To me addressed, while locum tenens 
 Of earth and of corporeal penance; 
 Where, if he fail, it is my will, 
 His legacy is void and null. 
 
 Let honest Greenlaw)* be the staff 
 On which I lean for Ejntaph. 
 And that the Muses at my end 
 May know I had a learned friend, 
 Whatever of character he's seen 
 In me thro' humour or chagrin, 
 I crave his genius may narrate in 
 The strength of Ciceronian Latin. 
 
 * The Penny-Post Master. 
 
 f An excellent Classical Scholar* 
 
157 
 
 Reserving to myself the pow'r 
 To alter this at latest hour, 
 Cum privilegio revocave 
 Without assigning ratio quare : 
 And I (as in the will before did) 
 Consent this deed shall be recorded : 
 In testimonium cujus rei. 
 These presents are delivered by 
 
 R, FERGUSSON. 
 
 EfrB OF PAftT FIRSTS 
 
 o 
 
POEMS 
 
 ON VARIOUS SUBJECTS 
 
 PART IL 
 
 AN ECLOGUE. 
 
 >TWAS evening whan the spreckled gowd- 
 
 spink sang, 
 Whan new-fa'en dew in blobs o> chrystal hang ; 
 Than Will and Sandie thought they'd wrought 
 
 eneugh, 
 And loosed their sair toil'd owsen frae the 
 
 pleugh : 
 Before they caM their beasts unto the town, 
 The lads to draw their breath e'en sat them 
 
 down : 
 To the stiff sturdy aik they lean their backs, 
 While honest Sandy thus begins the cracks. 
 San. Aince I could hear the laverocks shrilL 
 
 tun'd throat, 
 And listen to the clatlering gowdspink's note ; 
 
160 
 
 Ainee I could whistle cantily as they, 
 To owsen, as they tilled my ruggit clay ; 
 But now I wou'd as leive maist lend my lugs 
 To tuneless puddocks croaking i' the bogs ; 
 I sigh at hame, a-field am dowie too, 
 To sowf a tune I'll never crook my mou. 
 
 Wil. Foul fa me gif your bridal had na been 
 Nae langer bygane than sin' Hallow-e'en, 
 I cou'd hae tell'd you but a warlock's art, 
 That some daft lyghtlyin quean had stow'n 
 
 your heart ; 
 Our beisties here will tak their e'ening pluck, 
 An' now sin' Jock's gane hame the byres to 
 
 muck, 
 Fain would I houp my friend will be inclin'd 
 To gie me a' the secrets o' his mind : 
 Heh! Sandie, lad, what dool's come owr ye 
 
 now, 
 That you to whistle ne'er will crook your mou. 
 San. Ah ! Willie, Willie, I may date my 
 
 wae 
 Frae what beted me on my bridal day; 
 Sair may I rue the hour in which our hands 
 Were knit thegither in the haly bands ; 
 Sin' that I thrave sae ill, in troth I fancy, 
 Some fiend or fairy, nae sae very chancy, 
 Has driven me, by pauky wiles uncommon, 
 To wed this fliting fury of a woman. 
 
 
161 
 
 Wil. Ah ! Sandie, aften hae I heard you tell, 
 Amang the lasses a' she bure the bell ; 
 And say, the modest glances o' her ein 
 Far dang the brightest beauties o' the green; 
 You ca'd her ay sae innocent, sae young, 
 1 thought she kent na how to use her tongue. 
 
 San. Before I married her, I'll tak my aith, 
 
 Jler tongue was never louder than her breath ; 
 
 But now its turned sae souple and sae bauld, 
 
 Tha Job himsell could scarcely thole the scauldo 
 
 Wil. Lat her yelp on, be you as calm's a 
 
 mouse, 
 Nor let your whisht be heard into the house; 
 Do what she can, or be as loud's she please, 
 Ne'er mynd her flytes, but set your heart at 
 
 ease* 
 SH down and blaw your pipe, nor faush your 
 
 thumb, 
 An' there's my hand she'll tire, and soon sing 
 
 dumb; 
 Sooner shou'd Winter's cold confine the sea, 
 An' lat the sma'est o' our burns rin free : 
 Sooner at Yule-day shall the birk be drest, 
 Or birds in sapless busses big their nest, 
 Before a tonguey woman's noisy plea 
 Shou'd ever be a cause to danton me. 
 
 San. Weel cou'd I this abide, but oh M fear 
 I'll soon be twin'd o' a' my warldly gear ;., 
 
 O XL 
 
162 
 
 My kirnstaff now stands gizzen'd at the door, 
 My cheese-rack toom that ne'er was toom be- 
 fore; 
 My ky may now rin rowtin' to the hill, 
 And on the naked yird their milkness spill ; 
 She seenil lays her hand upon a turn, 
 Neglects the kebbuck, and forgets the kirn ; 
 I vow my hair- mould milk would poison dogs, 
 As it stands lapper'd in the dirty cogs. 
 
 Before the seed I sell'd my ferra cow, 
 An' wi' the profit coft a stane o' woo' : 
 I thought, by priggin', that she might hae spun 
 A plaidie, light, to screen me frae the sun ; 
 But tho' the siller's scant, the deed in' dear, 
 She has na ca'd about a wheel the year. 
 Last ouk but ane I was frae hame a day, 
 Buying a tlmeve or twa o' bedding strae : 
 O' ilka thing the woman had her will, 
 Had fouth o' meal to bake, and hens to kill : 
 But hyn awa' to Edinbrough scour d she 
 To get a making o' her fav 'rite tea ; 
 And 'cause I left her nae the weary clink, 
 She pawn'd the very trunchers frae my bink. 
 Wih Her tea ! ah ! wae betide sic costly 
 gear, 
 Or them that ever wad the price o't spear. 
 Sin' my auld gutchcr first the warld knew, 
 Fouk bad na found the Indies whare it grew, 
 
163 
 
 I mind mysell, it?s nae sae lang sin 9 syne, 
 Wlian Antie Marion did her stamack tyne, 
 That I)avs our gard'ner came frae Jlpple-bog, 
 An 9 ga'e her tea to tack by way o' drog. 
 Sari. Whan ilka herd for cauld his fingers 
 
 rubs, 
 An* cakes o' ice are seen upo' the dubs ; 
 At morning, whan frae pleugh or fauld I come, 
 I'll see a bra' reek rising frae my lum, 
 An 7 ablins think to get a rantin blaze, 
 To fley the frost awa', and tost my taes ; 
 But whan I shoot my nose in, ten to ane 
 If I weelfardly see my ane hearthstane ; 
 She round the ingle wi J her gimmers sits, 
 Orammin' their gabbies wi' her nicest bits, 
 While the gudeman out-by maun fill his crap 
 Frae the milk coggie, or the parntch cap. 
 
 Wil. Sandy, gif this were ony common plea, 
 I shou'd the lealest o' my counsel gie ; 
 But mak or middle betwixt man an' wife; 
 Is what I never did in a' my life. 
 It's wearin' on now to the tail o' May, 
 An' just between the beer-seed and the hay ; 
 As lang's an orrow morning may be spar'd, 
 Stap your wa's east the haugh, an' tell the 
 
 laird ; 
 For he's a man weel vers'd in a' the laws, 
 Kens baith their oijts an' ins, their cracks an' 
 
 ftawsj 
 
164 
 
 An' ay right gleg, whan things are out o' joint, 
 At sattlin o' a nice or kittle point. 
 But yonder's Jock, he'll ca' your owsen hame. 
 And tak thir tidings to your thrawart dame, 
 That ye're awa ? ae peacefu' meal to prie, 
 An' tak your supper kail or sow'ns wi' me. 
 
AN ECLOGUE. 
 
 To the Memory of Dr. William Wilkie, late Professor of Natu- 
 ral Philosophy in the University of St. Andrew's, 
 
 GEORDIE AND DAVIE, 
 
 GEORDIE. 
 
 BLAW saft, my reed, and kindly to my maen, 
 Weel may ye thole a saft an' dowie strain ; 
 Nae mair to you shall shepherds in a ring, 
 Wi' bly thness skip, or lasses lilt an' sing ; 
 Sic sorrow now maun sadden ilka eie, 
 An' ilka waefu' shepherd grieve wi' me. 
 
 Dav. Wharefor begin a sad an 9 dowie strain*, 
 Or banish lilting frae the Fifan plain ? 
 Tho' simmer's gane an' we nae langer view 
 The blades o' claver wat wi' pearls o' dew, 
 Cauld Winter's bleakest blasts we'll eithly 
 
 cowr, 
 Our eldin's driven, an' our har'st is owr ; 
 Our rucks fu' thick are sUckit i' the yard, 
 For the Yule-feast a sautit mart's prepar'd ; 
 The ingle-nook supplies the simmer fields, 
 An' aft as mony gleefu' maments yields. 
 
166 
 
 Swyth man! fling a> your sleepy springs awa'. 
 An' on your canty whistle gies a blaw : 
 Blythness, I trow, maun lighten ilka eie, 
 An' ilka canty callant sing like me. 
 
 Geo. Na, na ! a canty spring wad now im- 
 part 
 Just threefald sorrow to my heavy heart. 
 Thof to the weet my ripen' d aits had fawn, 
 Or shake-winds owr my rigs wi' pith had 
 
 blawn, 
 To this I cou'd hae said, u I carena by,** 
 Nor fund occasion now my cheeks to dry. 
 Crosses like thae, or lake o' warld's gear, 
 Are nathing whan we tyne a friend that's dear, 
 Ah ! waes me for you, Willie ! mony a day 
 Did I wi' you on yon bropm-thackit brae 
 Hound aff my sheep, an' lat them careless gam* 
 To harken to your cheary tale or sang ; 
 Sangs that for ay, on Caledonia strand, 
 Shall sit the foremost 'mang her tunefu' band. 
 
 1 dreamt yestreen his deadly wraith I saw 
 Gang by my ein as white's the driven snaw ; 
 My colley, Ringie, youf'd an' yowl'd a night, 
 Cour'd an' crap near me in an unco fright, 
 I waken'd fley'd, an' shook baith lith and limb; 
 A cauldness took me, an' my sight grew dim: 
 I kcnt that it forspack approachin' wae 
 When my poor doggie was disturbit sae. 
 
167 
 
 JSTae sooner did the day begin to dawn, 
 Than I beyont the know fu r speedy ran, 
 Whare I was keppit wP the heavy tale 
 That sets ilk dowie sangster to bewail. 
 JDav* An 5 wha on Fifan bents can weel re- 
 fuse 
 To gie the tear o ? tribute to his Muse? — 
 Fareweel ilk cheery spring, ilk canty note, 
 Be daffin an' ilk idle play forgot; 
 Bring, ilka herd, the mournful mournfu' 
 
 boughs, 
 Rosemary sad, and ever dreary yews j 
 Thae let be steepit V the saut, saut tear, 
 To weet wi' liallow'd draps his sacred bier, 
 Whase sangs will ay in Scotland be rever'd, 
 While slow-gawn owsen turn the flow'ry 
 
 swaird; 
 While bonny Iambics lick the dews of spring, 
 While gaudsmen whistle, or while birdies sins:, 
 Geo. 'Twas na for weel tim'd verse or sangs 
 alane 
 He bore the bell frae ilka shepherd swain, 
 Nature to Jiim had gi'en a kindly lore, 
 Deep a ? her mystic ferlies to explore : 
 For 2l her secret workings he could gie 
 Reasons that wi ? her principles agree. 
 Ye saw yoursel how weel his mailiw? thrave, 
 Ay better* faugh'd an' snodit than the lave j 
 
168 
 
 Lang had the thristles an' the dockans been 
 In use to wag their taps upo' the green, 
 Whare now his bonny rigs delight the view, 
 An' thriving hedges drink the caller dew.* 
 Dav. They tell me, Geordie, he had sic a 
 
 gift, 
 That scarce a starnie blinkit frae the lift, 
 But he wou'd some auld warld name for't find, 
 As gart him keep it freshly in his mind : 
 For this some ca'd him an uncanny wight; 
 The clash gaed round, "he had the second 
 
 sight ;" 
 A tale that never fail'd to be the pride 
 O' grannies spinnin' at the ingle-side. 
 
 Geo. But now he's gane, an' Fame, that 
 
 whan alive, 
 Seenil lats ony o' her vot'ries thrive, 
 Will frae his shinin' name a' motes withdraw* 
 And on her loudest trump his praises blaW. 
 Lang may his sacred banes untroubled rest ! 
 Lang may his truff in gowatig gay be drest ! 
 Scholars and bards unheard of yet shall come, 
 And stamp memorials on his grassy tomb, 
 Which in yon ancient kirk-yard shall remain, 
 Fam*d as the urn that hads the Mantuan 
 
 swain. 
 
 * Dr. Wilkie had a farm near St. Andrew^, on which he made 
 improvements, 
 
ELEGY, 
 
 On the Death of Mr. David Gregory, late Professor of Mathe- 
 matics in the University of St. Andrew's. 
 
 NOW mourn, ye college masters a' ! 
 An' frae your ein a tear let fa', 
 Fam'd Gregory death has ta'en awa' 
 
 Without remeid ; 
 The skaith ye've met wi's nae that sma', 
 
 Sin' Gregory's dead. 
 
 The students too will miss him sair, 
 To school them weel his eident care. 
 Now they may mourn for ever mair, 
 
 They hae great need j 
 They'll hip the maist fek o' their lear. 
 
 Sin' Gregory's dead. 
 
 He could, by Euclid, prove lang sine 
 A ganging point compos'd a line ; 
 By numbers too he could divine, 
 
 Whan he did read, 
 That three times three just made up nine ; 
 
 But now he's dead. 
 P 
 
170 
 
 la Algebra weel skill'd he was, 
 An' kent fu' weel proportion's laws ; 
 He cou'd mak clear baith B's and A's 
 
 Wi' his lang head ; 
 Bin owr surd roots but cracks or flaws ; 
 
 But now he's dead. 
 
 Weel vers'd was he in architecture, 
 
 An' kent the nature of the sector, 
 
 Upo' baith globes he weel cou'd lecture, 
 
 An' gar's tak heed ; 
 0' geometry he was the Hector; 
 
 But now he's dead, 
 
 Sae weel's he'd fley the students a', 
 Whan they were skelpin' at the ba', 
 They took leg-bail, and ran awa' 
 
 Wi' pith an' speed ; 
 We winna get a sport sae bra', 
 
 Sin' Gregory's dead* 
 
 Great 'casion hae we a' to weep, 
 An' deed our skins in ruournm' deep 
 For Gregory death will fairly keep 
 
 To tak his nap ; 
 He'll till the resurrection sleep 
 
 As sound's a tap* 
 
THE DAFT DAYS, 
 
 NOW mirk December's dowie face, 
 Glowrs owr the rigs wi' sour grimace^ 
 While ; thro' his minimum o' space, 
 
 The bleer-ey'd sun, 
 Wi' blinkin light and stealing pace, 
 
 His race doth run. 
 
 Frae naked groves nae birdie sings, 
 To shepherd's pipe nae hillock ring?, 
 The breeze nae od'rous flavour brings 
 
 Frae Borean cave, 
 And dwynin Nature droops her wings, 
 
 Wi ? visage grave. 
 
 Mankind but scanty pleasure glean 
 Frae snawy hill or barren plain, 
 Whan Winter, 'midst his nipping train, 
 
 Wi' frozen spear, 
 Bends drift owr a' his bleak domain, 
 
 And guides the weir. 
 
172' 
 
 Jluld Meikie I thou'rt the canty hole, 
 A bield for mony a cauldrife soul, • 
 Wha snugly at thine ingle loll, 
 
 Baith warm and couth ; 
 While round they gar the bicker roll, 
 
 To weet their mouth. 
 
 Whan merry Yule-day comes, I trow, 
 You'll scantlins fin' a hungry mou ; 
 Sma' are our cares, our stamacks fou 
 
 O' gusty gear, 
 An' kickshaws, strangers to our view 
 
 Sin' Fairn-year. 
 
 Ye browster wives, now busk ye bra', 
 An' fling your sorrows far awa' ; 
 Then come an' gie's the tither blaw 
 
 O' reaming ale, 
 Mair precious than the well o' Spa, 
 
 Our hearts to heal. 
 
 Then, tho> at odds wi' a' the warl', 
 Amang oursels we'll never quarrel ; 
 Tho' Discord gie a canker'd snarl 
 
 To spoil our glee, 
 As lang's there pith into the barrel 
 
 We'll drink an 1 'gree. 
 
173 
 
 Metiers, your pins in temper fix. 
 And roset weel your fiddle-sticks, 
 But banish vile Italian tricks 
 
 Frae out your quorum, 
 Nov fortes wi ? pianos mix, 
 
 Gie's Tulloch-Gorum* 
 
 For nought can cheer the heart sac well 
 As can a canty Highland reel, 
 It even vivifies the heel 
 
 To skip and dance : 
 Lifeless is he wha canna feel 
 
 Its influence. 
 
 Let mirth abound, let social cheer 
 Invest the dawning of the year ; 
 Let blithesome innocence appear 
 
 To crown our joy, 
 Nor e&vy, wi ? sarcastic sneer, 
 
 Our bliss destroy. 
 
 And thou, great god of Jtqua Vitcel 
 Wha sways the empire o' this city, 
 When fou we're sometimes capernoity, 
 
 Be thou prepared 
 To hedge us frae that black blanditti^ 
 
 The City-Guard, 
 P % 
 
THE KING'S BIRTH-DAY, 
 IN EDINBURGH. 
 
 Oh* qualis hurly-burly fuit, si forte vidisses. 
 
 POLEMO-MIDDINIA* 
 
 I SING the day sae aften sung, 
 Wi' which our lugs hae yearly rung, 
 In whase loud praise the Muse has dung 
 
 A' kind o ? print ; 
 But wow I the limmer's fairly flung ; 
 
 There's nathing in't 
 
 Fm fain to think the joy's the same 
 In London town as here at hame, 
 Whare fouk o' ilka age and name, 
 
 Baith blind an' cripple., 
 Forgather aft, fy for shame ! 
 
 To drink an' tipple. 
 
 O Muse, be kind, an' dinna fash us 
 To flee awa' beyont Parnassus, 
 Nor seek for Helicon to wash us, 
 
 That heath'nish spring; 
 Wi' Highland whisky scour our hawses, 
 
 An' gar us sing. 
 
175 
 
 Begin then, dame, ye've drunk your fill, 
 You woudna hae the tither gill ? 
 You'll trust me, mair would do you ill, 
 
 An ? ding you doitet : 
 Troth 'twould be sair against my will 
 
 To hae the wyte o't. 
 
 Sing then, how, on the fourth of June, 
 Our bells screed aff a loyal tune, 
 Our ancient castle shoots at noon, 
 
 WP flag-staff buskit, 
 Frae which the soger blades come down 
 
 To cock their musket. 
 
 Oh willawins ! Mons Meg, for you, 
 ; Twas firing crack't thy muckle mou $ 
 What black mishanter gart ye spew 
 
 Baith gut and ga' ! 
 I fear they bang M thy belly fu' 
 
 Against the law. 
 
 Right seenil am I gi'en to bannin, 
 But, by my saul, ye was a cannon, 
 Cou'd hit a man had he been stanuin 
 
 In shire o' Fife, 
 Sax lang Scots miles ayont Clackmannan? 
 
 An 9 - tack his life,. 
 
176 
 
 The hills in terror wou'd cry out, 
 
 An' echo to thy dinsome rout ; 
 
 The herds wou'd gather in their nowi, 
 
 That glowr'd wi' wonder, 
 Haflins afley'd to bide thereout 
 
 To hear thy thunder. 
 
 Sing likewise, Muse, how blue-gown bodies, 
 Like scar-seraws new ta'en down frae woodies. 
 Come here to cast their clouted duddies, 
 
 An' get their pay : 
 Than them what magistrates mair proud i& 
 
 On king's birth-day? 
 
 On this great day the city-guard, 
 
 In military art weel lear'd, 
 
 Wi' powder'd pow and shaven beard. 
 
 Gang thro' their functions, 
 By hostile rabble seldom spar'd 
 
 O' clarty unctions. 
 
 O soldiers/ for your ain clear sakes, 
 For Scotland's, alias Land of Cakes , 
 Gie not her bairns sic deadly pakes, 
 
 Nor be sae rude, 
 "tfa* firelock or Lochaber aix, 
 
 . As spill their blade*. 
 
177 
 
 Now round an* round the serpents whiz, 
 Wi' hissing wrath and angry phiz ; 
 Sometimes they catch a gentle gizz y 
 
 Alack- a-d ay ! 
 An' singe wi' hair-devouring bizz, 
 
 Its curls away. 
 
 Should th' owner patiently keek rounds 
 To view the nature o' his wound. 
 Dead pussie, draggled thro' the pond, 
 
 Taks him a lounder, 
 Whilk lays his honour on the ground 
 
 As flat's a flounder. 
 
 The Muse maun also now implore 
 Auld wives to steek ilk hole an' bore S 
 If badrains slip but to the door. 
 
 I fear, I fear, 
 She'll nae lang shank upo' all four 
 
 This time o' year. 
 
 Neist day ilk hero tells his news, 
 O' craekit crowns and broken brows, 
 An' deeds that here forbid the Muse 
 
 Her theme to swell, 
 Or time mair precious abuse 
 
 Their crimes to telL 
 
178 
 
 SKe'll rather to the fields resort, 
 Whare music gars the day seem short, 
 Whare doggies play, and lambies sport, 
 
 On gowany braes, 
 Whare peerless Faney hads her court, 
 
 And ^unes he* lays. 
 
CALLER OYSTERS, 
 
 Happy the man who, free from care and strife 3 
 In silken or in leathern purse retains 
 A splendid shilling". He nor hears with pain 
 New Otsteks cry'd, nor sighs for cheerful ale, 
 
 Phillip 
 
 O' A' the waters that can hobble 
 A fishing yole or sa'mon coble. 
 An' can reward the fisher's trouble,* 
 
 Or south or north, 
 There's nane sae spacious an' sae noble 
 
 As Frith o' Forth. 
 
 In her the skate an' codlin sail, 
 The eel fu' souple wags her tail, 
 Wi' herrin, fleuk, and mackarel, 
 
 An' whitens dainty : 
 Their spindle-shanks the labsters trail, 
 
 Wi' par tans plenty. 
 
 Auld Hei&ie's sons blithe faces wear j 
 September's merry month is near, 
 That brings in Neptune's caller cheer, 
 New oysters fresh ; 
 
180 
 
 The halesomest and nicest gear 
 ? fish or flesh. 
 
 O ! then we needna gie a plack 
 For dandling mountebank or quack, 
 Wha' o' their drogs sae baldly crack, 
 
 An' spred sic notions, 
 As gar their feckless patients tak 
 
 Their stinkin potions. 
 
 Come prie, frail man ! for gin thou art sick, 
 The oyster is a rare cathartic, 
 As ever doctor patient gart lick 
 
 To cure his ails ; 
 Whether you hae the head or heart ake, 
 
 It ay prevails. 
 
 Ye tiplers, open a' your poses, 
 
 Ye wha are fash'd wF plucky noses, 
 
 Fling owr your craig sufficient doses, 
 
 You'll thole a bunder. 
 To fleg awa ? your simmer roses, 
 
 An ? naething under. 
 
 Whan big as burns the gutters rin, 
 Gin ye hae catch t a droukit skin, 
 To Lucky Middlemisfs loup in, 
 An' sit fu' snus 
 
181 
 
 Owr oysters an' a dram o' gin, 
 
 Or haddock lug. 
 
 Whan auld Saunt Giles, at aught o'clock, 
 Gars merchant lowns their shopies lock. 
 There we adjourn wi' hearty fock 
 
 To birle our bodies, 
 An* get wharewi' to crack our joke, 
 
 An' clear our noddles. 
 
 Whan Phoebus did his windocks steek, 
 How aften at that ingle cheek 
 Did I my frosty fingers beek, 
 
 An' prie gude fare ! 
 I trow there was na hame to seek 
 
 Whan steghin there. 
 
 While glakit fools, owr rife o' cash, 
 Pamper their weyms wi' fousom trash, 
 I think a chiel may gayly pass ; 
 
 He's nae ill boden 
 That gusts his gab wi' oyster sauce, 
 
 An' hen weel foden. 
 
 At Musselbrough, an' eke JSTewhaven, 
 The fisher-wives will get top livin, 
 Whan lads gang out on Sundays' even 
 To treat their joes, 
 
18® 
 
 An 9 tak o' fat patidores a prieven, 
 Or mussel brose. 
 
 Than sometimes, 'ere they flit their doup^ 
 They'll ablins ^a' their siller coup 
 For liquor clear frae cutty stoup, 
 
 To weet their wizzen, 
 An' swallow owr a dainty soup, 
 
 For fear they gizzen. 
 
 A' ye wha canna staun sae sicker, 
 
 Whan twice you've toom'd the big-ars'd bicker? 
 
 Mix caller oysters wi' your liquor, 
 
 An' Fm your debtor, 
 If greedy priest or drowthy vicar 
 
 Will thole it better. 
 
JBKAID OLAITH. 
 
 YE wha are fain to hae your name 
 Wrote P the bonny book o 9 Fame, 
 Let Merit nae pretension claim 
 
 To laurePd wreath, 
 But hap ye weel, baith back an' wame, 
 
 In gude Braid Claithu 
 
 He that some ells o' this may fa f , 
 An' slae-black hat on pow like snaw, 
 Bids bauld to bear the 'gree awa', 
 
 WP a' this graith, 
 Whan bienly clad wi' shell fu' braw 
 
 0' gude Braid Claith. 
 
 Whasuck for him wha has nae feck o't ! 
 For he's a gowk they're sure to geek at, 
 A chiel that ne'er will be respekit, 
 
 While he draws breath, 
 Till his four quarters are bedeckit 
 
 WP gude Braid Claith, 
 
 On Sabbath-days the barber spark, 
 Whan he has done wP scrapia warfe^ 
 
18* 
 
 WV siller broaebie in his sark, 
 
 Gangs trigly, faith ! 
 
 Or to the Meadow, or the Park, 
 
 In gude Braid Claith. 
 
 Weel might ye trow, to see them there, 
 That they to shave your haffits bare, 
 Or curl an' sleek a pickle hair, 
 
 Would be right laith, 
 Whan pacing wP a gavvsy air 
 
 In gude Braid Claith. 
 
 If ony mettPd stirrah green 
 For favour frae a lady's een, 
 He maunna care for bein' seen 
 
 Before he sheath 
 His body in a scabbard clean 
 
 0> gude Braid Claith. 
 
 For, gin he come wP coat-thread bare, 
 
 A feg for him she winna care, 
 
 But crook her bonny mou' fou' sair, 
 
 And scald him baith : 
 Wooers shou'd ay their traval spare 
 
 Without Braid Claith. 
 
 Braid Claith lends fock an unco heese, 
 Makes mony kail- worms butterflies, 
 
185 
 
 Gies mony a doctor his degrees 
 For little skaith : 
 
 In short, you may be what you please 
 Wi> gude Braid Claith, 
 
 For thof ye had as wise a snout on 
 As Shakespeare or Sir Isaac Newton, 
 Your judgment fouk would hae a doubt o% 
 
 I'll tack my aith, 
 Till they cou'd see ye wi ? a suit on 
 
 (V gude Braith Claitho 
 
 Q 2- 
 
ELEGY 
 ON THE DEATH OF SCOTS MUSig. 
 
 Mark it, Csesario ; it is old and plain, 
 
 The spinsters and the knitters in the sun, 
 
 And the free maids that weave their thread with bones 
 
 Do use to chant it. 
 
 Shakespeare's Twelfth Night, 
 
 ON Scotia's plains, in days of yore, 
 When lads and lasses tartan wore, 
 Saft Music rang on ilka shore, 
 
 In hamely weid ; 
 But Harmony is now no more, 
 
 And Music dead, 
 
 Hound her the feather'd choir would wing, 
 
 Sae bonnily she wont to sing, 
 
 And sleely wake the sleeping string, 
 
 Their sang to lead, 
 Sweet as the zephyrs o' the spring ; 
 
 But now s^e's dead. 
 
187 
 
 Mourn ilka nymph and ilka swain, 
 
 Ilk sunny hill and dowie glen ; 
 
 Let weeping streams and Naiads drain 
 
 Their fountain head ; 
 Let Echo swell the dolefu' strain 
 
 Sin' Music's dead* 
 
 Whan the saft vernal breezes ca' 
 The grey-hair'd Winter's fogs awa ? ; 
 Naebody than is heard to blaw, 
 
 Near hill or mead, 
 On chaunter or on aiten straw, 
 
 Sin' music's dead. 
 
 Nae lasses now, on simmer days, 
 Will lilt at bleaching o' their claes ; 
 Kae herds on Yarrow' s { bonny braes, 
 
 Or banks o' Tweed, 
 Delight to chaunt their hameil laya, 
 
 Sin' music's dead. 
 
 At glomln now the bagpipe's dumb, 
 Whan weary owsen liameward come ; 
 Sae sweetly as it wont to bum. 
 
 And Pibrachs skreed ; 
 We never hear its weirlike hum, 
 
 For music's dead 
 
188 
 
 Macgibbon's gane : Ah ! waes my heart ! 
 The man in music maist expert, 
 Wha cou'd sweet melody impart, 
 
 And tune the reed, 
 Wi' sic a slee and pawky art ; 
 
 But now he's dead. 
 
 Ilk carline now may grunt and grane, 
 Ilk bonny lassie make great mane, 
 Sin' he's awa, I trow there's nane 
 
 Can fill his stead ; 
 The blythest sangster on the plain, 
 
 Alack, is dead ! 
 
 Now foreign sonnets bear the gree, 
 
 And crabbit queer variety 
 
 O' sounds fresh sprung frae Italy;, 
 
 A bastard breed ! 
 Unlike that saft-tongu'd melody 
 
 Whilk now lies dead. 
 
 Cou'd lav'roclcs at the dawning day, 
 Cou'd Unties chinning frae the spray, 
 Or todling burns that smoothly play 
 
 O'er gowden bed, 
 Compare wi' Birks of Jndermay? 
 
 But now they're dead. 
 
189 
 
 Scotland ! that cou'd yence afford 
 To bang the pith o> Roman sword, 
 Winna your sons, wP joint accord, 
 
 To battle speed, 
 And fight till Music be restored, 
 
 Whilk now lies dead. 
 
HALLOW-PAIR. 
 
 AT Hallowmas, whan nights grow lang. 
 
 And starnies shine fu' clear, 
 Whan fock, the nippin cauld to bang, 
 
 Their winter hapwarms wear ; 
 Near Edinburgh a fair there hads, 
 
 I wat there's nane whase name is, 
 For strappin dames and sturdy lads, 
 
 And cap and stoup, mair famous 
 
 Than it that day. 
 
 Upo' the tap o' ilka lum 
 
 The sun began to keek, 
 And bad the trig-made maidons come 
 
 A sightly joe to seek 
 At Hallow-fair, whare browsters rare 
 
 Keep gude ale on the gantries, 
 And dinna scrimp ye o 9 a skair 
 
 O' kebbucks frae their pantries 
 
 Fu' saut that day* 
 
 Here country John in bannet blue, 
 An' eke his Sunday's claes on, 
 
 Bins after Meg wi' rokelay new, 
 An' sappy kisses lays on ; 
 
IQi 
 
 She'll tauntin say, Ye silly coofr 
 
 Be o' your gab mair sparin 5 
 He'll tak the hint, and criesh her loof 
 
 Wi' what will buy her fairin, 
 
 To chow that day. 
 
 Here chapmen billies tak their stand, 
 
 An' shaw their bonny wallies; 
 Wow, but they lie fu' gleg aff hand 
 
 To trick the silly fallows : 
 Heh, Sirs ! what cairds and tinklers come, 
 
 An* ne'er-do-weel horse-coupers, 
 An' spae-wives fenzying to be dumb, 
 
 Wi' a' siclike landloupers, 
 
 To thrive that day. 
 
 Here Sawny cries, frae Aberdeen, 
 
 " Come ye to me fa need : 
 N The brawest shanks that e'er were seen 
 
 U I'll sell ye cheap an' guid. 
 " I wy t they are as protty hose 
 
 " As come frae weyer or leem: 
 " Here tak a rug, an' shaw's your pose ; 
 
 " Forseeth my ain's but teem 
 
 "An' light the day. '* 
 
 te wives, as ye gang thro' the fair, 
 O mak your bargains hooly ! 
 
0> a> thir wylie lowns beware, 
 
 Or fegs they will ye spulzie. 
 For fairn-year Meg Thamson got, 
 
 Frae thir mischievous villains, 
 A scaw'd bit o' a penny note, 
 
 That lost a score o' shilling 
 
 To her that day. 
 
 The dinlin drums alarm our ears, 
 
 The serjeant screech fu' loud, 
 " A ? gentlemen and volunteers 
 
 " That wish your country gude, 
 u Come here to me, and I sail gie 
 
 " Twa guineas an' a crown, 
 u A bowl o* punch that like the sea 
 
 " Will soum a lang dragoon 
 
 " Wi* ease this day/** 
 
 Without the cuissers prance and nicker, 
 
 An' o'er the ley-rig scud ; 
 In tents the carles bend the bicker, 
 
 An' rant an' roar like wud. 
 Than there's sic yellowchin and din, 
 
 Wi' wives and wee-anes gablin, 
 That ane might trow they were a-kin 
 
 To a' the tongues at Babylon, 
 
 Confused that day. 
 
193 
 
 Whan Phoebus ligs in Thetis 9 lap, 
 
 Auld Reikie gies them shelter, 
 Whare cadgily they kiss the cap, 
 
 An' ca't round helter-skelter. 
 Jock Bell gaed furth to play his freaks, 
 
 Great cause he had to rue it, 
 For frae a stark Lochaber aix 
 
 He gat a clamehewit, 
 
 Fix 9 sair that night. 
 
 "Ohon!" quo 5 he, "Fd rather be 
 
 " By sword or bagnet stickit, 
 "Than hae my crown or body wi f 
 
 " Sic deadly weapons nickit." 
 Wi' that he gat anither straik 
 
 Mair weighty than before, 
 That gar'd his feckless body aik, 
 
 An' spew the reikin gore, 
 
 Fu' red that night. 
 
 He peching on the cawsey lay, 
 
 O' kicks and cuffs weel sair'd ; 
 A Highland aith the serjeant gae, 
 
 " She maun pe see our guard." 
 Out spak the weirlike corpotal, 
 
 f * Pring in ta drucken sot." 
 They traiPd him ben, an' by my saul, 
 
 He paid his drucken groat 
 
 For that neist day 
 R 
 
19* 
 
 Gude fock, as ye come frae the fair, 
 
 Bide yont frae this black squad ; 
 There's nae sic savages elsewhere 
 
 Allow'd to wear cockade. 
 Than the strong lion's hungry maw, 
 
 Or tusk o' Russian bear, 
 Frae their wanruly fellin paw 
 
 Mair cause ye hae to fear 
 
 Your death that day, 
 
 A wee soup drink dis unco weel 
 
 To had the heart aboon ; 
 It's gude as lang's a canny chiel 
 
 Can stand steeve in his shoon. 
 But gin a birkie's owr weel saird, 
 
 It gars him aften stammer 
 To pleys that bring him to the guard, 
 
 An' eke the CoiinciLchaumir % 
 
 Wi' shame that day. 
 
ODE TO THE BEE. 
 
 HEEDS , blythcsome tune your canty reecte? 
 
 An ? welcome to the gowany meads 
 
 The pride o' a' the insect thrang, 
 
 A stranger to the green sae lang ; 
 
 Unfald ilk buss an' ilka brier, 
 
 The bounties o ? the gle^some year, 
 
 To him whase voice delights the spring, 
 
 Whase soughs the fastest slumbers bring. 
 
 The trees in simmer-cleething drest, 
 The hillocks in their greenest vest, 
 The brawest flowers rejoiced we see, 
 Disclose their sweets, and ca' on thee, 
 JBlythely to skim on wanton wing 
 Thro* a' the fairy haunts o ? spring. 
 
 Whan fields hae got their dewy gift, 
 An' dawnin breaks upo' the lift, 
 Then gang your wa's thro' hight an' how r 
 Seek caller haugh or sunny know, 
 Or ivy'd craig, or burn-bank brae, 
 Whare Industry shall bid you gae, 
 For hiney, or for waxen store, 
 To ding sad poortith frae the door. 
 
196 
 
 Cou'd feckless creature, Man, be wise, 
 The simmer o' his life to prize, 
 In winter he might fend fu' bauld, 
 His eild unkend to nippen cauld, 
 Yet thir, alas ! are antrin fock 
 That lade their scape wi' winter stock. 
 Auld age maist feckly glowrs right dour 
 Upo' the ailings o' the poor, 
 Wha hope for nae comforting, save 
 That dowie dismal house the grave* 
 Then feeble Man, be wise, tak tent 
 How Industry can fetch content : 
 Behad the bees whare'er they wing, 
 Or thro' the bonny bowers o' spring, 
 Whare vi'leis or whare roses blaw> 
 An' siller dew-draps nightly fa', 
 Or whan on open bent they're seen, 
 On hether hill or thristle green ; 
 The hiney's still as sweet that flows 
 Frae thistle cauld, or kendling rose. 
 
 Frae this the human race may learn 
 Reflection's hiney'd draps to earn, 
 Whether they tramp life's thorny way, 
 Or thro' the sunny vineyard stray. 
 
 Instructive bee ! attend me still, 
 Owr a' my labours sey your skill : 
 For thee shall hiney-suckles rise^ 
 Wi' lading to your busy thighs, 
 
197 
 
 An' ilka shrub surround my cell, 
 Whareon ye like to hum an' dwell : 
 My trees in bourachs owr my ground 
 Shall fend ye frae ilk blast o' wind : 
 Nor e'er shall herd, wi' ruthless spike, 
 Delve out the treasures frae your bike, 
 But in my fence be safe, an' free 
 To live, an' work, an 9 sing like me. 
 
 Like thee, by fancy wing'd, the Muse 
 Scuds ear' an' heartsome owr the dews, 
 Fu' vogie, an' fu' blythe to crap 
 The winsome flow'rs frae Nature's lap, 
 Twining her living garlands there, 
 That lyart Time can ne'er impair. 
 
 R % 
 
ON SEEIN& A BUTTERFLY 
 IN THE STREET. 
 
 DAFT gowk, in macaroni dress, 
 
 Are ye come here to shaw your face, 
 
 Bowden wP pride o' simmer gloss, 
 
 To cast a dash at Reikie's cross ; 
 
 An ? glowr at mony a twa-leggM creature, 
 
 Flees braw by art, tho' worms by nature ? 
 
 Like country laird in city deeding, 
 Ye're come to town to lear' good breeding j 
 To bring ilk darling toast an' fashion 
 In rogue amang the flie creation* 
 That they, like buskit belles an' beaus, 
 May crook their mu' fu ? sour at those 
 Whase weird is still to creep, alas ! 
 Unnotie'd 'mang the humble grass ; 
 While ye, wP wings new buskit trit% 
 CJan far frae yird an' reptiles skim ; 
 Newfangle grown wi' new got form, 
 You soar aboon your mither worm. 
 
 Kind Nature lent but for a day 
 Her wings to mak ye sprush an* gay ;; 
 
199 
 
 In her habauliments a while 
 
 Ye may your former sell beguile, 
 
 An' ding awa ? the vexing thought 
 
 O' hourly dwyning into nought, 
 
 By beenging to your foppish brither's, 
 
 Black corbies dress' d in peacocks' feathers j 
 
 Like thee they dander here an' there, 
 
 Whan simmer's blinks are warm an' fair, 
 
 An* loo to snuff the healthy balm 
 
 Whan E'ening spreads her wing sae calm j 
 
 But whan she grins an' glowrs sae dow'r 
 
 Frae Borean houff in angry show'r, 
 
 Like thee they scoug frae street or field> 
 
 An' hap them in a lyther bield ; 
 
 For they were never made to dree 
 
 The adverse gloom o' Fortune's eie^ 
 
 Nor ever pried life's pining woes, 
 
 Nor pu'd the prickles wi' the rose. 
 
 Poor Butterfly ! thy case I mourn, 
 To green kail-yard and fruits return : 
 How cou'd you troke the mavis' note 
 For " penny pies all-piping hot?" 
 Can lintie's music be compared 
 Wi' gruntles frae the City Guard? 
 Or can our flow'rs at ten hours bell 
 The gowan or the spink excell? 
 
 Now shou'd our sclates wi' hailstanes ring^ 
 What cabbage-fauld wad screen your wing ? 
 
200 
 
 Say, fluttering fairy ! wer't thy hap 
 To light beneath braw Nanny's cap, 
 Wad she, proud butterfly of May ! 
 In pity lat you skaithless stay ? 
 The furies glanein frae her ein 
 Wad rug your wings o' siller sheen, 
 That, wae for thee ! far, far outvy 
 Her Paris artist's finest dye ; 
 Then a' your bonny spraings wad fall, 
 An 5 you a worm be left to crawl. 
 
 To sic mishanter rins the laird 
 Wha quats his ha'-house and kail-yard, 
 Grows politician, scours to court, 
 Whare he's the laughing-stock and sport 
 O' Ministers, wha jeer an' jibe, 
 An' heeze his hopes wi' thought o' bribe, 
 Till in the end they flae him bare, 
 Leave him to poortith, and to care. 
 Their fleetchin words owr late he sees, 
 He trudges hame, repines, and dies. 
 
 Sic be their fa' wha dirk thir ben 
 In blackest business nae their ain ; 
 An' may they scad their lips fu' leal, 
 That dip their spoons in ither's kail. 
 
ODE TO THE GfOWDSPINEL 
 
 FRAE fields where Spring her sweets has 
 
 blawn 
 Wi 9 caller verdure owr the lawn, 
 The Gowdspink comes in new attire, 
 The brawest 'mang the whistling choir, 
 That, 'ere the sun can clear his ein, 
 Wi' glib notes sane the simmer's green. 
 
 Sure Nature berried mony a tre$, 
 For spraings and bonny spats to thee : 
 Nae mair the Rainbow can impart 
 Sic glowing ferlies o ? her art, 
 Whase pencil wrought its freaks at will 
 On thee, the sey-piece o' her skill. 
 Nae mair thro* Straths in simmer dight 
 We seek the Rose to bless our sight ; 
 Or bid the bonny wa'-flowers sprout 
 On yonder Ruin's lofty snout. 
 Thy shining garments far outstrip 
 The cherries upo' Hebe's lip, 
 And fool the tints that Nature chose 
 To busk and paint the crimson rose. 
 
203 
 
 'Mang men, wa'es-heart ! we aften find 
 The brawest drest want peace o' mind. 
 While he that gangs wi' ragged coat 
 Is weel contentit wi' his lot. 
 Whan wand wi' glewy birdliine's set, 
 To steal far aff your dautit mate, 
 Blyth wad ye change your cleething gay 
 In lieu of lav'rock's sober gray. 
 In vain thro' woods you sair may ban 
 The envious treachery of man, 
 That wi' your gowden glister ta'en', 
 Still hunts you on the simmer's plain, 
 And traps you 'mang the sudden fa's 
 O' winter's dreery dreepin snaws* 
 Now ste^jkit frae the gow r any field, 
 Frae ilka fav'rite houff and bield, 
 But mergh, alas ! to disengage 
 Your bonny buik frae fettering cage, 
 Your free-born bosom beats in vain 
 For darling liberty again. 
 In window hung> how aft we see 
 Thee keek around at warblers free, 
 That carrol saft, and sweetly sing 
 Wi' a' the blytheness o 7 the spring? 
 Like Tantalus they hing you here 
 To spy the glorias o' the year ; 
 And tho' you're at the burnie's brink, 
 They douna suffer you to drink. 
 
SOS 
 
 Ah, Liberty ! thou bonny dame, 
 How wildly wanton is thy stream, 
 Hound whilk the birdies a' rojoiee, 
 An' hail you wi' a gratefu' voice. 
 The Gowdspink chatters joyous here, 
 And courts wi' gleesome sangs his peer : 
 The Mavis frae the new-bloom'd thorn 
 Begins his lauds at earest morn; 
 And herd lowns loupin o'er the grass 
 Needs far less fleetching till his lass, 
 Then paughty damsels bred at courts, 
 Wha thraw their mou's, and take the dorts 
 But, reft of thee fient flee we care 
 For a' that life a bint can spare. 
 The Gowdspink, that sae lang has kend 
 The happy sweets (his wonted friend,) 
 Her sad confinement ill can brook 
 In some dark chaumer's dowy nook : 
 Tho' Mary's hand his nebb supplies, 
 Unkend to hunger's painfu' cries, 
 I Ev'n beauty canna cheer the heart 
 j Frae life, frae liberty apart ; 
 For now we tyne its wonted lay, 
 Sae lightsome sweet, sae blythly gay, 
 
 Thus Fortune aft a curse can gie, 
 To wyle us far frae liberty ; 
 Then tent her syren smiles wha list, 
 I'll ne'er envy your Gxrnel's grist; 
 
2Q4r 
 
 For whan fair freedom smiles nae mair, 
 Care I for life ? Shame fa' the hair ; 
 A field overgrown wi> rankest stubble^ 
 The essence o ? a paltry bubble, 
 
CALLER WATER, 
 
 WHAN father Adie first pat spade in 
 The bonny yeard o' ancient Eden, 
 His amry had nae liquor laid in 
 
 To fire his mou', 
 Nor did he thole his wife's upbraidin 
 
 For being fou. 
 
 . 
 
 A caller burn o ? siller sheen, 
 
 Ran cannily out owr the green, 
 
 And whan our gutcher's drouth had been 
 
 To Bide right sair, 
 He loutit down and drank bedeen 
 
 A dainty skair. 
 
 His bairns had a ? before the flood 
 A langer tack o' flesh and blood, 
 And on mair pithy shanks they stood 
 
 Than Noah's line, 
 Wha still hae been a feckless brood 
 
 Wi' drinking wine. 
 
206 
 
 The fuddlin Bardies now-a-days 
 Kin mauJcin-m&A in Bacchus' praise. 
 And limp and stoiter thro' their lays 
 
 Anacreontic, 
 While ilk his sea of wine displays 
 
 As big's the Pontic. 
 
 My Muse will nae gae far frae hame, 
 Or scour a' airths to hound for fame ; 
 In troth the jillet ye might blame 
 
 For thinking on't, 
 Whan aithly she can find the theme 
 
 Of aqua font. 
 
 This is the name that doctors use 
 Their patients noddles to confuse ; 
 Wi ? simples clad in terms abstruse, 
 
 They labour still, 
 In kittle words to gar ye roose 
 
 Their want o ? skill. 
 
 But we'll hae nae sick clitter-clatter, 
 And briefly to expound the matter, 
 It shall be caM guid Caller Water, 
 
 Than whilk I trow, 
 Few drugs in doctor shops are better 
 
 For me or you. 
 
207 
 
 TW joints be stiff as ony rung, 
 Your pith wi' pain be sairly dung, 
 Be you in Caller Water flung, 
 
 Out o'er the lugs, 
 Twill mak ye suple, swack and young, 
 
 Withouten drugs. 
 
 Tho' cholic or the heart-scad teaze us, 
 Or ony inward dwaam should seize us, 
 It masters a ? sic fell diseases, 
 
 That would ye spulzie, 
 And brings them to a canny crisis 
 
 Wi> little tulzie, 
 
 Wer-t na for it the bonny lasses 
 
 Wou'd glow'r nae mair in keeking glasses? 
 
 And soon tine dinH o ? a> the graces 
 
 That aft conveen 
 I*i gleefu' looks and bonny faces, 
 
 To catch our ein. 
 
 The fairest than might die a maid, 
 And Cupid quit his shooting trade, 
 For wha thro' clarty masquerade 
 
 Could then discover, 
 Whether the features under shade 
 
 Were worth a lover ? 
 
208 
 
 As simmer rains bring simmer flow'rs, 
 And leaves to deed the birken bow'rs, 
 Sae beauty gets by caller show'rs, 
 
 Sae rich a bloom, 
 As for estate, or heavy dow'rs, 
 
 Aft stands in room. 
 
 What maks Auld Reikie's dames sae fair ? 
 It cannot be the halesome air, 
 But caller burn beyond compare, 
 
 The best o' ony, 
 That gars them a' sic graces skair, 
 
 And blink sae bonny. 
 
 On May-day, in a fairy ring, 
 
 We've seen them round St. Anthon's spring, 
 
 Frae grass the caller dew-draps wring, 
 
 To weet their ein, 
 And water clear as crystal spring, 
 
 To synd them clean, 
 
 O may they still pursue the way, 
 To look sae feat, sae clean, sae gay ! 
 Than shall their beauties glance like May, 
 
 And, like her, be 
 The Goddess of the vocal spray, 
 
 The Muse and me. 
 
THE 
 
 SITTING OF THE SESSION. 
 
 PHOEBUS, sair cow'd wi' simmer's height, 
 Cours near the yird wi' blinking light ; 
 Cauld shaw the haughs, nae mair bedighfc 
 
 Wi' simmer's claes, 
 They heeze the heart o' dowy wight 
 
 That thro' them gaes* 
 
 Weel loes me o' you, Business, now; 
 For ye'll weet mony a drouthy mou' 
 That's lang a eisning gane for you, 
 
 Withouten fill 
 O' dribles frae the gude brown cow y 
 
 Or Highland gilL 
 
 | The Court a' Session, weel wat I, 
 ! Pits ilk chield's whittle i' the pye, 
 Can eriesh the slaw-gaun wheels whan dry 
 
 Till Session's done, 
 Tho' they'll gie mony a cheap and cry 
 Or twalt o' June. 
 S % 
 
210 
 
 Ye benders a ? , that dwall in joot, 
 You'll tak your liquor clean cap out, 
 Synd your mouse-webs wi' reaming stout, 
 
 While ye hae cash, 
 And gar your cares a' tak the rout, 
 
 An' thumb ne'er fash, 
 
 Bob Gibb's grey gizz, new frizzl'd fine, 
 Will white as ony snaw-ba' shine ; 
 Weel does he loe the Lawen coin 
 
 Whan dossied down, 
 For whisky gills or dribbs o' wine 
 
 In cauld forenoon. 
 
 Bar-keepers now, at outer-dore, 
 Tak tent as fock gang back and fore ; 
 The fient ane there but pays his score, 
 
 Nane wins toll-free, 
 Tho' ye've a cause the house before, 
 
 Or agent be. 
 
 Gin ony here wi ? canker knocks, 
 And has na lous'd his siller pocks, 
 Ye need na think to fletch or cox, 
 
 H Come shaw's your gear 
 a Ae scabbit ijew spills twenty flocks, 
 
 Ye's nae be here," 
 
211 
 
 Now at the door they'll raise a plea ; 
 Crack on, my lads ! — for fly ting's free ; 
 For gin you shou'd tongue- tacket be, 
 
 The m air's the pity, 
 Whan scalding but and ben we see 
 
 Pendente lite. 
 
 The Lawyers' shelf s, and Printers' presses 
 Grain unco sair wi' weighty cases ; 
 The dark in toil his pleasure places, 
 
 To thrive bedeen ; 
 At five-hour's bell scribes shaw their faces, 
 
 And rake their ei'n. 
 
 "The country fock to lawyers crook 
 u Ah ! weels me on your bonny buik ! 
 "The benmost part o' my kist nook 
 
 M I'll ripe for thee, 
 u And willing ware my hindmost rook 
 
 "For my decree." 
 
 But law's a draw- well unco deep, 
 
 Withouten rim fock out to keep; 
 
 A donnart chiel, whan drunk, may dreep 
 
 Fu' sleely in, 
 But finds the gate baith stay and steep* 
 'Ere out lie win. 
 
THE 
 
 RISING OF THE SESSION. 
 
 TO a* men living be it kend, 
 The Session now is at an end : 
 Writers, your finger-nebbs unbend, 
 
 And quat the pen, 
 Till Time wi' lyart pow shall send 
 
 Blyth June again. 
 
 Tir'd o' the law and a' its phrases^ 
 The wylie writers, rich as Croesus, 
 Hurl frae the town in hackney chaises, 
 
 For country cheer : 
 The jpowney that in spring-time grazes,. 
 
 Thrives a' the year 
 
 Ye lawyers, bid fareweel to lies, 
 Fareweel to din, Fareweel to fees, 
 The canny hours o ? rest may please, 
 
 Instead o' siller : 
 Hain'd multer bads the mill at ease, 
 
 And finds the miller v 
 
213 
 
 Blythe they may be wha wanton play 
 In Fortune's bonny blinken ray, 
 JV weel can they ding dool away, 
 
 Wi' comrades couthy, 
 And never dree a hungert day, 
 
 Or evening drouthy. 
 
 Ohon ! the day for him that's laid 
 In dowie poortith's caldrife shade, 
 Ablins o'er honest for his trade, 
 
 He racks his wits, 
 How he may get his bnik weel clad, 
 
 And fill his guts. 
 
 The farmers sons, as yap as sparrows, 
 Are glad, I trow, to flee the barras, 
 And whistle to the plough and harrows 
 
 At barley seed : 
 What writer wadna gang as far as 
 
 He cou'd for bread ? 
 
 After their yokin, I wat weel 
 They'll stoo the kebbuck to the heel ; 
 Eith can the plough stilts gar a chiel 
 
 Be unco vogie, 
 Clean to lick aff his crowdy-meal, 
 
 And scart his cogie* 
 
214 
 
 Now mony a fallow's dung-adrift 
 To a' the blast beneath the lift, 
 And tho' their stamack's aft in tift 
 
 In vacance-time, 
 Yet seenil do they ken the rift 
 
 0' stappit weym. 
 
 Now gin a Notar shou'd be wanted, 
 You'll find the pillars gayly planted 5 
 For little thing protests are granted 
 
 XIpo' a bill, 
 And weightiest matters covenanted 
 
 For half a gill. 
 
 Nae body taks a morning dribb 
 0' Holland gin frae Robin Gihb; 
 And tho' a dram to Rob's mair sib 
 
 Than is his wife, 
 He maun tak time to daut his Rib 
 
 Till siller's rife. 
 
 This vacance is a heavy doom 
 On Indian Peter's coffee-room, 
 For a' his china pigs are toom ; 
 
 Nor do we see 
 In wine the sucker biskets soom 
 
 As light's a flee. 
 
2i5 
 
 But stop, my Muse, nor make a mane, 
 Pate disna fend on that alane ; 
 He can fell tvva dogs wi' ae bane, 
 
 While ither fock 
 Maun rest themsels content wP ane, 
 
 Nor farrer trock. 
 
 Ye change-house keepers never grumble, 
 Tho* you a while your bickers whumble, 
 Be unco patientfu' and humble, 
 
 Nor mak a din, 
 Tho ? gadsjoot binna kent to rumble 
 
 Your weym within. 
 
 You needna grudge to draw your breath 
 For little mair than half a reath, 
 Than, gin we ? a* be spared frae death, 
 
 We'll gladly prie 
 Fresh noggins o ? your reaming graith 
 
 Wi' blythesome glee. 
 
LEITH RACES. 
 
 IN July month, ae bonny morn, 
 
 Whan Nature's rokely green 
 Was spread o'er ilka rigg o' corn 
 
 To charm our roving een ; 
 Glouring about I saw a quean, 
 
 The fairest 'neath the lift; 
 Her een were o' the siller sheen, 
 
 Her skin like snawy drift, 
 
 Sae white that day, 
 
 II. 
 
 Quod she, " I ferly unco sair, 
 
 " That ye sud musand gae, 
 " Ya wha hae sung o' Hallow-Fair, 
 
 " Her winter's pranks and play : 
 "Whan on Leith-Sands the racers rare, 
 
 6i Wi' jockey louns are met, 
 " Their orro pennies there to ware, 
 
 "And drown themselVin debt 
 
 "Fu> deep that day." 
 
217' 
 
 III. 
 
 ? wha are ye, my winsome dear, 
 
 That takes the gate sae early ? 
 Whare do ye win, gin ane may spear. 
 
 For I right meikle ferly, 
 That sic braw buskit laughing lass 
 
 Thir bonny blinks should gie, 
 An ? loup like Hebe o'er the grass, 
 
 As wanton and as free 
 
 Frae dule this day? 
 
 IV. 
 
 u I dwall amang the caller springs 
 
 " That weet the Land o' Cakes, 
 " And aften tune my canty strings 
 
 *f At bridals and late-wakes, 
 "They ca' me Mirth; I ne'er was kend 
 
 " To grumble or look sour, 
 " But blyth wad be a lift to lend, 
 
 " Gin ye wad sey my pow'r 
 
 " An* pith this day." 
 
 A bargain be't, and, by my fegs, 
 
 Gif ye will be my mate, 
 Wi' you I'll screw the cherry pegs, 
 
 Ye shanna find me blate ; 
 
 T 
 
218 
 
 We'll reel an' ramble thro' the sands. 
 
 An' jeer wi' a' we meet; 
 Nor hip the daft an' gleesome bands 
 
 That fill Edina's street 
 
 Sae thrang this day. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Ere servant maids had wont to rise 
 
 To seeth the breakfast kettle, 
 Ilk dame her brawest ribbons tries, 
 
 To put her on her mettle, 
 Wi' wiles some silly ehiel to trap 
 
 (An' troth he's fain to get her,) 
 But she'll craw kniefly in his crap, 
 
 Whan, wow ! he canna flit her 
 
 Frae hame that dav. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Now mony a scaw'd and bare-ars'd lown 
 
 Rise early to their wark, 
 Eneugh to fley a muckle town, 
 
 Wi' dinsome sqeel an' bark : 
 u Here is the true an' faithfu' list 
 
 " O' Noblemen an' Horses ; 
 a Their eild, their weight, their height, thei 
 grist, 
 
 That rin for Plates or Purses 
 
 "Fu' fleet this day." 
 
S19 
 
 VIII. 
 
 To Whisky Plooks that burnt for wooks 
 
 On town-guard soldiers faces, 
 Their barber bauld his whittle crooks, 
 
 An' scrapes them for the races : 
 Their Stumps erst used to Filipegs, 
 
 Are dight in spatterdashes, 
 Whase barkent hides scarce fend their legs 
 
 Frae weet an' weary plashes 
 
 O' dirt that day. 
 
 IX. 
 
 " Come, hafe a care (the captain cries,) 
 
 " On guns your bagnets thraw ; 
 u Now mind your manual exercise, 
 
 u An ? marsh down raw by raw." 
 And as they march he'll glowr about, 
 
 -Tent a ? their cuts and scars : 
 'Mang them fell mony a gausy snout 
 
 Has gusht in birth-day wars, 
 
 WV blude that day. 
 
 X. 
 
 Her JSTane'sel maun be carefu* now, 
 
 Nor maun she be misleard, 
 Sin baxter lads hae SeaFd a vow 
 
 To skelp an ? clout the guard ; 
 
 
220 
 
 I'm sure JLuld Reikie kens o ? nane 
 
 That wou'd be sorry at it, 
 Tho ? they should dearly pay the kane, 
 
 An 9 get their tails weel sautit 
 
 An ? sair thir days. 
 
 XL 
 
 The tinkler billies V the Bow 
 
 Are now less eident clinking, 
 As lang's their pith or siller dow, 
 
 Tfaey^re daffin and their drinking. 
 Bedown Leith-walk what bourochs reel 
 
 ? ilka trade and station, 
 That gar their wives an ? ehilder feel 
 
 Toom weyras for their libation 
 
 ? drink thir days, 
 
 XII. 
 
 The browster wives thegither harl 
 
 A' Trash that they can fa 5 on ; 
 They rake the grunds o' ilka barrel, 
 
 To profit by the lawen : 
 For weel wat they a skin leal het 
 
 For drinking needs nae hire j 
 At drumly gear they tak nae pet; 
 
 Foul water slockens fine, 
 
 And drouth thir days. 
 
XIII. 
 
 They say ill ale has been the deid 
 
 0' mony a beirdly lown ; 
 Then dinna gape like gleds wi' greed 
 
 To sweel hail bickers down ; 
 Gin Lord send mony ane the morn, 
 
 They'll ban fu' sair the time 
 That e'er they toutit aff the horn, 
 
 Which wambles thro' their weym 
 Wi' pain that day. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 The Buchan bodies thro' the beech 
 
 Their bunch o' Findrums cry, 
 An' skirl out bauP in Norland speech, 
 
 " Gruid speldings, fa' will buy ?" 
 An' by my saul, they're nae wrang gear 
 
 To gust a stirrah's mow; 
 Weel staw'd wi' them, he'll never spear 
 
 The price o' being fu' 
 
 Wi' drink that day. 
 
 XV. 
 
 Now wyly wights at Mowly Fowl, 
 
 An' flingan' o' the Dice, 
 Here brake the banes o' mony a soul 
 
 Wi' fa's upo' the ice : 
 T 2 
 
At first the gate seems fair an 5 straught, 
 Sae they had fairly till her ; 
 
 Bat wow ! in spite o' a' their maught, 
 They're rookit o' their siller 
 
 An' gowd that day. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 Around where'er you fling your een, 
 
 The Haiks like wind are seourin' ; 
 Some chaises honest folk contain, 
 
 An* some hae mony a Whore in; 
 Wi' rose and lilly, red and white, 
 
 They gie themselves sic fit airs, 
 Like Dian, they will seem perfite ; 
 
 But it's nae gowd that glitters 
 
 Wi' them thir days 
 
 XVII. 
 
 The lyon here wi' open paw, 
 
 May cleek i* mony hunder, 
 Wha geek at Scotland and her law, 
 
 His wyly talons under; 
 For ken, tho' Jamie's laws are auld, 
 
 (Thanks to the wise recorder !) 
 His Lyon yet roars loud and hauld, 
 
 To had the Whigs in order 
 
 Sae prime this day. 
 
£23 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 To town-guard Drum, of clangour clear, 
 
 Baith men and steeds are raingit; 
 Some liveries red or yellow wear, 
 
 And some are tartan spraingit ! 
 And now the red, the blue e'en-now, 
 
 Bids fairest for the market ; 
 But, 'ere the sport be done, I trow, 
 
 Their skins are gayly yarkit 
 
 And peel'd thir days, 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Siclike in Pantheon debates, 
 
 Whan twa chiels hae a pinglej 
 F'en now some couli gets his aits. 
 
 An' dirt wi' words they mingle ; 
 Till up loups he wi' diction fu', 
 
 There's lang and dreech contesting; 
 For now they're near the point in view, 
 
 Now ten miles frae the question 
 
 In hand that night. 
 
 XX. 
 
 The races o'er, they hale the dools 
 
 Wi' drink o' a' kin-kind ; 
 Great feck gae hirpling hame like fools, 
 
 The cripple lead the blind. 
 
224 
 
 May ne'er the canker o ? the drink 
 E'er mak our spirits thrawart, 
 
 "Case we git wharewitha' to wink 
 Wi' een as blue's a blawart 
 
 Wi ? straiks thir days ! 
 
THE FARMER'S INGLE. 
 
 Et multo in prim is hilarans convivia Baccho, 
 Ante.focum, si frigus erit. 
 
 Vibg. Bcc> 
 
 I. 
 
 WHAN glooming grey out o'er the welkin 
 keeks, 
 
 Whan Batie ca's his owsen to the byre, 
 Whan Thrasher John, sair dung, his barn-dore 
 steeks, 
 
 And lusty lasses at the flighting tire ; 
 What bangs fu ? leal the e'enings coming cauld, 
 
 And gars snaw-tapit winter freeze in vain ; 
 Gars clowie mortals look bait h Myth and bauld, 
 
 Nor fley'd wP a' the poortith o 9 the plain ; 
 
 Begin, my Muse, and chant in hamely strain* 
 
 IT. 
 
 Frae the big stack, weel winnow't on the hill, 
 WP divets theekit frae the weet and drift, 
 
 Sods, peats, and heath'ry trufs the chimley fill, 
 And gar their thickening smeek salute the lift : 
 
226 
 
 The gudeman, new come hame, is blyth to find, 
 Whan he out o'er the halland flings his een, 
 
 That ilka turn is handled to his mind, 
 That a' his housie looks sae cosh and clean: 
 For cleanly house loes he, tho' e'er sae mean 
 
 III. 
 
 Weel kens the gudewife that the pleughs require 
 
 A heartsome meltith, and refreshing synd, 
 O' nappy liquor, o'er a bleezing fire : 
 
 Sair wark and poortith douna weel be join'd 
 Wi' butter'd bannocks now the girdle reeks : 
 
 I' the far nook the bowie briskly reams ; 
 The readied kail stands by the chimly cheeks. 
 
 And had the riggin het wi' welcome streams; 
 
 Whilk than the daintiest kitchen nicer seems! 
 
 IV. 
 
 Frae this lat gentler gabs a lesson lear ; 
 
 Wad they to labouring lend an eident hand, 
 They'd rax fell Strang upo' the simplest fare, 
 
 Nor find their stamacks ever at a stand. 
 Fu' hale and healthy wad they pass the day, 
 
 At night in calmest slumbers dose fu' sound, 
 Nor doctor need their weary life to spae, 
 
 Nor drogs their noddle and their sense con- 
 found, 
 
 Till death slip sleely on, and gie the hind- 
 most wound. 
 
327 
 
 V. 
 
 On sicken food has mony a doughty deed 
 
 By Caledonia's ancestors been done ; 
 By this did mony a wight fu' weirlike bleed 
 
 In brulzies frae the dawn to set o' sun ; 
 'Twas this that braced their gardies, stiff an* 
 Strang, 
 That bent the deidly yew in ancient days, 
 Laid Denmark's daring sons on yird alang, 
 Gar'd Scottish thristles bang the Roman 
 
 bays ; 
 For near our crest their heads they doughtna 
 raise. 
 
 VI. 
 
 The couthy cracks begin whan sappers o'er, 
 The cheering bicker gars them glibly gash, 
 
 0' simmer's showery blinks and winter's sour, 
 Whase floods did erst thair martin's produce 
 hash. 
 
 'Bout JcirJc an' market eke their tales gae on, 
 How Jock wqq t (] Jenny here to be his bride, 
 
 And there how Marion? for a bastart son, 
 Upo' the cutty-stool was forc'd to ride, 
 The waefu' scald o' our Mess John to bide, 
 
S38 
 
 VII. 
 
 The fient a chiep's amang the barnies now, 
 
 For a' their anger's wi' their hunger gane : 
 Ay maun the childer, wi' a fastin' mou', 
 
 Grumble and greet, and make an unco mane. 
 In rangels round before the ingle's low, 
 Frae Gudame's mouth auld warld tale they 
 hear, 
 O' Warlocks louping round the Wirrilcow, 
 O' gaists that win in glen and kirk-yard 
 
 drear, 
 Whilk touzles a' their tap, and gars them 
 shak wi' fear. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 For weel she trows that fiends and fairies be 
 Sent frae the de'il to fleetch us to our ill : 
 
 That ky hae tint their milk wi' evil eie, 
 And corn been scowder'd on the do win °- 
 kill, 
 
 O mock na this, .my friends ! but rather mourn, 
 Ye' in life's brawest spring wi' reason clear. 
 
 Wi' eild our idle fancies a' return, 
 And dim our dolefu' days wi' bairnly fear; 
 The mind's ay cradled whan the grave is 
 near. 
 
329 
 
 IX. 
 
 Yet thrift, industrious, bides her latest days, 
 Tho ? age her sair dow*d front wP runkles 
 wave, 
 
 Yet frae the russet lap the spindle plays, 
 Her evening stent reels she as weel's the lave* 
 
 On some feast-day, the wee-things buskit braw 
 Shall heeze her heart up wP a silent joy ; 
 
 Fu ? caidgie that her head was up and saw 
 Her ain spun cleething on a darling boy 
 Careless tho' death shoiPd mak the feast her 
 foy. 
 
 X. 
 
 In its auld lerroch yet the deas remains, 
 Whare the gudeman aft streeks him at his 
 ease, 
 A warm and canny lean for weary banes 
 O' laborers doiPd upo ? the wintry leas : 
 Round him will badririS and the colly come, 
 To wag their tail, and cast a thankfip eie 
 To him wha kindly flings them mony a crum 
 O' kebbock whang'd, and dainty fadge to 
 
 prie; 
 This a' boon they crave, and a ? the fee, 
 IT 
 
230 
 
 XL 
 
 Frae him the lads their morning counsel tak, 
 What stacks he wants to thrash, what rigs 
 to till; 
 How big a birn maun lie on lassie's back, 
 
 For meal and multure to the thirling mill. 
 Neist the gudwife her hirling damsels bids 
 Glour thro' the byre, and see the hawkies 
 bound, 
 Tak tent case Crummy tak her wonted tids, 
 And ca' the laiglen's treasure on the ground, 
 Whilk spills a kebboclc nice, or yellow 
 pound. 
 
 XII. 
 
 Then a' the house for sleep begins to grien, 
 Their joints to slack frae industry a while; 
 
 The leaden god fa's heavy on their ein, 
 And hafflin steeks them frae their daily 
 toil : 
 
 The cruizy too can only blink and bleer, 
 The restit ingle's done the maist it dow ; 
 
 Tacksman and cottar eke to bed maun steer, 
 Upo' the cod to clear their drumly pow, 
 Till waken'd by the dawning's ruddy glow 
 
§31 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Peace to the husbandman and a* his tribe, 
 Whase care fells a' our wants frae year to 
 year ! 
 
 Lang may his sock and couter turn the gleyb I 
 And batiks o' corn bend down wP laded ear! 
 
 May Scotia's simmers ay look gay and green, 
 Her yellow hai* ? st frae scowry blasts decreed! 
 
 May a ? her tenants sit fu ? snug and bein, 
 Frae the hard grip o ? ails and poortith freed, 
 And a lang kiting train o* peaceful hours' 
 succeed ! 
 
THE ELECTION. 
 
 None est bibendum, et bendere Bickerum magnum ; 
 
 Cavete Town-Guardum, D 1 G— dd— m atque C— j^b — ■ — ra. 
 
 REJOICE, ye Burghers, ane an' a ? , 
 
 Lang look't for's come at last ; 
 Sair war your backs held to the wa 5 
 
 Wi' poortith an' wi'fasi: 
 Now ye may clap your wings an' craw, 
 
 And gayly busk ilk' feather, 
 For Deacon Cocks hae pass'd a law 
 
 To rax an' weet your leather 
 
 Wi' drink thir days. 
 
 II. 
 
 Haste Epps, quo' John, an ? bring my gizz ! 
 
 Tak tent ye dinna't spulzie ; 
 Last night the barber gae't a frizz, 
 
 An' straikit it wi' ulzie. 
 
233 
 
 Hae done your paritch, lassie IA%% 9 
 
 Gie me my sark an' gravat ; 
 I'se be as brawls the Deacon is 
 
 Whan he tacks Affidavit 
 
 0' Faith the day. 
 
 III. 
 
 Whare's Johnny gaun, cries neebour Be$s P 
 
 That he's sae gayly bodin, 
 Wi' new kaim'd wig, weel syndet facej 
 
 Silk hose, for hamely hodin ? 
 u Our Johnny's nae sina' drink you'll guess ; 
 
 " He's trig as ony muir-cock, 
 u An' forth to mak a Deacon, lass ; 
 
 " He downa speak to poor fock 
 
 " Like us the day." 
 
 IV. 
 
 The coat ben-by i' the kist-nook, 
 
 That's been this towmonth swarming, 
 Is brought yence mair thereout to look. 
 
 To fleg awa the vermin ; 
 Menzies o' moths an' flaes are shook, 
 
 An' i' the floor they howder, 
 Till in a birn beneath the crook 
 
 They're singit wi' a scowder 
 
 To death that day. 
 U % 
 
33* 
 
 V. 
 
 The canty cobler quats his sta', 
 
 His rozet an' his lingans; 
 His buik has dreed a sair, sair fa' 
 
 Frae meals o' bread and ingans; 
 5fow he's a pow o' wit an' /ait', 
 
 An' taunts at soals an' heels ; 
 To Walker's he can rin aw a. 
 
 There whang his creams an' jeels 
 Wi' life that day. 
 
 VI. 
 
 The lads in order tak their seat, 
 
 (The de'l may clay the clungest!) 
 The stegh an' connoch sae the meat, 
 
 Their teeth mak mair than tongue haste 
 Their claes sae cleanly tight an' feat, 
 
 An' eke their craw-black beaver*s, 
 Like masters mows hae found the gate, 
 
 To tassols teugh wi' slavers 
 
 Fu' lang that day. 
 
 VII. 
 
 The dinner done, for brandy Strang 
 They cry to weet their thrapple, 
 
 To gar the stamack bide the bang, 
 Nor wi' its laden grapple* 
 
£35 
 
 The grace is said — its nae o'er lang ; 
 
 The claret reams in bells ; 
 Quod Beacon let the toast round gang, 
 
 " Come, here's our JVoble seVs 
 
 u Weel met the day/? 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Weels me o' drink, quo? cooper Will, 
 
 My barrel has been geyz'd ay, 
 An? has na gotten sic a fill 
 
 Sin' fu' on Handsel-Teysday : 
 But makes-na, now it's got a sweel^ 
 
 Ae gird I shanna cast lad, 
 Or else I wish the horned de'il 
 
 May Will wi' kittle cast dad 
 
 To h— 11 the day. 
 
 IX 
 
 The Magistrates fu' wy ly are, 
 
 Their lamps are gayly blinkin, 
 But they might as leive burn elsewhare^ 
 
 Whan fock's blind fu' wi' drinkin. 
 Our Deacon wadna ea' a chair, 
 
 The foul ane durst hirn na-say ; 
 He took shanks naig, but fient may care ! 
 
 He arslins kiss'd the causey 
 
 Wi' bir that night. 
 
S38 
 
 X. 
 
 Weel loes me o> you, souter Jock, 
 
 For tricks ye buit be trying, 
 Whan greapin for his ain bed-stock, 
 
 He fa's whare WilVs wife's lying : 
 Will coming hame wi' ither fock, 
 
 He saw Jock there before him : 
 WP Maister Laiglen, like a brock, 
 
 He did wi ? stink maist smore him 
 
 Fu' strang that night. 
 
 XL 
 
 Then wP a souple leathern whang 
 
 He gart them fidge and girn ay, 
 H Faith, chiel, ye's nae for naething gang, 
 
 "Gin ye maun reel my pirny." 
 Syne wi ? a muckle alshin lang 
 
 He brodie Maggie's hurdies; 
 An 9 cause he thought her F the wrang, 
 
 There passed nae bonny wordies 
 
 ; Tween them that night. 
 
 in. 
 
 Now, had some laird his lady fand 
 
 In sic unseemly courses, 
 It might hae loosed the haly band, 
 
 Wi ? law-suits an' divorces: 
 
237 
 
 But the neist day they a' shook hands. 
 
 And ilka crack did sowder, 
 While Megg for drink her apron pawns, 
 
 For a' the gude-man cow'd her 
 
 Whan fa' last night. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Grlowr round the cawsey, up an'.do'wn, 
 
 What mobbing and what plotting I 
 Here politicians bribe a loun 
 Against his saul for voting, 
 v The gowd that inlakes half a crown 
 Thir blades lug out to try them, 
 They pouch the gowd, nor fash the town 
 For weights an' scales to weigh them 
 Exact that day. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Then Deacons at the counsel stent 
 
 To get themsel's presentit : 
 For towmonths twa their saul is lent 5 
 
 For the town's gude indentit : 
 Lang's their debating thereanent, 
 
 About Protests they're bauthrin ; 
 While Sandy Fife, to mak content, 
 
 On Bells plays Clout the Caudron 
 To them that day. 
 
S38 
 
 XV. 
 
 Ye lowns that troke in doctors stuff; 
 
 You'll now hae unco slaisters ; 
 Whan windy blaws their stamaclcs puflj 
 
 They'll need baith pills and plaisters ; 
 For tho' e'en-now they look right bluffy 
 
 Sic drinks, 'ere hillocks meet. 
 Will hap some Deacons in a truff, 
 
 Inrow'd in the lang leet 
 
 O 9 death yon night. 
 
TO 
 
 THE TRON-KIRK BELL. 
 
 WANWORDY, crazy, dinsome thing, 
 As e'er was framed to jow or ring, 
 What gar'd them sic in steeple hing 
 
 They ken themseP, 
 But weel wat I they coudna bring 
 
 War sounds frae helL 
 
 What de'il are ye ? that I should bann, 
 Your neither kin to pat nor pan ; 
 Nor ugly pig^ nor maister-cann, 
 
 But weel may gie 
 Mair pleasure to the ear o ? man 
 
 Than stroke o ? thee, 
 
 Fleece merchants may look bauld I trow, 
 Sin ? a' Auld Reikie's childer now 
 Maun stap their lugs wP teats o' woo, 
 
 Thy sound to bang, 
 And keep it frae gawn thro' and thro* 
 
 WP jarrirP twang. 
 
240 
 
 Your noisy tongue, there's nae abidin't, 
 Like scaulding wife's, there is nae guidin't: 
 Whan Fm 'bout ony bis'ness eident, 
 
 It's sair to thole : 
 To deave me, than, ye tak a pride in't 
 
 Wi' senseless knoll. 
 
 O ! were I Provost o\the town, 
 I swear by a' the powers aboon, 
 Fd bring ye wi' a reesle down ; 
 
 Nor shud you think 
 (Sae sair Fd crack and clour your crown) 
 
 Again to clink. 
 
 For whan Fve toom'd the meikle cap, 
 An 9 fain wad fa' owr in a nap. 
 Troth I cou'd doze as soun's a tap, 
 
 Wert na for thee, 
 That gie' the tither weary chap 
 
 To wauken me. 
 
 I dreamt ae night I saw Auld Nick ; 
 Quo' he, " This bell o' mine's a trick, 
 " A wyly piece o' politic, 
 
 a A cunnin snare 
 " To trap fock in a cloven stick, 
 
 u 'Ere they're aware. 
 
? As langVmy dautit bell hings there, 
 ■ A> body at the kirk will skair ; 
 " Quo' they, gif he that preaches there 
 
 " Like it can wound, 
 " We douna care a single hair 
 
 "For joyfu' sound." 
 
 If magistrates wi ? me wud ? gree, 
 For ay tongue-takit shud ye be, 
 Nor fleg wi' antirnelody 
 
 Sic honest fock, 
 Whase lugs were never made to dree 
 
 Thy doolfu' shock. 
 
 But far frae thee the baillies dwell, 
 Or they wud scunner at your knell : 
 €rie the foul thief his riven bell, 
 
 And than, I trow, 
 The by- word hads, "'the de'il himseP 
 
 " Has got his due«" 
 
 X 
 
MUTUAL COMPLAINT 
 OF PLAINSTANES AND CAUSEY, 
 
 IN THEIR MOTHER TONGUE. 
 
 SIN Merlin laid Auld Reikie's causey, 
 And made her o ? his wark right saucy, 
 The spacious street and plainstanes 
 Were never kend to crack but anes, 
 Whilk happened on the hinder night, 
 Whan * Fraser's uly tint its light ; 
 O y Highland sentries nane were waukin, 
 To hear thir cronies glibly taukin; 
 For them this wonder might hae rotten, 
 And, like night roWry, been forgotten, 
 Had $a a cadie, wi ? his lanthron, 
 Been gleg enough to hear them bant'rin, 
 Wha came to me neist morning early, 
 To gie me tidings o' this ferly. 
 
 Ye taunting lowns, trow this nae joke, 
 For anes the ass of Balaam spoke, 
 
 * The Contractor for the lamps. • 
 
MS 
 
 Better than lawyers do, forsooth, 
 For it spake naething but the truth ! 
 Whether they follow its example, 
 You'll ken best whan you hear the sample. 
 Plainstanes. My friend, thir hunder years 
 and mair, 
 We've been forfoughen late and air, 
 In sun-shine, and in weety weather, 
 Our thrawart lot we bure thegitheiv 
 I never growl'd, but was content 
 Whan ilk an had an equal stent; 
 But now to flyte I'se e'en be bauld, 
 Whan I'm wi' sic a grievance thrall'd. 
 How haps it, say, that mealy bakers, 
 Hair-kaimers, crieshy gizy-makers, 
 Shou'd a' get leave to waste thmv powders 
 Upo' my beaux and ladies shoulders ? 
 My travellers are fley'd to deid. 
 Wi' creels wanchancy, heap'd wi' bread, 
 Frae whilk hing down uncanny nicksticks^ 
 That aften gie the maidens sic licks, 
 As mak them blyth to skreen their faces 
 Wi' hats and muckle maun bon-graces 7 
 And cheat the lads that fain wad see 
 The glances o' a pauky eie, 
 Or gie their loves a wylie wink, 
 That erst might lend their hearts a clink! 
 
24& 
 
 Speak, Was I made to dree the ladin 
 0' Gallic chairman heavy treadin, 
 Wha in my tender buke bore holes 
 Wi' waefu' tackets i' the soals 
 O' broggs, whilk on my body tramp, 
 And wound like death at ilka clamp? 
 
 Causey. Weil crackit, friend — It aft hads 
 true, 
 WP naething fock make maist ado: 
 Weel ken ye, tho' you doughtna tell, 
 I pay the sairest k-ain mysell : 
 Owr me ilk day big wagons rumble, 
 And a ? my fabric birze and jumble $ 
 Owr me the muckle horses gallop, 
 Eneugh to rug my very saul up ; 
 And coachmen never trow they're slnrj;;}^- 
 
 While down the street their wheels are spin* 
 
 ning. 
 Like thee, do I not bide the brunt 
 O' Highland chairman's heavy dunt? 
 Yet I hae never thought o ? breathing 
 Complaint, or making din for naething. 
 Plainstanes. Had sae, and let me get a word 
 
 in, 
 Your back's best fitted for the burden j 
 And I can eithly tell you why, 
 Ye're doughtier by far than I ; 
 
245 
 
 For whin-stanes, howkit frae the craigS; 
 
 May thole the prancing feet o' naigs, 
 
 Nor ever fear uncanny hoiches 
 
 Frae clumsy carts or hackney-coaches, 
 
 While I, a weak and feckless creature. 
 
 Am moulded by a safter nature. 
 
 Wi ? mason's chissel diglitcd neat, 
 
 To gar me look baith clean and feat, 
 
 I scarce can bear a sairer thump 
 
 Than come frae sole o' shoe or pump, 
 
 I grant, indeed, that now and than, 
 
 Yield to & paten's pith 1 maun ; 
 
 But patens, tho' they're aften plenty, 
 
 Are ay laid down wi' feet fu' tenty, 
 
 And strokes frae ladies, tho' they're teazing, 
 
 I freely maun avow are pleasing. 
 
 For what use was 1 made, I wonder? 
 It was na tamely to chap under 
 The weight o' ilka codroch chiel, 
 That does my skin to targets peel ; 
 But gin I guess aright, my trade is 
 To fend frae skaith the. bonny ladies, 
 To keep the bairnies free frae harms 
 Whan airing i ? their nurses arms, 
 To be a safe and canny bield 
 For growing youth or drooping eild, 
 
 Tak then frae me the heavy load 
 0' jburden-bearers heavy shod, 
 
 X % 
 
246 
 
 Or, by my troth, the gude auld town sail 
 Hae this affair before the council. 
 
 Causey. I dinna care a single jot, 
 Tho' summoned by a shelly-coat; 
 Sae leally I'll propone defences, 
 As get ye flung for ray expenses ; 
 Your libel I'll impugn verbatim, 
 And hae a magnum damnum datum; 
 For tho ? frae Arthur' s-seat I sprang, 
 And am in constitution Strang, 
 Wad it na fret the hardest stane 
 Beneath the LucJcenbooths to grane ? 
 Tho' magistrates the Cross discard, 
 It makes na whan they leave the Guard / 
 A lumbersome and stinking bigging, 
 That rides the sairest on my rigging. 
 Poor me owr meikle do ye blame, 
 For tradesmen tramping on your wame, 
 Yet a' your edvocates and braw fock, 
 Come still to me Hwixt ane and twa clock, 
 And never yet were kent to range 
 At Charlie's Statue or ^Exchange. 
 Then tak your beaux and macaronies, 
 Gie me trades-fock and country Johnies ; 
 The de'iPs in't'gin ye dinna sign 
 Your sentiments conjunct \vF mine. 
 
 Plainstanes. Gin we twa couM be as auld- 
 farrant 
 As gar the council gie a warrant, 
 
247 
 
 Ilk lown rebellious to tak, 
 Wha walks not V the proper track, 
 And o ? three shillings Scottish souk him, 
 Or in the water-hole sair douk him, 
 This might assist the poor's collection, 
 And gie baith parties satisfaction. 
 
 Causey. But first, I think it will be good 
 To bring it to the Robinhood,* 
 Whare we sail hae the question stated, 
 And keen and crabitly debated, 
 Whether the provost and the bailies, 
 For the town's gude whase daily toil is ; 
 Should listen to our joint petitions, 
 And see ofetemper'd the conditions. 
 
 Plainstanes. Content am I — But east the 
 gate is 
 The Sun, wha taks his leave o' Thetis> 
 And come's to waken honest fock, 
 That gang to wark at sax o'clock ; 
 It sets us to be dumb a while, 
 And let our words gie place to toih 
 
 * Kow called the Paktue©^. 
 
A DRINK ECLOGUE, 
 
 ULNDJaADY, BRANDY* AND WHISKY. 
 
 ON auld worm-eaten skelf, in cellar dunk, 
 Whare. hearty benders synd their drouthy trunk, 
 Twa chappin bottles pang'd wP liquor fu', 
 Brandy the tane, the tither Whisky blue, 
 Grew cankered; for the twa were het within, 
 An' het-skin'd fock to fiyting soon begin : 
 The Frenchman fizzM, and first wad fit the 
 
 field, 
 While paughty Scotsman scorn'd to beenge 
 
 or yield. 
 Brandy. Black be your fa! ye cottar loun 
 
 mislear'd, 
 Blawn by the Porters, Chairman, City-Guard; 
 Hae ye nae breeding, that you cock your nose 
 Against my sweetly gusted cordial dose. 
 I've been near pauky courts, and aften there 
 Hae ea ? d hystericks frae the dowy fair ; 
 And courtiers aft gaed greening for my smack, 
 To gar them bauldly glour, and gashly crack. 
 The priest, to bang mishanters black and cares, 
 Hae sought me in bis closet £or his prayers. 
 
349 
 
 What tig then takes the fates, that they can thole 
 
 Thrawart to fix me i' this weary hole, 
 
 Sair fash'd wi' din, wi' darkness, and wi' 
 
 stinks, 
 Whare cheery day-light thro' the mirk ne'er 
 
 blinks. 
 Whisky. But ye maun be content, and 
 
 maunna rue, 
 Tho' erst ye've bizz'd in bonny madam's mou : 
 Wi' thoughts like thae your heart may sairly 
 
 dunt ; 
 The warld's now chang'd, its nae like use and 
 
 wont ; 
 For here, wae's me ! there's nouther lord nor 
 
 laird 
 pomp iG get heartscad tvm tjieir g|^*£ 
 
 skair'd ; 
 Nae mair your courtier louns will shaw their 
 
 face, 
 For they glour eiry at a friend's disgrace ; 
 But heeze your heart up — Whan at court yotl 
 
 hear 
 The patriot's thrapple wat wi' reaming beer; 
 Whan chairman, weary wi' his daily gain, 
 Can synd his whistle wi' the clear champaign ; 
 Be hopefu', for the time will soon row round, 
 Whan you'll nae langer dwall beneath the 
 
 ground, 
 
250 
 
 Brandy. Wanwordy gowk ! did I sae aften 
 
 shine 
 WV gowden glister thro' the chrystal fine, 
 To thole your taunts, that seenil hae been seen 
 Awa frae luggie, quegh, or truncher treein; 
 Gif honour wad but lat, a challenge should 
 Twine ye o' Highland tongue and Highland 
 
 blude ; 
 WV cairds like thee I scorn to file my thumb; 
 For gentle spirits gentle breeding doom* 
 
 Whisky. Truly I think it right you get your 
 
 alms, 
 Your high heart humbled amang common 
 
 drams r 
 Braw days for you, whan fools, newfangle 
 
 fain, 
 Like ither countries better than their ain ; 
 For there ye never saw sic chancy days, 
 Sic balls, assemblies, operas, or plays : 
 Hame-o'er langsyne you hae been blyth to 
 
 pack 
 Your a 9 upon a sarleless soldier's back; 
 For you thir lads, as weel-Iear'd travelers tell, 
 Had sell'd their sarks, gin savlcs they'd had 
 
 to sell. 
 But worth gets poortith an' black burning 
 
 shame, 
 To draunt and drivel out a life at hame, 
 
251 
 
 Alake ! the byword's owr weel kent through- 
 out, 
 ¥ Prophets at hame are held in nae repute ;" 
 Sae fair'st wi' ine, tho' I can het the skin, 
 And set the saul upo' a rairry pin, 
 Yet I am hameil, there's the sour mischance! 
 Fra na frae Turkey, Italy, or France ; 
 For now our gentles gabbs are grown sae nice ! 
 At thee they toot, an' never spear my price : 
 Witness — for thee they hight their tenants rent, 
 And fill their lands wi' poortith, discontent ; 
 Gar them o'er seas for cheaper mailins hunt, 
 An' leave their ain as hare's the Cairn-o-mount, 
 Bran. Tho' lairds tak tooihfu's o' my warm* 
 ing sap, 
 This dwines not tenants gear, nor cows their 
 
 crap ; 
 For love to you there's mony a tenant gaes 
 Bare-ars'd and barefoot o'er the highland braes : 
 For your nae mair the thrifty gudewife sees 
 Her lasses kirn, or birze the dainty cheese ; 
 Crummie nae mair for Jenny's hand will < rune, 
 Wi' milkness dreeping frae her teats adown : 
 For you owr ear' the ox his fate partakes, 
 And fa's a victim to the bludy aix. 
 
 Whisky. Wha is't that gars the greedy Ban- 
 ker prieve 
 The Ma'dews tocher, but the Maiden's leave: 
 
25a 
 
 By you when spulzied o' her charming pose* 
 She tholes in turn the taunt o' cauldrife joes ; 
 Wi' skelps like this foek sit but seenil down 
 To wethergammon or howtowdy brown ; 
 Sair dung wi' dule, and fley'd for coming debt, 
 They gar their mou'-bits wi' their incomes met, 
 Content enough gif they hae wherewithal 
 Scrimply to tack their body and their saul 
 Brandy. Frae some poor poet, o'er as poor a 
 
 pot, 
 Ye've lear'd to crack sae crouse, ye haveril 
 
 Scot, 
 Or burgher politician, that embrues 
 His tongue in thee, and reads the claiking 
 
 news; 
 But waes heart for you! that for ay maun dwell 
 In poet's garret, or in chairman's cell, 
 While I shall yet on bien-clad tables stand, 
 Bouden wi' a' the daintiths o' the land. 
 
 Whisky. Troth I hae been 'ere now the 
 
 poet's flame, 
 And heez'd his sangs to mony blythesome 
 
 theme, 
 Wha was't gar'd Allie's chaunter chirm fu' 
 
 clear, 
 Life to the saul, and music to the ear : 
 Nae stream but kens, and can repeat the lay 
 To shepherd streekit on the simmer brae, 
 
253 
 
 Wha to their whistle wi' the laverock bang, 
 To wauken flocks the rural fields amang. 
 Bran. But here's the brouster-wife, and she 
 
 can tell 
 Wha's win the day, and wha shou'd wear the 
 
 bell : 
 Hae done your din, an 9 let her judgment join 
 In final verdict 'twixt your pley and mine. 
 Landlady. In days o' yore I cou'd my living 
 
 prize. 
 Nor fash'd wi' dolefu' guagers or excise ; 
 But now-a-days we're blyth to lear the thrift 
 Our heads 'boon licence and excise to lift : 
 Intakes o ? brandy we can soon supply 
 By whisky tinctured wi' the saffron's dye. 
 Will you your breeding threep, ye mongrel 
 
 loan/ 
 Frae hame-bred liquor dyM to colour brown ? 
 So flunky braw, whan drest in maister's claise, 
 Struts to Auld Reikie's cross on sunny days, 
 Till some auld comrades, ablins out o ? place, 
 Near the vain upstart shaws his meagre face ; 
 Bumbaz'd he loups frae sight, and jooks his 
 
 ken, 
 Fley'd to be seen amang the tassePd train. 
 
TO THE 
 
 PRINCIPAL AND PROFESSORS 
 
 Of the University of St. Andrew's, on their superb Treat to 
 Dr. Samuel Johnson. 
 
 i 
 
 ST. ANDRE W\S town may look right gawsy, 
 
 Nae Grass will grow upo* her cawsey, 
 
 Nor wa'-flow'r ,o* a yellow dye, 
 
 Glour dowy o'er her Ruins high, 
 
 Sin' Sammy's head weel pang'd wi' lear 
 
 Has seen the Mma Mater there : 
 
 Regents, my winsome billy boys ! 
 
 'Bout him ye've made an unco noise ; 
 
 Nae doubt for him your bells wad clink 
 
 To find him upon Eden's brink, 
 
 An* a' things nicely set in order, 
 
 Wad keep him on the Fifan border ; 
 
 I'se warrant now, frae France an* Spain, 
 
 Baith Cooks an* Scullions mony ane 
 
 Wad gar the pats an* kettle's tingle 
 
 Around the college kitchen ingle, 
 
 To fleg frae a' your craigs the roup, 
 
 Wi' reeking het an' creesby soup ; 
 
255 
 
 And snails and puddocks mony hunder 
 Wad beeking lie the hearth-stane under, 
 Wi' roast and boii'd, an' a kin kind, 
 To heat the body, cool the mind. 
 
 But hear, my lads ! gin Fd been there, 
 How Fd hae trimm'd the bill o' fare ! 
 For ne'er sic surly wight as he 
 Had met wi' sic respect frae me. 
 Mind ye what Sam, the lying loun ! 
 Has in his Dictionar laid down ? 
 That aits in England are a feast, 
 To cow an' horse, an 9 sicken beast, 
 While in Scots ground this growth was common 
 To gust the gab o' Man an' Woman. 
 
 Tak tent, ye Regents/ then, an' hear 
 My list o 9 gudely haraii gear, 
 Sic as hae aften rax'd the wyme 
 O' blyther fallows mony time, 
 Mair hardy, souple, steeve, an 9 swank, 
 Than ever stood on Sammy's shank. 
 
 Imprimis, then, a haggis fat, 
 Weel tottl'd in a seything pat, 
 WP sjncean 9 ingans weel ca'd thro', 
 Had helped to gust the stirrah's mow, 
 An' placed itseli in truncker clean 
 Before the gilpy's glowrin ecu. 
 
 Secundo, then, a gude sheep's head; 
 Whase hide was singit, never flead, 
 
25Q 
 
 And four black trotters clad wi 9 grisle, 
 Bedown his throat had learn'd to hirsle. 
 What think ye neist o' gude fat brose, 
 To clag his ribs? a dainty dose! 
 And white and bloody puddins routh, 
 To gar the Doctor skirl, O Drouth ! 
 Whan he cou'd never houp to merit 
 A cordial glass o 9 reaming claret, 
 But thraw his nose, and brize and pegh 
 O'er the contents o 9 sma 9 ale quegh ; 
 Then let his wisdom girn an' snarl 
 O'er a weel-tostit girdle farl, 
 An' learn, that, maugre o 9 his wame, 
 111 bairns are ay best heard at hame. 
 
 Drummond, lang syne, o 9 Hawthornden, 
 The wyliest an 9 best o 9 men, 
 Has gien you dishes ane or mae, 
 That wad hae gar 9 d his grinders play, 
 Not to Roast Beef ? Auld England's life ! 
 But to the auld East Nook of Fife,* 
 Whare Craillian crafts cou'd weel hae gi'en 
 Scale-rumples to hae clear 9 d his een ; 
 Than neist, whan Sammy 9 8 heart was faintin, 
 He 9 d lang'd for scate to make him wanton. 
 
 Ah ! willawin's for Scotland now, 
 Whan she maun stap ilk birky's mow, 
 
 * Alluding to two Tunes under these titles. 
 
357 
 
 Wi' elstacks, grown as 'tware in pet 
 In foreign land, or green-house het, 
 Whan cog o' brose an' cutty spoon 
 Is a' our cottar childer's boon 
 Wha thro' the week, till Sunday's speal, 
 Toil for pease-clods an' gude lang kail. 
 
 Devall then, Sirs, and never; send 
 For daintiths to regale a friend, 
 Or, like a torch at baith ends burning, 
 Your house'll soon grow mirk and mourning! 
 
 * What's this I hear some cynic say? 
 Robin, ye loun! it's nae fair play; 
 Is there nae ither subject rife 
 To clap your thumb upo' but Fife? 
 Gie o'er, young man, you'll meet your 'corning, 
 Than caption war, or charge o' horning ; 
 Some canker'd, surly, sour mou'd carline 
 Bred near the abbey o' Dumfarline, 
 Your shoulders yet may gie a lounder, 
 An' be of verse the mal-confounder. 
 
 Come on, ye blades ! but 'ere ye tulzie^, 
 Or hack our flesh wi' sword or gulzie^ 
 
 * Our Author here alludes to a misunderstanding he had with 
 a gentleman, a native of Dumfermline, who took amiss the con- 
 cluding reflection in the Expedition to Fife so much, that he sent 
 him a challenge; but which our Author treated with great co*k» 
 tempt, 
 
 Y 2 
 
ass 
 
 Ne'er shaw your teeth, nor look like stink. 
 Nor o'er an empty bicker blink ; 
 What weets the wizen an ? the wyme 
 Will mend your prose, and heal my rhyme. 
 
ELEGY 
 
 On John Hogg, late Porter to the University'of St. Andrews, 
 
 DEATH, what's ado? the de'il belicket, 
 Or wi' your stang you ne'er had pricket, 
 Or our auld alma mater trieket 
 
 O 7 poor John Hogg, 
 And trail'd him ben thro' your mark wicket 
 
 As dead's a log, 
 
 Now ilka glaikit scholar loun 
 May dander wae wi' duddy gown; 
 Kate Kennedy* to dowy crune 
 
 May mourn and clink, 
 And steeples o' St. Andrew's town 
 
 To yird may sink. 
 
 Sin' Pauly Tam,\ wi' canker'd snout, 
 First held the students in about, 
 
 * A bell in the College steeple. 
 
 •j- A name given by the students, at that time, to one of the 
 members of the University. 
 
260 
 
 To wear their elaes as black as soot, 
 
 They ne'er had reason. 
 
 Till Death John's haffit gae a clout 
 Sae out o' season. 
 
 Whan regents met at common schools, 
 He taught auld Tarn to hale the dules, 
 And eident to row rigfet the bowls, 
 
 Like ony emmack ; 
 He kept us a' within the rules 
 
 Strict academic. 
 
 Heh ! wha will tell the students now 
 To meet the Fault) cheek for chow, 
 Whan he, like frightsome wirrikow, 
 
 Had wont to rail, 
 And set our stamacks in a low, 
 
 Or we turned tail. 
 
 Ah, Johnny ! aften did 1 grumble 
 Frae cozy bed fu' ear' to tumble 
 Whan art and part I'd been in some ill 
 
 Troth I was swear ; 
 His words they brodit like a wumii 
 
 Frae ear to ear. 
 
 Whan I had been fu' laith to rise, 
 John than begude to moralize : 
 
2Qt 
 
 <•' The tither nap, the sluggard cries, 
 
 " And turns him round, 
 
 " Sae spake auld Solomon the wise, 
 
 " Divine profound !-" 
 
 Xae dominie, or wise mess John, 
 Was better lear'd in Solomon ; 
 He cited proverbs one by one 
 
 Ilk vice to tame ; 
 He gar'd ilk sinner sigh an' groan, 
 
 And fear hell's flame, 
 
 <f I hae nae meikle skill, quo 9 he, 
 
 il In what you ca' philosophy ; 
 
 u It tells that baith the earth and sea 
 
 " Rin round about ; 
 " Either the Bible tells a lie, 
 
 " Or ye're a' out. 
 
 u It's i' the Psalms o' David writ, 
 
 " That this wide warld ne'er should flit, 
 
 u But on the water's coshly sit 
 
 4 Fu' steeve and lasting : 
 " An' was na he a head o' wit 
 
 " At sic contesting !" 
 
 On eining cauld wi' glee we'd trudge 
 To heat our shins in Johnny's lodge ; 
 
&63 
 
 The de'il ane thought his bum to budge 
 WP siller on us : 
 
 To claw het pints we'd never grudge 
 O' molationis. 
 
 Say, ye red gowns/ that aften here 
 Hae toasted Cakes to Katie's beer, 
 Gin 'ere thir days hae had their peer, 
 
 Sae Myth, sae daft I 
 You'll ne'er again in life's career 
 
 Sit ha'f sae saft. 
 
 Wi ? haffit locks sae smooth and sleeky 
 John look'd like ony ancient Greek ; 
 He was a Na&'rene a 1 the week, 
 
 And doughtna tell out 
 A bawbee Scots to scrape his cheek 
 
 Till Sunday fell out 
 
 For John ay loo'd to turn the pence, 
 
 Thought poortith was a great offence : 
 
 u What reeks tho' ye ken mood and tense P 
 
 " A hungry wyme 
 "For gowd wad wi' them baith dispense 
 
 " At ony time. 
 
 « Ye ken what ails maun ay befai 
 " The chiel that will be prodigal : 
 
263 
 
 " Whan wasted to the very spaul 
 
 4 i He turns his tusk^ 
 
 u For want o' comfort to his saul 
 
 " O hungry husk." 
 
 Ye royit louns ! just do as he'd do ; 
 For mony braw green shaw an' meadow 
 He's left to cheer his dowy widow, 
 
 His winsome ICate, 
 That to him prov'd a canny she-dow, 
 
 Baith ear' and late > 
 
THE GHAISTS. 
 
 v2 Kirk-yard Eclogue, 
 
 Did you not say in good Ann's day, 
 
 An vow and did protest, Sir, 
 That when Hanover should come o'er 
 
 We surely should be blest, Sir ? 
 
 An auld Sang made new again, 
 
 WHARE the braid plains in clovvy murmurs 
 wave 
 
 Their ancient taps out o'er the cauld-elad 
 grave, 
 
 Whare Geordie Girdwood,* niony a lang spun 
 day, 
 
 Houkit for gentlest banes the humblest clay, 
 
 Twa sheeted ghaists, sae grizly and sae wan, 
 
 ; Mang lanely tombs their douff discourse began. 
 Wats. Cauld blaws the nippin north wi' an- 
 gry sough, 
 
 And showers his hailstanes frae the Castle 
 
 Clough 
 
 The late Sexlon, 
 
265 
 
 O'er the Grayfriars, whare, at mirkest hour, 
 Bogles and spectres wont to tak their tour, 
 Harlin the pows and shanks to hidden cairns, 
 Amang the hamlocks wild, and sun-burnt 
 
 fearns : 
 But nane the night, save you and I, hae come 
 Frae the dreer mansions o' the midnight tomb. 
 Now whan the dawning's near, whan cock 
 
 maun craw, 
 And wi' his angry bongil gar's withdraw, 
 Ayont the Kirk we'll stap, and their tak bield, 
 While the black hours our nightly freedom 
 
 yield. 
 Jlerriot. Pmweel content; but binna cassen 
 
 down, 
 Nor trow the cock will ca' ye hame o'er soon, 
 For tho' the eastern lift betakens day, 
 Changing her rokely black for mantle grey, 
 Nae weirlike bird our knell of parting rings,' 
 Nor sheds the caller moisture frae his wings. 
 Nature has chang'd her course ; the birds o' 
 
 day 
 Dozen in silence on the bending spray, 
 While owlets round the craigs at noon-tide 
 
 flee, 
 And bludy-hawks sit singand on the tree. 
 Ah, Caledon ! the land I yence held dear, 
 Sair mane mak I for thy destruction near ; 
 
 Z 
 
266 
 
 And thou, Edinaf anes my dear abode, 
 Whan royal Jamie sway'd the sovereign rod, 
 In thae blest days, weel did I think bestow'd 
 To blaw thy poortith by wi' heaps o ? gowd 5 
 To make thee sonsy seem wi ? mony a gift, 
 And gar thy stately turrets speel the lift : 
 In vain did Danish Jones, wi ? gimcrack pains, 
 In Gothic sculpture fret the pliant stanes : 
 In vain did he affix my statue here, 
 Brawly to busk wi ? flowers ilk coming year ; 
 My tow'rs are sunk, my lands are barren now, 
 My fame, my honour, like my flow'rs, maun dow. 
 
 Watson. Sure Major Weir, or some sic 
 warlock wight, 
 Has flung heguilin' glamour o'er your sight ; 
 Or else some kittle cantrip thrown, I ween, 
 Has bound in mirlygoes my ain twa ein, 
 If ever aught frae sense cou'd be believ'd 
 (And seenil hae my senses been deceived,) 
 This mament, o'er the tap o' Adam's tomb, 
 IV easy can I see your chiefest dome : 
 Nae corbie fleein there, nor croupin craws, 
 Seem to forspeak the ruin o ? thy haws, 
 But a' your tow'rs in wonted order standi 
 Steeve as the rocks that hem our native land. 
 
 Herriot. Think na I vent my well-a-day 
 in vain, 
 Kent ye the cause, ye sure wad join my mane. 
 
267 
 
 Black be the day that e'er to England's ground 
 Scotland was eikit by the Union's bond ; 
 For mony a menzie o' destructive ills 
 The country now maun brook frae mortmain 
 
 bills, 
 That void our testaments, and can freely gie 
 Sic will and scoup to the ordain' d trustee, 
 That he may tir our stateliest riggins bare 
 Nor acres, houses, woods, nor fishins spare, 
 Till he can lend the stoitering state a lift 
 Wi' gowd in gowpins as a grassum gift ; 
 In lieu o' whilk, we maun be weel content 
 To tyne the capital for three per cent. 
 A doughty sum indeed, whan now-a-days 
 They raise provisions as the stents they raise, 
 Yoke hard the poor, and lat the rich chiels be, 
 Pampered at ease by ither's industry. 
 
 Hale interest for my fund can scantly now 
 Cleed a' my callants backs, and stap their 
 
 mou' : 
 How mann their weyms wi' sairest hunger 
 
 slack, 
 Their duds in targets staff upo' their back, 
 Whan they are doomed to keep a lasting Lent, 
 Starving for England's weel at three per cent! 
 Watson. Auld Reikie than may bless the 
 
 gowden times, 
 Whan honesty and poortith baith are crimes : 
 
268 
 
 She little kend, whan you and I endowed 
 Our hospitals for back-gaun burghers gude, 
 That e'er our siller or our lands shou'd bring 
 A gude bien living to a back-gaun king : 
 Wha, thanks to Ministry ! is grown sae wise, 
 He downa chew the bitter cud of vice ; 
 For gin, frae Gastlehill to Netherbow, 
 Wad honest houses bawdy-houses grow, 
 The Crown wad never spear the price o' sin,^ 
 Nor hinder younkers to the de'il to rin ! 
 But gif some mortal gree for pious fame, 
 And leave the poor man's pray'r to sain his 
 
 name, 
 His gear maun a' be scattered by the claws 
 O' ruthless, ravenous, and harpy laws. 
 Yet, should I think, altho' the bill tak place, 
 The Council winna lack sae meikle grace, 
 As lat our heritage at wanworth gang, 
 Or the succeeding generations wrang 
 O' braw bien maintenance and wealth o' lear, 
 Whilk else had drappit to their children's 
 
 skair; 
 For mony a deep,and mony a rare engyne 
 Hae sprung frae Herriot's Wark, and sprung 
 
 frae mine. 
 Herviot. I find, my friend, that ye but little 
 
 ken, 
 'There's ei'now on the earth a set o' men, 
 
269 
 
 Wha, if they get their private pouches lin'd, 
 Gie nae a winnelstrae for a' minkind ; 
 They'll sell their country, flae their conscience 
 
 bare, 
 To gar the weigh-bauk turn a single hair. 
 The Government need only bait the line 
 Wi ? the prevailing flee, the gowden coin ; 
 Than our executors, and wise trustees, 
 Will sell them fishes in forbidden seas, 
 Upo ? their dwining country gtrn in sport, 
 Xaugh v their sleeve, and get a place at court, 
 Wats. 'Ere that day come, I'll *mang our 
 
 spirits pick 
 Some ghaist that trokes and conjures wP *lidd 
 
 To gar the wind wP rougher rumbles bla\v> 
 And weightier thuds than ever mortal saw : 
 Fire-flaught and hail, wi* tenfauld fury's fires*, 
 Shall lay yerd laigh Edina's airy spires : 
 Tweed shall rin row tin 5 down his banks out 
 
 o'er, 
 Till Scotland's out o 9 reach o J England's pow^r j 
 Upo' the briny Borean jaws to float, 
 And mousu in dowy saughs her dowy lot. 
 Herriot. Yonder's the tomb o' wise Macken- 
 zie fanrd, 
 Whase laws rebellious bigotry reclaim'd-, 
 
 Z % 
 
270 
 
 Freed the hale land o ? covenanting fools, 
 Wha erst hae fash'd us wi ? unnumber'd dools; 
 Till night we'll tak the swaird ahoon our pows« 
 And than, whan she her ebon chariot rows, 
 We'll travel to the vaut wi ? stealing stap, 
 And wauk Mackenzie frae his quiet nap ; 
 Tell him our ails, that he, wi' wonted skill, 
 May fleg the schemers o ? the mortmain bill. 
 
 [The preceding Poem was written about the time a Bill was in 
 agitation for vesting the whole Funds of Hospitals, and other 
 Charities throughout the Kingdom, in Government stock at three 
 per cent.] 
 
TO MY AULD BREEKS 
 
 NOW gae your wa's — Tho' anes as gude 
 
 As ever happit j#es7i and blade, 
 
 Yet pari we maun — The case sae hard is, 
 
 Amang the Writers and the Bardies, 
 
 That lang they'll brook the auld I trow, 
 
 Or neighbours cry, " Weel brook the newJ* 
 
 Still making tight wP tither steek 
 
 The tither hole, the tither eik, 
 
 To bang the birr o' winter's angei> 
 
 And had the hurdies out o' langer. 
 
 Sieklike some weary wight will fill 
 His kyte wi' drogs frae doctor's- billy 
 Thinking to tack the tither year 
 To life, and look baith hail an' fier, 
 Till at the lang-run Death dirks in, 
 To birze his saul ayont his skin. 
 
 You needna wag your duds o' clouts, 
 Nor fa' into your dorty pouts, 
 To think that erst you've hain'd my tail,. 
 Frae wind and weet, frae snaw and hail,. 
 And for reward, whan bauld and humtnH? 
 Frae garret high to dree a tumble.' 
 
» 
 
 57S 
 
 For you I car'd, as lang's ye dow'< 
 Be lin'd wi' siller or wi' govvcl : 
 Now to befriend, it wad be folly, 
 Your raggit hide and pouches holey : 
 For wha but kens a poet's placks 
 Get mony weary flaws an' cracks, 
 And canna thole to hae them tint, 
 As he sae seenil sees the mint? 
 Yet round the warld keek and see, 
 That ithers fare as ill as thee j 
 For weel we loe the chiel we think 
 Can get us tick, or gie us drink, 
 Till o' his purse we've seen the bottom, 
 Than we despise, and hae forgot him. 
 
 Yet gratefu' hearts, to make amends, 
 Will ay be sorry for their friends, 
 And I for thee — As mony a time 
 Wi' you Fye speel'd the braes o' rhiuie, 
 Whare for *the time the Muse ne'er cares 
 For siller, or sic guilefu' wares, 
 Wi' whilk we drumly grow, and crabbit, 
 Dour, capernoited, thrawin gabbit, 
 And blither, sister, friend and fae, 
 Without remeid o' kindred, slae. 
 
 You've seen me round the bickers reel 
 Wi' heart as hale as temper'd steel, 
 And face sae apen, free and blyth, 
 Nor thought that sorrow there cou'd kyth 5 
 
m 
 
 But the neist mament this was lost, 
 Like gowan in December's frost. 
 
 Cou'd Prick-the-louse but be sae handy 
 As mak the breeks and claise to stand ay, 
 Thro' thick and thin wi' you I'd dash on, 
 Nor mind the folly o' the fashion : 
 But, hegh ! the times' vicissitudo 
 Gars ither breeks decay as you do. 
 The Macaronies, braw and windy, 
 Maun fail — Sic transit gloria mundif 
 
 Now speed you to some maiden's chaumer, 
 That butt an' ben rings dule an' clamour, 
 Ask her, in kindness, if she seeks, 
 In hidling ways to wear the hreeks? 
 Safe you may dwall, tho' mould and motty, 
 Beneath the veil o' under coatie, 
 For this mair fants nor your's can screen, 
 Frae lover's quickest sense, his ein. 
 
 Or gif some bard, in lucky times, 
 Shou'd profit meikle by his rhimes, 
 And pace awa', wi' smirky face, 
 In siller or in gowden lace, 
 Glowr in his face, like spectre gaunt, 
 Remind him o' his former want, 
 To cow his daffin and his pleasure, 
 And gar him live within the measure. 
 
 So Philip, it is said, who wou'd ring 
 O'er Macedon a just and gude king, 
 
274 
 
 Fearing that power might plume his feather, 
 
 And bid him stretch beyond his tether, 
 
 Ilk morning to his lug wad ca ? 
 
 A tiny servant o' his ha% 
 
 To tell him to improve his span, 
 
 For Philip, was> like him, a Man. 
 
AULD REIKIE, 
 
 AULD REIKXE, wale o> ilka town 
 That Scotland kens beneath the moon ! 
 Whare couthy chiels at evening meet 
 Their bizzing craigs and mous to weet; 
 And blythly gar auld care gae by 
 WV blinkit and wi ? bleering eye : 
 O'er lang frae thee the Muse has been 
 Sae frisky on the Simmer's green, 
 Whan flowers and gowans wont to glent 
 In bonny blinks upo' the bent ; 
 But now the leaves o' yellow dye, 
 PeePd frae the branches, quickly fly ; 
 And now frae nouther bush nor briar 
 The spreckVd mavis greets your ear; 
 Nor bonny blackbird skims and roves 
 To seek his love in yonder groves. 
 
 Then Reikie, welcome ! Thou canst charm 
 Unfleggit by the year's alarm ; 
 Not Boreas, that sae snelly blows. 
 Dare here pap in his angry nose : 
 Thanks to our dads, whase biggin stands 
 A shelter to surrounding lands^ 
 
276 
 
 Now morn, wi' bonny purple smiles. 
 Kisses the air-cock o' St. Giles ; 
 Rakin their ein, the servant lasses 
 Early begin their lies and clashes ; 
 Ilk tells her friend o' saddest distress, 
 That still she brooks frae scouling mistress ; 
 And wi' her joe in turnpike stair 
 She'd rather snuff the stinking air, 
 As be subjected to her tongue, 
 When justly censurM V the wrong. 
 
 On stair wP tub, or pat in hand, 
 The barefoot housemaids loe to stand, 
 That antrin fock may ken how snell 
 Auld Reikie will at morning smell; 
 Then, with an inundation big as 
 The burn that 'neath the Nor' Loch brig is, 
 They kindly shower Edina's roses, 
 To quicken and regale our noses. 
 Now some for this, wi' satire's leesh, 
 Hae gi'en auld Edinbrough a creesh : 
 But without souring nocht is sweet; 
 The morning smells that hail our street, 
 Prepare and gently lead the way 
 Te simmer canty, braw and gay : 
 Edina's sons mair eithly share 
 Her spices and her dainties rare, 
 Than he that's never yet been call'd 
 Aff frae his plaidie or his fauld. 
 
%7? 
 
 Now stair-head critics, senseless fools, 
 Censure their aim, and pride their rules, 
 la Luckenbooths mtf glouring eye, 
 Their neighbours sma'est fauts descry : 
 If ony loun should dander there, 
 ? aukward gate, and foreign air, 
 They trace his steps, till they can tell 
 His pedigree as weePs himsell. 
 
 Whan Phoebus blinks wP warmer ray, 
 And schools at noon- day get the play, 
 Then, business, weighty business, comes, 
 The trader glours ; he doubts, he hums : 
 The lawyers eke to cross repair, 
 Their wings to shaw, and toss an air ; 
 While busy agent closely plies, 
 And a* his kittle cases tries. 
 
 Now night, that's cunzied chief for fun, 
 Is wP her usual rites begun ; 
 Thro' ilka gate the torches blaze, 
 And globes send out their blinkin rays, 
 The usefu' cadie plies in street, 
 To bide the profits o ? his feet ; 
 For by thir lads Auld Reikie's fock 
 Ken but a sample o ? the stock 
 0' thieves, that nightly wad oppress, 
 And mak baith goods and gear the less. 
 Near him the lazy chairman stands, 
 And wats na how to turn his hands 5 
 
 A a 
 
278 
 
 Till some daft birky, ranting fu', 
 Has matters somewhare else to do ; 
 The chairman willing gi'es his light 
 To deeds o' darkness and o' night 
 
 It's never sax-pence for a lift 
 That gars thir lads wi' fulness rift ; 
 For they wi' better gear are paid, 
 And whores and culls support their trade. 
 
 Near some lamp-post, wi' dowy face, 
 Wi' heavy ein, and sour grimace, 
 Stands she that beauty lang had kend, 
 Whoredom her trade, and vice her end. 
 But see whare now she wins her bread 
 By that which nature ne'er decreed ; 
 And vicious ditties sings to please 
 Fell Dissipation's votaries. 
 Wbane'er we reputation lose, 
 Fair chastity's transparent gloss ! 
 Redemption seenil kens the name, 
 
 But a's black misery and shame. 
 Frae joyous tavern, reeling drunk, 
 
 Wi' fiery phizz, and ein half sunk, 
 
 Behad the bruiser, fae to a' 
 
 That in the reek o' gardies fa' 
 
 Close by his side, a feckless race 
 
 O' macaronies shaw their face, 
 
 And think they're free frae skaitb or harm, 
 
 While pith befriends their leaders arm : 
 

 279 
 
 Yet fearfu' aften o' their niauglifc, 
 
 They quit the glory o' the faught 
 
 To this same warrior wha led 
 
 Thae heroes to bright honours bed % 
 
 And aft the haek o' honour shines 
 
 In bruiser's face wi* broken lines : 
 
 0' them sad tales he tells anon, 
 
 Whan ramble and whan fighting's dofte j 
 
 And, like Hectorian> ne'er impairs 
 
 The brag and glory o' his sairs. 
 
 Whan feet in dirty gutters plash, 
 And fock to wale their fitstaps fash; 
 At night the macaroni drunk, 
 In pools and gutters aftimes sunk : , 
 Hegh ! what a fright he now appears, 
 Whan he his corpse dejected rears ! 
 Look at that head, and think if there 
 The pomet slaister'd up his hair ! 
 The cheeks observe, where now cou'd shine 
 The scansing glories o' carmine ! 
 Ah, legs ! in vain the silk-worm there 
 Displayed to view her eident care ; 
 For stink, instead of perfumes, grow, 
 And clarty odours fragrant flow. 
 
 Now some to porter, some to punch, 
 Some to their wife, and some their wenclf$ 
 Retire, while noisy ten- hours' drum 
 Gars a' your trades gae dand'ring home* 
 
280 
 
 Now mony a club, jocose and free, 
 Gie a' to merriment and glee : 
 Wi ? sang and glass, they fley the pow'r 
 ? care that wad harass the hour : 
 For wine and Bacchus still bear down 
 Our thrawart fortune's wildest frown : 
 It maks you stark, and bauld, and brave, 
 E'en whan descending to the grave. 
 
 Now some, in Pandemonium's* shade, 
 Resume the gormandizing trade ; 
 Whare eager looks, and glancing ein 9 
 Forspeak a heart and stamacJc keen. 
 Gang on, my lads ; it's lang sin syne 
 We kent auld Epicurus' line ; 
 Save you the hoard wad cease to risc»> 
 Bedight wP daintitks to the skies ; 
 And salamanders cease to swill 
 The comforts o' a burning gill. 
 
 But chief, O Cape!* $e crave thy aid. 
 To get our cares and poortith laid : 
 Sincerity, and genius true, 
 ? knights have never been the due : 
 Mirth, music, porter deepest dy'd, 
 Are never here to worth deny'd ; 
 And health, o' happiness to the queen, 
 Blinks bonny, wP her smiles serene. 
 
 * Two social clubs 
 
281 
 
 Tho' joy maist part Auld Reikie owns, 
 Eftsoons she kens sad sorrow's frowns ; 
 What groupe is yon sae dismal, grim, 
 Wi' horrid aspect, deeding dim? 
 Says Death they're mine, a dowy crew. 
 To me they'll quickly pay their last adieu, 
 
 How come mankind, whan lacking woe^ 
 In Saulie's face their hearts to show, 
 As if they w r ere a clock to tell 
 That grief in them had rung her bell ? 
 Then, what is man? why a' this phraze? 
 Life's spunk decay'd nae mair can blaze, 
 Let sober grief alane declare 
 Our fond anxiety and care : 
 Nor let the undertakers be 
 The only waefu' friends we see. 
 
 Come on, mj Muse, and then rehearse 
 The gloomiest theme in a' your verse : 
 In mornings when ane keeks about, 
 Fu' bly th and free frae ail, nae doubt 
 He lippens na to be misled 
 Amang the regions o' the dead : 
 But straight a painted corp he sees, 
 Lang streekit 'neath its canopies. 
 Soon, soon will this his mirth controuL, 
 
 And send d n to his soul : 
 
 Or whan the dead-dale, (awfu' shape!) 
 Makes frighted mankind girn and gape, 
 A. a k 
 
Reflection than his reason sours, 
 For the neist dead- dale may be ours* 
 When Sybil led the Trojan down 
 To haggard Pluto's dreary town, 
 Shapes war nor thae, I freely ween, 
 Cou'd never meet the sogers' ein. 
 
 If kail sae green, or herbs, delight, 
 JEdina's street attracts the sight ; 
 Nor Govent-garden, clad sae braw, 
 Mair fouth o' herbs can eithly shaw : 
 For mony a yeard is here sair sought, 
 That kail and cabbage may be bought, 
 And healthfu' sallad to regale, 
 Whan pampered wi' a heavy meal. 
 Glour up the street at simmer morn, 
 The birk sae green, and sweet-briar thora,. 
 Wi' spraingit fiow'rs that scent the gate, 
 Ca' far awa the morning smell, 
 Wi' which our ladies' flow'r-pat's filFd, 
 And every noxious vapour kill'd. 
 O nature! canty, Myth and free, 
 Whare is there keeking-glass like thee ? 
 Is there on earth that can compare 
 Wi' Mary' shape, and Mary's air, 
 Save the cmpurpl'd speck that grows 
 In the saft faulds o' yonder rose ? 
 How bonny seems the virgin breast, 
 Whan by the liilies here carest, 
 
^83 
 
 And leaves the mind in doubt to tell 
 Which maist in sweets and hue excel ? 
 
 Gillespie's snuff should prime the nose 
 ? herjhat to the market goes. 
 If she wad like to shun the smells 
 That buoy up frae market cells 5 
 Whare wames o' painehes' sav'ry scent 
 To nostrils gie great discontent. 
 Now wha in Albion could expect 
 O' cleanliness sic great neglect? 
 Nae Hottentot that daily lairs 
 'Mang tripe or ither clarty wares, 
 Hath ever yet conceived, or seen 
 Beyond the line, sic scenes unclean. 
 
 On Sunday here, an altered scene 
 O' men and manner's meets our ein : 
 Ane wad maist trow some people chose 
 To change their faces wi 9 their clo'es, 
 And fain wad gar ilk neighbour think 
 They thirst for goodness as for drink 5. 
 But there's an unco dearth o' grace, 
 That has nae mansion but the face, 
 And never can obtain a part 
 In benmost corner o ? the heart. 
 Why shouM religion mak us sad, 
 If good frae Virtue's to be had ? 
 Na, rather gleefu' turn your face;- 
 Forsake hypocrisy, grimace ; 
 
284 
 
 And never hae it understood 
 You fleg mankind frae being good* 
 
 In afternoon, a' brawly buskit, 
 The joes and lasses loe to frisk it : 
 Some tak a great delight to place 
 The modest bon-gmce o'er the face ; 
 Tho' you may see, if so inclin'd, 
 The turning o' the leg behind. 
 Now Comely-garden, and the Park, 
 Refresh them, after forenoon's wark 5 
 Newhaven, Leith, or Canon-mills, 
 Supply them in their Sunday's gills : 
 Whare writers aften spend their pence^ 
 To stock their heads wi' drink an' sense* 
 
 While dand'ring cits delight to stray 
 To Castlehill, or public tvay 9 
 Whare they nae other purpose mean, 
 Than that foul cause o' being seen ; 
 Let me to Arthur's Seat pursue, 
 Whare bonny pastures meet the view ; 
 And mony a wild- lorn scene accrues, 
 Befitting Willie Shakespeare's muse : 
 If fancy there wou'd join the thrang, 
 The desart rocks and hills amang, 
 To echoes we should lilt and play, 
 And gie to Mirth the live-lang day. 
 
 Or shou'd some canker'd biting show V 
 The day and a' her sweets deflow'iv 
 
S8S 
 
 To Holy rood- house let me stray, 
 And gie to musing a' the deiy ; 
 Lamenting what auld Scotland knew 
 Bien days for ever frae her riew : 
 Hamilton, for shame! the Muse 
 Wad pay to thee her couthy vows, 
 Gin ye wad tent the humble strain, 
 And gie's our dignity again : 
 For O, waes me ! the Thistle springs 
 In domicile o* ancient kings, 
 Without a patriot to regret 
 Our palace and our ancient state. 
 
 Blest place ! whare debtors daily run, 
 To rid themsels frae jail and dun ; 
 Here, tho' sequestered frae the din 
 That rings JLuld Reikie's wa's within,' 
 Yet they may tread the sunny braes, 
 And brook Apollo's cheary rays ; 
 Glour frae St. JLntfion's grassy height, 
 O'er vales in simmer claise bedight, 
 Nor ever hing their head, I ween, 
 WP jealous fear o' being seen. 
 May I, whanever duns come nigh, 
 And shake ray garret wi' their cry, 
 Scour here wi ? haste, protection get, 
 To screen mysell frae them and debt ; 
 To breathe the bliss o ? open sky, 
 And Simon Fraser's* bolts defy. 
 
 * The Jate Keeper of the Tolbootb. 
 
280 
 
 Now gin a loun shou'd hae his claise 
 In thread-bare autumn o' their days, 
 St. Mary, broker's guardian saint. 
 Will satisfy ilk ail and want ; 
 For inony a hungary writer there 
 Dives down at night, wi' deeding bare^ 
 And quickly rises to the view 
 A gentleman perfyte and new. 
 Ye rich foek, look na wi' disdain 
 Upo' this ancient brokage lane i 
 For naked poets are supply'd 
 Wi' what you to their wants deny'd. 
 
 Peace to thy shade, thou wale o' meU, 
 Drummond ! relief to poortith's pain : 
 To thee the greatest bless we owe, 
 And tribute's tear shall grateful flow : 
 The sick are cur'd, the hungry fed, 
 And dreams o' comfort tend their bed. 
 As lang as Forth weets Lothian's shore, 
 As lang's on Fife her billows roar, 
 Sae lang shall ilk whase country's dear, 
 To thy remembrance gie a tear. 
 By thee JLuld Reikie thrave and grew 
 Delightfu' to her childer's view : 
 Na mair shall Glasgow striplins threep 
 Their city's beauty and its shape, 
 While our new city spreads around 
 Her bonny wings on fairy ground. 
 
my 
 
 But Provosts now that ne'er afford 
 The sma'est dignity to lord, 
 Ne'er care tho' every scheme gae wild 
 That Brummond's sacred hand has cull'd : 
 The spacious Brig* neglected lies, 
 Tho' plagu'd wi' pamphlets, dunn'd wi' cries ; 
 They heed not tho' destruction come 
 To gulp us in her gaunting womb, 
 
 shame ! that safety canna claim 
 Protection from a provost's name, 
 But hidden danger lies behind 
 To torture and to fieg the mind ; 
 
 1 may as weel bid Arthur's Seat 
 To Berwick-Law mak gleg retreat, 
 As think that either will or art 
 Shall get the gate to win their heart; 
 For Politics are a' their mark, 
 Bribes latent, and corruption dark: 
 If they can eithly turn the pence, 
 Wi' city's good they will dispense j 
 Nor care tho' a' her sons were lair'd 
 Ten fathom i' the auld kirk-yard. 
 
 To sing yet meikle does remain, 
 Undecent for a modest strain ; 
 And sin' the poet's daily bread is 
 The favour o' the Muse or ladies, 
 
 * The author here alludes to the state of the North Bridge, 
 after its fall* 
 
388 
 
 He downa like to gie offence 
 To delicacy's bonny sense ; 
 Therefore the stews remain unsung, 
 And bawds in silence drap their tongue. 
 
 Reikie, farewell! I ne'er cou'd part 
 Wi ? thee but wi ? a dowy heart ; 
 Aft frae the Fifan coast I've seen 
 Thee tow'riug on thy summit green. 
 So glowr the saints when first is given 
 A fav'rite keek o' glore and heaven ; 
 On earth nae mair they bend their ein ; 
 But quick assume angelic mein ; 
 So I on Fife wad glowr no more, 
 But gallop'd to Edina's shore. 
 

 HAME CONTENT. 
 
 A SATIRE. 
 
 To all whom it may concern. 
 
 SOME fock, like bees, fu> glegly rin 
 To bikes bang'd fu ? o ? strife and din, 
 And thieve and huddle crumb by crumb, 
 Till they have serapit the dautit Plumb, 
 Then craw fell crously o' their wark, 
 Tell o'er their turners mark by mark, 
 Yet dare na think to lowse the pose, 
 To aid their neighbours ails and woes. 
 
 Gif goud can fetter thus the heart, 
 And gar us act sae base a part, 
 Shall Man, a niggard, near-gawn elf! 
 JLin to the tether's end for pelf; 
 Learn ilka cunzied scoundrel's trick, 
 Whan a's done sell his saul to JVtcJc: 
 I trow they've coft the purchase dear, 
 That gangs sic lengths for warldly gear. 
 
 Now whan the Dog-day heats begin 
 To birsle and to peel the skin, 
 May I lie streekit at my ease, 
 Beneath the caller shady trees, 
 
 B b 
 
290 
 
 (Far frae the din o' Borrowstown,) 
 Whare water plays the haughs bedown ; 
 To jouk the simmer's rigour there, 
 And breath a while the caller air, 
 'Mang herds, an' honest cottar fock, 
 That till the farm an' feed the flock ; 
 Careless o' mair, wha never fash 
 To lade their kist wi' useless cash, 
 But thank the Gods for what they've sent, 
 O' health eneugh, and blyth content, 
 An' pith, that helps them to stravaig 
 Owr ilka cleugh an' ilka craig ; 
 Unkend to a' the weary granes 
 That aft arise frae gentler banes, 
 On easy chair that pamper'd lie, 
 Wi' banefu' viands gustit high, 
 And turn an' fauld their weary clay, 
 To rax an' gaunt the iive-lang day. 
 Ye sages tell ! was man e'er made 
 To dree this hatefu' sluggard trade? 
 Steekit frae Nature's beauties a' 
 That daily on his presence ca' ; 
 At hame to girn, and whinge, and pine 
 For fav'rite dishes, fav'rite wine : 
 Come, then, shak aff tbir sluggish ties, 
 And wi' the bird o' dawning rise ! 
 On ilka bank the clouds hae spread 
 Wi' blobs o' dew a pearly bed j 
 
•■ 
 
 291 
 
 Frae faulds nae mair the owsen rout, 
 But to the fattening clover lout/ 
 Whare they may feed at hearts content, 
 Unyokit frae their winters stent. 
 
 Unyoke thee, man 5 an 9 binna swear 
 To ding a hole in ill-hain'd gear! 
 O think that eild, wi' wyly fit, 
 Is wearing nearer bit by bit ! 
 Gin yenee he claws you wi' his paw, 
 What's siller for? Fiend hae't awa; 
 But goivden playfair, that may please 
 The second sharger till he dies. 
 
 Some daft chiel reads, and taks advice ; 
 The chaise is yokit in a trice ; 
 Awa drives he like huntit de'il, 
 And scarce tholes time to cool his wheel, 
 Till he's Lord ken's how far awa', 
 At Italy, or well a' Spa, 
 Or to Montpelier's safter air ; 
 For far aff fowls hae feathers fair. 
 
 There rest him weel ; for eith can we 
 Spare mony glakit gouks like he ; 
 They'll tell whare Tiber's waters rise ; 
 What sea receives the drumly prize, 
 That never wi' their feet hae met 
 The marches o' their ain estate. 
 
 The Arno and the Tiber lang 
 Hae run fell clear in Roman sang \ 
 
292 
 
 Bat save the reverence o' schools, 
 They're haith but lifeless, dowy pools* 
 Bought they compare wP bonny Tweed, 
 As clear as ony lammer-bead ? 
 Or are their shores mair sweet and gay 
 Than Fortha's haughs or banks o' Tay ? 
 Tho' there the herds can jink the show'rs 
 ^Mang thriving vines an* myrtle bow'rs, 
 And blaw the reed to kittle strains, 
 While echo's tongue commends their pains, 
 Like ours, they canna warm the heart 
 Wi' simple, saft bewitching art. 
 On Leader haughs an' Yarrow braes, 
 Arcadian herds wad tyne their lays, 
 To hear the mair melodious sounds 
 That live on our poetic grounds. 
 
 Come Fancy! come, and let us tread 
 The simmer's flow'ry velvet bed, 
 And a' your springs delightfu' lowse 
 On Twida's bank or Cowdenknoivs, 
 That ta'en wi' thy enchanting sang, 
 Our Scottish lads may round ye thrang, 
 Sae pleas'd they'll never fash again 
 To court you on Italian plain ; 
 Soon will they guess you only wear 
 The simple garb o' Nature here ; 
 Mair comely far an' fair to sight 
 Whan in her easy cleething dight, 
 
293 
 
 Than in disguise ye was before 
 On Tiber's, or on Arno's shore. 
 
 O Bangourf* Now the hills and dales 
 Nae mair gie back thy tender tales I 
 The birks on Yarrow now deplore 
 Thy mournfu' muse has left the shore : 
 Near what bright burn or crystal spring 
 Did you your winsome whistle hing? 
 The Muse shall there, wP watry eie, 
 Gie the dunk swaird a tear for thee ; 
 And Yarrow's genius, dowy dame ! 
 Shall there forget her blude-stain'd stream, 
 On thy sad grave to seek repose, 
 Who mourn'd her fate, condoPd her wots, 
 
 * Mr. Hamilton, of Bangour, 
 
 BH 
 
EPISTLE 
 
 TO MR. ROBERT FERGUSSON* 
 
 IS Allan risen frae the dead, 
 Wha aft has tun'd the aiten reed, 
 And by the Muses was decreed 
 
 To grace the thistle ? 
 Na; Fergusson's come in his stead 
 
 To blaw the whistle- 
 In troth, my callant, Fm sae fain 
 To read your sonsy, canty strain, 
 You write sic easy stile and plain, 
 
 And words sae bonny, 
 iSae southern loun dare you disdain, 
 
 Or cry, Fy on ye ! 
 
 Whae'er has at JLuld Reikie been, 
 And king's birth-day's exploits has seen, 
 Maun own that ye hae gi'en a keen 
 
 And true description j 
 Nor say ye've at Parnassas been 
 
 To form a fiction. 
 
295 
 
 Hale be your heart, ye canty chield ! 
 May ye ne'er want a glide warm bield, 
 And sic good cakes as Scotland yieldj 
 
 And ilka dainty 
 That grows or feeds upo' her field, 
 
 And whisky plenty. 
 
 But ye, perhaps, thirst mair for fame, 
 Than a' the good things 1 can name, 
 And than ye will be sair to blame 
 
 My gude intention : 
 For that ye needna gae frae hame, 
 
 You've sic pretension. 
 
 Sae saft and sweet your verses jingle, 
 An' your auld words sae meetly mingle, 
 'Twill gar baith married fock an' single 
 
 To roose your lays ; 
 Whan we forgether round the ingle, 
 
 We'll chant your praise. 
 
 Whan I again Auld Rekie see, 
 An' can forgether, lad, wi' thee, 
 Then we wi' meikle mirth and glee 
 
 Shall tak a gill, 
 And o' your caller oysters we 
 
 Shall eat our fill 
 
396 
 
 If sic a thing shou'd you betide, 
 To Berwick town to tak a ride, 
 Ise tak ye up Tweed's bonny side 
 
 Before ye settle, 
 And shaw r you there the fisher's pride, 
 
 A Salmon kettle. 
 
 There lads an' lasses do conveen 
 To feast an' dance upo' the green, 
 An' there sic brav'ry may seen 
 
 As will confound ye, 
 An' gar ye glour out baith your eeu 
 
 At a' around ye. 
 
 To see sae mony bosoms bare, 
 An' sic huge puddins i' their hair, 
 An' some o' them wi' naithing mair 
 
 Upo' their tete ; 
 Yea, some wi' mutches that might scare 
 
 Craws frae their meat 
 
 I ne'er appear'd before in print, 
 But for your sake wou'd fain be in't 
 E'en that I might my wishes hint 
 
 That you'd write mair j. 
 For sure your head- piece is a mint 
 
 "Whare wit's nae rare* 
 
297 
 
 Sonse fa' me, gif I hadna lure 
 
 I cou'd command ilk Muse as sure, 
 
 Than hae a chariot at the door 
 
 To wait upo' me ; 
 Tho', poet-like, Vm but a poor 
 
 Mid-Louthian Johnnie* 
 
 Berwick, Aug. 31 ; 1773, J* S. 
 
ANSWER 
 TO MR. J. S.'s EPISTLE. 
 
 I TROW, my mettFd Louthian lathie, 
 
 Jluldfurren birky I maun ca ? thee, 
 
 For whan in gude black print I saw thee 
 
 Wi ? souple gab, 
 I skirl'd fu> loud, " Oh wae befa* thee ! 
 
 " But thou'rt a dab.>> 
 
 Awa ? , ye wylie ftzvtehin fallow / 
 
 The rose shall grow like gowan yallow, 
 
 Before I turn sae toom an ? shallow, 
 
 And void of fusion, 
 As a 9 your butter'd words to swallow 
 
 In vain delusion. 
 
 Ye mak my Muse a dautit pet ; 
 
 But gin she cou'd like Allan's met, , 
 
 Or couthy cracks and hamely get 
 
 Upo' her caritch, 
 Eithly wad I be in your debt 
 
 A pint o ? paritch. 
 
399 
 
 At times whan she may lowse her pack, 
 I'll grant that she can find a knack 
 To gar auld-warld wordies clack 
 
 In hamespun rhitne, 
 While ilk ane at his billie's back 
 
 Keeps glide Scots time* 
 
 But she maun e'en be glad to jook, 
 An' play teet-ho frae nook to nook, 
 Or blush as gin she had the yook 
 
 Upo' her skin, 
 Whan Ramsay or whan PennicuiJc 
 
 Their lilts begin. 
 
 At morning ear', or late at e'en, 
 Gin ye sud hap to come and see ane, 
 Nor niggard wife, nor greetin wee-ane, 
 
 Within my eloyster, 
 Can challange you and me frae preein 
 
 A caller oyster, 
 
 Heh, lad ! it wad be news indeed, 
 Ware I to ride to bonny Tweed, 
 Wha ne'er laid gamon o'er a steed 
 
 Beyont Luster-rick ; 
 And auld shanks-nag wad tire/ 1 dread, 
 
 To pace to Berwick. 
 
309 
 
 You crack weel o' your lasses there, 
 Their glaucin eeu and bisket bare ; 
 But thof this town be smeeJcit sair, 
 
 I'll wad sifarden, 
 Than ours there's nane mair fat an' fair, 
 
 Gravin your pardon. 
 
 Gin heaven shou'd gie the earth a drink, 
 
 And afterhend a sunny blink, 
 
 Gin ye ware here, Pm sure you'd think 
 
 It worth your notice, 
 To see them dubbs and gutters jink 
 
 Wi' kiltit coaties. 
 
 And frae ilk corner o' the nation, 
 
 We've lasses eke o' recreation, 
 
 Wha at close mou's tak up their station 
 
 By ten o'clock : 
 The Lord deliver frae temptation 
 
 A' honest fock ! 
 
 Thir queans are ay upo' the catch 
 For pursy, pocket-book, or watch, 
 And can sae glib their leesins hatch, 
 
 That ye'll agree 
 Ye canna eithly meet their match 
 
 -Tween you and me. 
 
301 
 
 or this gude sample o> your skill, 
 Fm restin you a pint o' yale, 
 By an ? attour a Highland gill 
 
 O' Jlquavitce; 
 The which to come and sock at will, 
 I here invite ye. 
 
 Tho' jillet Fortune scoul an' quarrel, 
 And keep me frae a bien beef barrel, 
 As lang's I've twopence i> the warP 
 
 Fll ay be vockie 
 To part zfadge or girdle farl 
 
 WP Louthian Jockie* 
 
 Farewel, my cock ! Lang may ye thrive, 
 
 Weel happit in a cozy hive ; 
 
 And that your saul may never dive 
 
 To Acheron, 
 Fll wish as lang's I can subscribe 
 
 Rob, Fergusson. 
 
 C c 
 
POSTHUMOUS PIECES. 
 
 JOB, 
 CHAP. III. PARAPHRASED. 
 
 PERISH the fatal Day when I was bora, 
 The Night with dreary darkness be forlorn; 
 The loathed, hateful, and lamented night 
 When Job, 'twas told, had first perceived the 
 
 light ; 
 Let it be dark, nor let the God on high 
 Regard it with the favour of his eye ; 
 Let blackest darkness and death's awful shade 
 Stain it, and make the trembling earth afraid ; 
 Be it not joined unto the varying year, 
 Nor to the fleeting months. in swift career. 
 Lo ! let the night in solitude's dismay 
 Be dumb to joy, and wast^ in gloom away 5 
 On it may twilight stars be never known ; 
 Light let it wish for, Lord ! but give it none ; 
 
 
304 
 
 Curse it let them who curse the passing day, 
 And to the voice of mourning raise the lay ; 
 Nor ever be the face of dawning seen 
 To ope its lustre on tlr* enamel'd green ; 
 Because it seaPd not up my mother's womb, 
 Nor hid from me the Sorrows doomed to come. 
 Why have I not from mother's womb expired ? 
 My life resigned when life was first required ? 
 Why did supporting kfrees prevent my death, 
 Or suckling breasts sustain my infant breath ? 
 For now my soul with quiet had been blest, 
 With kings and counsellors of earth at rest, 
 Who bade the house of desolation rise, 
 And awful ruin strike tyrannic eyes, 
 Or with the princes unto whom were told 
 Rich store of silver and corrupting gold ; 
 Or, as untimely birth, I had not been 
 lake infant who the light hath never seen ; 
 For there the wicked from their trouble cease. 
 And there the weary find their lasting peace : 
 There the poor prisoners together rest, 
 Nor by the hand of injury opprest; 
 The small and great together mingPd are 
 And free the servant from his master there ; 
 Say, wherefore has an over-bounteous heaven 
 Light to the comfortless and wretched given ? 
 Why should the troubPd and oppressed in soul 
 Fret over restless life's unsettled bowl, 
 
305 
 
 Who long for death, who lists not to their 
 
 pray'r, 
 And dig as for the treasures hid ^far; 
 Who with excess of joy are blest and glad, 
 Rejoiced when in the tomb of silence laid ? 
 Why then is grateful light bestowed on man. 
 Whose life is darkness,. all his days a span? 
 For ? ere the morn returned my sighing came, 
 My mourning pour'd out as the mountain. 
 
 stream ; 
 Wild visag ? d fear, with sorrow-mingled eye, 
 And wan destruction piteous star'd me nigh § 
 For tho ? no rest nor safety blest my soul, 
 New trouble came, new darkness, new controuh 
 
 Cc2 
 
ODE TO HORROR, 
 
 O THOU who with incessant gloom 
 Court's the recess of midnight tomb I 
 Admit me of thy mournful throng, 
 The scattered woods and wilds among; 
 If e'er thy discontented ear 
 The voice of sympathy can chear^ 
 My melancholy bosom's sigh 
 Shall to your mournful plaint reply } 
 There to the fear-foiboding owl 
 The angry Furies hiss and howl ; 
 Or near the mountain's pendant brow 
 Where rush-clad streams in cadent murmurs 
 flow. 
 
 JEpode. 
 
 Who's he that with imploring eye 
 Salutes the rosy dawning sky ? 
 The cock proclaims the morn in vain. 
 His sp'rit to drive to its domain ; 
 For morning light can but return 
 To bid the wretched wail and mourn : 
 Not the bright dawning's purple eye 
 Can cause the frightful vapours fly? 
 
307 
 
 Nor sultry Sol's meridian throne 
 Can bid surrounding fears begone ; 
 The gloom of night will still preside, 
 While angry conscience stares on either side, 
 
 Strophe. 
 
 To ease his sore distempered head, 
 Sometimes upon the rocky bed 
 Reclin'd he lies, to list the sound 
 Of whispering reed in vale profound, 
 Happy if Morpheus visits there, 
 A while to lull his woe and care; 
 Send sweeter fancies to his aid, 
 And teach him to be undismayed ; 
 Yet wretched still, for when no more 
 The gods their opiate balsam pour, 
 Ah, me ! he starts, and views again 
 The Lybian monster prance along the plain, 
 
 Now from the oozing caves he flies, 
 And to the city's tumults hies, 
 Thinking to frolic life away, 
 Be ever cheerful, ever gay : 
 But tho' enwrapt in noise and smoke, 
 They ne'er can heal his peace when broken 
 His fears arise, he sighs again 
 For solitude on rural plain ; 
 Even there his wishes all conveen 
 To bear him to his noise again, 
 
308 
 
 Thus tortur'd, racked, and sore oppress t, 
 He constant hunts, hut never finds his rest, 
 
 Jlntistrophe. 
 
 Oh exercise ! thou healing pow'r, 
 The toiling rustics chiefest dower; 
 Be thou with parent virtue join ? 4 
 To quell the tumiiiis of the mind ; 
 Then mail as much of joy can share 
 From ruffian winter, bleakly bare, 
 As from the pure setherial blaze 
 That wantons in the summer rays ; 
 The humble cottage then can bring 
 Content, the comfort of a king ; 
 And gloomy mortals wish no mQre 
 For wealth and idleness to make them poor. 
 
ODE TO DISAPPOINTMENT. 
 
 I. 
 THOU joyous fiend, life's constant foe, 
 Sad source of care and spring of woe, 
 
 Soft pleasure's hard controul ; 
 Her gayest haunts for ever nigh, 
 Stern mistress of the secret sigh, 
 
 That swells the murm'ring soul. 
 
 II. 
 
 Why haunt'st thou me thro' desarts drear? 
 With grief-swoln sounds why wound my ear, 
 
 Denied to pitfs aid? 
 Thy visage wan did e'er I woo, 
 Or at thy feet in homage bow, 
 
 Or court thy sullen shade ? 
 
 III. 
 
 Even now enchanted scenes abound, 
 Elysian glories strew the ground, 
 
 To lure th' astonish'd eyes ; 
 Now Horrors, Hell, and Furies reign, 
 And desolate the fairy scene 
 
 Of all its gay disguise, 
 
310 
 
 IV. 
 
 The passions, at thy urgent call, 
 Our reasons and our sense enthrall 
 
 In frenzy's fetters strong : 
 And now despair with lurid eye 
 Doth meagre poverty descry, 
 
 Subdu'd by famine long. 
 
 V. 
 
 The lover flies the haunts of day, 
 In gloomy woods and wilds to stray, 
 
 There shuns his Jessy's scorn j 
 Sad sisters of the sighing grove 
 Attune their lyres to hapless love, 
 
 Dejected and forlorn. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Yet hope undaunted wears thy chain, 
 And smiles amidst the growing pain? 
 
 Nor fears thy sad dismay; 
 UnawM by power her fancy flies 
 From earth's dim orb to purer skies, 
 
 Realms of endless day. 
 
BXR&E. 
 
 THE waving yew or cypress wreath 
 In vain bequeathe the mighty tear 
 
 In vain the awful pomp of death 
 Attends the sable-shrouded bier. 
 
 
 IL 
 
 Since Strephon's virtue's sunk to rest, 
 Nor pity's sigh, nor sorrow's strain, 
 
 Nor magic tongue, have e'er confest 
 Our wounded bosom's secret pain. 
 
 III. 
 
 The just, the good, more honours share 
 In what the conscious heart bestows, 
 
 Than vice adorn'd with sculptor's care, 
 In all the venal pomp of woes. 
 
312 
 
 IV. 
 
 A sad-ey'd mourner at his tomb, 
 Thou, Friendship ! pay thy rites divine, 
 
 And echo thro' the midnight gloom 
 That Strephon's early fall was thine. 
 
HORACE; ODE XL LIB. L 
 
 NE'ER fash your thumb what gods decree 
 To be the weird o' you or me, 
 Nor deal in cantrip's kittle cunning 
 To spier how fast your days are running; 
 But patient lippen for the best. 
 Nor be in dowy thought opprest, 
 Whether we see mair winters come, 
 Than this that spits wi' canker'd foam. 
 
 Now moisten weel your geyzen'd wa'as 
 Wi' couthy friends and hearty Maws; 
 Ne'er lat your hope o'ergang your days, 
 For eild and thraldom never stays ; 
 The day looks gash, toot aff your horn, 
 Nor care yae strae about the morn. 
 
 D 6 
 
THE AUTHOR'S LIFE, 
 
 MY life is like the flowing stream 
 That glides where summer's beauties teem., 
 Meets all the riches of the gale 
 That on its watry bosom sail, 
 And wanders 'midst Elysian groves 
 Thro' all the haunts that fancy loves. 
 May I when drooping days decline, 
 And 'gainst those genial streams combine* 
 The winter's sad decay forsake, 
 And centre in my parent lake. 
 
SONG. 
 
 I. 
 
 SINCE brightest beauty soon must fade, 
 That in life's spring so long has roll'd; 
 
 And wither in the drooping shade, 
 E'er it return to native mould : 
 
 II. 
 
 Ye virgins, seize the fleeting hour, 
 
 In time catch Citherea's joy, 
 'Ere age your wonted smiles deflower, 
 
 And hopes of love and life annoy. 
 
 EPIGRAM, 
 
 On a Lawyer's desiring one of the Tribe to look with respect 
 to a Gibbet. 
 
 THE lawyer's may revere that tree 
 Where thieves so oft have strung, 
 
 Since, by the Law's most wise decree # 
 Her thieves arc never hung. 
 
On the AUTHOR'S intention or going to sea. 
 
 FORTUNE and Bob, e'er since his birth. 
 
 Could never yet agree, 
 She fairly kickt him from the earth 
 
 To try his fate at sea. 
 
 ■ 
 
 EPIGRAM, 
 
 Written Extempore, at the desire of a Gentleman who was rathe? 
 ill-favoured, but who had a beautiful Family of Children. 
 
 S — TT and his children emblems are 
 
 Of real good and evil ; 
 His children are like cherubirns, 
 
 But Sc — tt is like the devil. 
 
THE 
 
 VANITY OF HUMAN WISHES: 
 
 An Elegy, occasioned by the untimely Death of a Scots PotfTt 
 BY MR. JOHN T AIT, 
 
 Quis desiderio sit pudor, aut modus, 
 Tam cari capitis ? praecipe lugubres 
 Cantos, Melpomene: cui liquidam pater 
 Vocem cum cithara dedit. 
 
 How, 
 
 DARK was the night — and silence reigned 
 o'er all ; 
 No mirthful sounds urg'd on the lingering 
 hour : 
 The sheeted ghost stalked ghastly thro' the 
 hall, 
 And ev'ry breast confessed chill horror's 
 pow'r : 
 
 Slumbering I lay : I mus'd on human hopes : 
 " Vain, vain ; I cry'd, are all the hopes w<5 
 form ; 
 
 D d 3 
 
318 
 
 '•When winter comes, the sweetest flowret" 
 drops, 
 "And oaks themselves must bend before 
 the storm." 
 
 While thus I spake, a voice assaiPd my ear, 
 'Twas sad — 'twas slow — it filPcl my mind 
 with dread ! 
 " Forbear, it cry'd — thy moral lays forbear, 
 "Or change the strain — for Fergusson is 
 dead! 
 
 "Have we not seen him sporting on these 
 plains? 
 " Have we not heard him strike the Muse's 
 lyre ? 
 " Have we not felt the magic of his strains, 
 "Which often glowM with fancy's warmest 
 fire ? 
 
 <> Have we not hop'd these strains would long 
 be heard ? 
 " Have we not told how oft they touchM the 
 soul? 
 ;; And has not Scotia said, her youthful Bard 
 " Might spread her fame ov'n to the distant 
 pole ? 
 
319 
 
 & But vain, alas ! are all the hopes we raised y 
 " Death strikes the blow — they sink — their 
 reign is o'er ; 
 i l And these sweet songs, which we so oft have 
 prais'd — 
 "These mirthful strains shall now be heard 
 no more. 
 
 "This, this proclaims how vain are all the 
 
 \' Which we so ardently wish to attain; 
 " Since ruthless fate so oft, so soon destroys 
 "The high-born hopes ev'n of the Muses 
 train." 
 
 1 heard no more — The cook, with clarion 
 shrill, 
 Loudly proclaimed th' approach of morning 
 near — 
 The voice was gone — but yet I heard it still— 
 For every note was echoed back by fear. 
 
 "Perhaps, I cried, e'er yonder rising sun 
 " Shall sink his glories in the western 
 
 wave ; 
 " Perhaps 'ere then my race too may be run^ 
 " And I myself laid in the silent gravg. 
 
320 
 
 * Oft then, O mortals ! oft this dreadful truth 
 " Should be proclaimed — for fate is in the 
 sounds 
 " That genius, learning, health and vigorous 
 youth, 
 "May, in one day, in death's cold chains be 
 ' bound," 
 
A GLOSSARY; 
 
 OB, 
 
 Explanation of the words and phraseology used in tlw 
 foregoing Poems. 
 
 A, all, ay, always 
 
 Ablins, perhaps 
 
 Aboon, above 
 
 Ako9 
 
 Ahint, behind 
 
 Aik, oak 
 
 Aince, once, ain, one, yence, 
 once 
 
 Aith, oath 
 
 Aits, oats, aiten, reed the shep- 
 herds pipe 
 
 Airth, or airi, quarter of the 
 sky 
 
 Aithly, certainly, assuredly, ea- 
 sily 
 
 Alane, alone 
 
 Alschin, an awl 
 
 Amang, among 
 
 An', and 
 
 Ane, own 
 
 Antrin, here and there, now 
 and then 
 
 Anent, concerning', thereanent, 
 concerning it 
 
 Auld, old, auldfarrant wise 
 
 Ay, always 
 
 Auld-reikie, Edinburgh 
 
 Aught, eight 
 
 Awa> away 
 
 Bawbee, a halfpenny 
 
 Bank, beam or balance 
 
 Bauldi bold 
 
 Baithy both 
 
 Bane, bone 
 
 ^a', ball 
 
 j?aw, to swear 
 
 Bairn, child 
 
 Bandrins, the cat 
 
 Bannet, bonnet 
 
 Barra, borough 
 
 BardJy, brany stout 
 
 Baxter, a baker 
 
 Batie, a name given to a dog 
 
 Bannock, a very thick round 
 
 oat cake 
 Bassie, the name of a horse 
 Bailie, alderman 
 Bea sties, cattle 
 Beted, happened to, fell out 
 Beyont, beyond 
 Bent, the open field 
 Blear, watery-eyed, weeping, 
 
 disease of the eyes, faint 
 
 light 
 Beek, or beik, to bask 
 Bein, wealthy, comfortable 
 Bend, draught to drink 
 Ben, the inner room 
 Behady behold 
 
322 
 
 Beengene, bowing 
 
 Bedeen, immediately, in haste 
 
 Birk t birch tree 
 
 Big, build 
 
 Bink f a kitchen dresser 
 
 Bield, a shelter 
 
 Bicker, a wooden dish, a fight 
 among boys with stones, to 
 run 
 
 Birl, to join for liquor 
 
 Birkie, a waggish active fellow 
 
 Bike, a hive of bees in the 
 ground 
 
 Birn, burden, birns, the stalks 
 of burnt heath 
 
 Birze, to bruize 
 
 Bigg-en, building 
 
 Blaw, blow, blawn, blown 
 
 Blink, a glancing light, a little 
 while, a kind look 
 
 Bluegown, one of the beggars 
 who have been soldiers and 
 who get annually on the 
 king's birth-day a "blue cloak 
 or gown with a badge 
 
 Blade , blood 
 
 Blate, bashful 
 
 Blawart, a blue flower 
 
 Bluff y hearty, bold 
 
 Bonny, handsome, pretty 
 
 Boddle, a small Scotch coin 
 
 Boden, or hodden, provided or 
 furnished 
 
 Bourach, warren, grup, tuft 
 
 Bowie, a milk pail, a small tub 
 
 Bra 9 , fine in apparel, brave, ex- 
 cellent, fine appearance 
 
 Brae, the side of a hill, or bank 
 of a river 
 
 Breeks, breeches 
 
 Browster, a brewer, browster- 
 •wife, an ale-house keeper 
 
 Brose, oat meal scalded with 
 boiling water 
 
 Braid, broad 
 
 Broach, a clasp 
 
 Brulzie, a squabble, or combat 
 
 
 Brodit, pierced 
 
 Burn, a small run of water, or 
 
 brook 
 Buss, bush 
 Bulk, baked, a book, the body, 
 
 bulk 
 Busk, to dress fine 
 Bum, humming, as of bees 
 Buit, would 
 But, without 
 Bure, did bare 
 Bygane, bygone, bypast 
 Byre, cowstable. 
 
 Cadie, a young fellow, a mes- 
 senger, or guide in Edin- 
 burgh 
 
 Ca'd, drove, called 
 
 Cadgi, happy, cheerful 
 
 Caniily, cheerfully, canty, cheer- 
 ful 
 
 Callant, a boy 
 
 Carenaby, care not for 
 
 Caxdd, cold, caldnfe, suscepti- 
 ble of cold, spiritless, not af- 
 fectionate 
 
 Capernity, quarrelsome, mis- 
 chievous 
 
 Caller, fresh, sound, cool 
 
 Car line, a stout old woman 
 
 Carl, an old man 
 
 Cawsey, a paved street 
 
 Canty, merry, cheerful 
 
 Cap, or quegh, a turned wooden 
 dish 
 
 Cairn, a loose heap of stones &c, 
 
 Canzeed, coin, money 
 
 Chiel, a term like fellow, some- 
 times respectfully and some- 
 times contemptuously used 
 
 Chirm, or chirming, chirping 
 like birds 
 
 Cheap, to chirp as a bird, to 
 creak as a carriage whee« 
 
 Chappi?i, a quart 
 
33-3 
 
 Cladin, cloathing 
 
 Claver, clover 
 
 Clash, to tattle 
 
 Clarty, dirty, filthy 
 
 Claith, cloth 
 
 Clad, cloathed, covered 
 
 Clamehewit, an unlucky blow 
 
 Claw, scratch 
 
 Clung, empty, lean 
 
 Clugh, a cliff, a hollow between 
 
 two rocks 
 Cog, or Coggie, a wooden dish 
 made with staves and hoops,; 
 Coft, bought 
 Cowr, couch, creep 
 Collet/, or collie, a certain spe- 
 cies of dogs 
 Couth, comfortable, kind, lov- 
 ing, snug 
 Coble, a fishing boat 
 Coup, to tumble, to barter, a 
 gang, or riotous company, a 
 favour or favourable bargain 
 Coof, blockhead, a ninny 
 Corbie, a raven 
 
 Cow, to terrify, to keep under, 
 to lop or cut, a branch of wi- 
 thered heath, broom, &c an 
 imaginary thing to frighten 
 children or people timid by 
 night 
 Cod, a pillow 
 Coutev, ploughshare 
 Connoch, to eat greedily 
 Codroch, rude, clumsy 
 Cr.zmmin, cramming 
 Crack, to discourse 
 Crap, tile gizzard, the stomach, 
 
 crap, crop, crap, did creep 
 Craig, a rock, the throat or neck 
 Creesh, grease, to grease 
 Crowdy, a kind of pottage 
 Craw, crow 
 
 Crummy, the name of a cow 
 Cruizy, a lamp 
 Cronie, neighbour, companion 
 
 Cutty, short> a short spoon, a 
 
 short pipe, a short stool 
 Cuissers, a young stallion 
 Cosh, snug, in good order. 
 
 D 
 
 Daft, foolish, and sometimes 
 
 wanton 
 Daffen, play 
 
 Dang, did ding, beat, out strip 
 Danton, frighten or discourage 
 Dander, to wander 
 Dawnin, dawning 
 Dauts, to fondle, dawty, a favou- 
 rite 
 Dad, drive down, nock 
 Deacon, a person elected by an 
 
 incorporated trade as their 
 
 president 
 Dinlin, dennell, the same as dir* 
 
 rell 
 Dis, does 
 Dight, to wipe, to clean, to 
 
 make ready 
 Divit, a thin covering for houses 
 Dowie, melancholy, sad, sor- 
 rowful 
 Dool, sorrow, to sing dool, to 
 
 lament, to mourn 
 Docken, dock weed 
 Dinna, do not 
 Doited, dozed, or crazed as ia 
 
 old age 
 Doggie, a dog 
 Doup, the backside, the end of 
 
 a candle 
 Dour, suljen, stubborn, stout ? 
 
 durable 
 Doris, a proud pet, dorty, proud, 
 
 conceited, saucy, nice 
 Dosse, douse, or throw down 
 Donnart, stupid. See doited 
 Dow, can, is able, dowe, orpid* 
 
 geon 
 Douna, am not able 
 
3iM 
 
 Doited, worn with fatigue 
 Douk, to duck 
 
 Dovff, hollow, wanting vivacity 
 Drap, a drop, dribb, drop 
 Droukit, or drakat, draggled, 
 
 bespattered, drenched all 
 
 wet 
 Drucken, drunken 
 Dree, to suffer, to bare 
 Drumly, muddy 
 Dub, gutter 
 Dung) defeated, driven 
 Dudd, a tattered garment 
 Dunk, damp 
 Dwxam, qualm 
 Dwall, to deal. 
 
 E 
 
 Edina, or Edin, Edinburgh 
 
 Ein, eyes, eie, eye 
 
 Eithly, easily, eith, easy 
 
 Eild, age, old age 
 
 Eiening, withered up with 
 drouth 
 
 Eident, industrious 
 
 Eiry, shy, afraid 
 
 Eikit, joined, or spliced toge- 
 ther 
 
 Elden, fuel 
 
 Eneugh, enough 
 
 F 
 
 Fa' en, fallen, fa 9 , fall, befall 
 
 Faush, vex, or trouble 
 
 Fashous, troublesome 
 
 Fauld, fold for cattle 
 
 Faugh, a fallowed field 
 
 Fairnyear, last year 
 
 'jFcrirn, a present at a fair, some- 
 times a flogging 
 
 Fait, or feat, neat in person or 
 dress, spruce 
 
 Fadge, a spungy sort of bread 
 in the shape of a roll 
 
 Fand, found 
 
 Ferra co-w, one that gives milk 
 for two years without having 
 a calf 
 
 Ferlie, to wonder at, ferlies, 
 things wonderful or uncom- 
 mon 
 
 Fek, many, plenty 
 
 Feckless, weak, puny, rather in 
 poor health 
 
 Fenzing, feigning, pretending 
 
 Fend, or fen, shift, to live in- 
 dustriously and comfortably 
 
 Fell, keen, biting the flesh im- 
 mediately under the skin 
 
 Fifan, belonging to Fifeshire, 
 Scotland 
 
 Fin, fine 
 
 Fient, fiend 
 
 Flite, or flyte, to scold, chide 
 
 Fley, frighten, afjleyed, fright- 
 ened 
 
 Flung, defeated in design 
 
 Fleg, a fright, a blow 
 
 Flit, to remove 
 
 Fleetchin, to coax, wheedle, im- 
 portune 
 
 Flit, to move 
 
 Findrum, speldins, dried had- 
 docks 
 
 Flunkey, a valet 
 
 Foulfa 9 , evil befall 
 
 Fouth, plenty, enough, or more 
 than enough 
 
 Fouk, folk 
 
 Forespak, forboded 
 
 For't, for it 
 
 Forgather, to meet, to encoun- 
 ter 
 
 Fovsom, unwholesome, disgust- 
 ing 
 
 Forseeth, fbrsooth 
 
 Foy, a parting treat 
 
 Freaks, whims, pranks 
 
 Frae, from 
 
 Fudlin, drinking 
 
%%0 
 
 Fu\ full, intoxicated with li- 
 quor 
 
 G 
 
 Gane, gone, gaivn, gowing, 
 
 gaed, went 
 Gab, the mouth, to talk perthy 
 Gang, to go, gaed, went 
 Gaudsman, ploughboy 
 Gar, compel, gart, compelled 
 Ga\, gall 
 
 Gamy, jolly, buxom 
 Gantrie, a bench or horse for 
 
 beer barrel, to stand on 
 Gardies, 
 Gash, smartly, sagacious, for- 
 
 wardly, talkative 
 Gaist, ghost 
 
 Gear, riches, goods of any kind 
 Geek, to toss the head in wan- 
 tonness or scorn 
 Gif, or gin, if 
 Gie, give, gae, did give 
 Gizzen'd, shrunk with drought 
 Gimmer, companion, associate 
 Girnel, a store of grain, a meaj 
 
 chest 
 Gillet, jilt 
 Girdle, griddle 
 Gird, a hoop 
 Girn, grin, to weep, greet, to 
 
 cry, grat, did cry 
 Glower, to stare, to look, a 
 
 stare, a look 
 Glaiket, idle, thoughtless, got 
 
 the glaiks, beguiled 
 Glomin, the twilight 
 Gled, ■■:■ kite 
 
 Gleg, sharp, quick, active 
 Goivdpink, goldfinch 
 Go-wan, wild daisy 
 Gowk, a cuckoo, a foolish per- 
 son 
 Gowpin, the full of your two 
 
 hands joined together 
 Gree, to agree, victory 
 
 Grmdijfticniture, aceoutrimenta 
 Green, to wish or long for 
 Grane, groan 
 Grassum, gratis 
 Gutcher, grandfather. 
 Gudeman, and gudewife, masfer 
 
 and mistress of the house 
 Gusty, savory, high seasoned 
 Gulzie, or gully, a long knife 
 
 H 
 
 Hame, home 
 
 Hallow-e'en, the 31st of October 
 
 Hae> have, had, hold 
 
 Haly, holy 
 
 Haughs, low lying rich lands , 
 
 valleys 
 liar' st, harvest 
 Hans, the gullet or throat 
 Rafiins, nearly the half 
 Halesom, wholesome, healthful 
 Hap, a covering, to wrap, to 
 
 hop 
 Haffit, the side of the head 
 Ha\ hall 
 
 Haind, saved, laid up 
 Harl, drag 
 Holland, or hallan, a partition 
 
 wall in a cottage 
 Ha-wkie, a common name given, 
 
 to a cow 
 Haiverel, a halfwitted person 
 Hech ! Oh ! strange ! 
 
 Heese, to raise, to lift up 
 
 Helter-skelter, hastily* rashly, 
 confusedly 
 
 Hether, heath 
 
 Her He, to plunder 
 
 Heart-scad, heart burn 
 
 Himsel, himself. 
 
 Hip, to miss in reading, 8$c. 
 
 Hinny, honey 
 
 Houp, hope 
 
 Hooly, careful, slowly ^ 
 
 /Tow, a hollow between the hills 
 
 Houf 9 a place of resort 
 
 E e 
 
326 
 
 Hodin, lxomespun vvoollencloth 
 Jfowdefi, creep together, hide 
 Hurdles, the posteriors 
 Hawk, dig, howked, digged 
 B , jolt 
 
 hunt with dogs as a 
 si p.erd 
 Hyn, hastening. 
 
 .Tin 
 
 Ilk, or ilka, each, every 
 Ingle, fire in a fire-place 
 //Aer, other. 
 
 Joe, a sweetheart 
 JooJ, liquor, swill 
 Jow 9 toll as a bell. 
 
 K 
 
 Kail, a plant of the cabbage 
 kind, sometimes broth 
 
 Kane, a tax paid in poultry to 
 the lord of the manor 
 
 Kaim, comb 
 
 Kent, knew, ken, to know 
 
 Kern, a churn, to churn 
 
 Kebbuik, a cheese 
 
 Keppit, stopped 
 
 Keek, peep 
 
 Kittle, difficult, mysterious, 
 knotty, to tickle 
 
 Kirk, church 
 
 Kist, a chest 
 
 Knifely, sharply, cuttingly 
 
 Know, a hillock 
 
 Ky, cow 
 
 Kyte, the belly 
 
 Kyth, to appear, to prosper. 
 
 Laverock, sky-lark 
 
 Langer, longer, lang, long 
 
 Laird, owner of land 
 
 Lasses, maidens, girls 
 
 Lave, the rest, the remainder 
 
 Laith, loth 
 
 Latven, or laivin, a tavern reck- 
 oning 
 
 Land o* cakes, Scotland 
 
 Laighlen, a milking pale, or 
 pale for other purposes 
 
 Leal, loyal, true, upright, ho- 
 nest 
 
 Lear, learning 
 
 Ley, or lee, unploughed land, 
 land of the first year's plough- 
 ing, a green field, a warm 
 sheltered place 
 
 Lerroch, a place for an easy 
 chair to stand in 
 
 Leesh, lashed 
 
 Lightlyin, snearing 
 
 Lilt, a ballad, to sing a tune 
 
 Lith, a joint 
 
 Lift, the sky 
 
 Lingans, or lingals, the thread 
 which a shoemaker sews with 
 
 Limmer, a bad woman, a light 
 girl 
 
 Livin, living, provision, main- 
 tenance 
 
 Lintie, or lintxvhite, a linnet 
 
 Lore, talent, instruction 
 
 Lounder, a rude blow 
 
 Loup, to leap, or jump 
 
 Loufi, a young boy, a soft lad, a 
 rogue 
 
 Loof, the palm of the hand 
 
 Lochaber-aix, an ancient wea- 
 pon of war 
 
 Loo, or hive, love, loes, loe, the 
 same 
 
 Lout, stoop, did let, 
 
 Lug, ear 
 
 Lum, chimney 
 
 Luckie, grandmother, goody 
 
 Luckenbooths, clumsy block of 
 houses aukwardly situated in 
 
32.7 
 
 the middle of the high street 
 
 of Edinburgh 
 Lure, rather. 
 
 Lyart, hoary, or grey headed 
 Lyrth, warm and sheltered, to 
 
 thicken broth 
 
 M 
 
 Maish most, amaist, almost 
 
 Ma k, make 
 
 Maen, lament 
 
 •Hair, more 
 
 Mart, fatted cattle killed about 
 the 1st of November and salt- 
 ed up for family use 
 
 Maments, moments 
 
 Mailin, a farm 
 
 Maunna, must not, maun, must 
 
 Maukin, the hare 
 
 Maister, chamber lye 
 
 Messjohn, a priest or curate 
 
 Menzies, a large company of 
 men or followers, an army, 
 assembly, confused crowd 
 
 Meltith, a meal 
 
 Mirk, dark 
 
 Mishanter, mischief 
 
 Misand, musing 
 
 Misleard, easily defeated, a- 
 fraid, unmannerly 
 
 Mou, mouth 
 
 Mony, many 
 
 Monsmeg, a great gun formerly 
 in the fortress of Edinburgh 
 of a very large calibre 
 
 Muc, to clear dung from the 
 stable 
 
 Muckle, or meikle, much, or 
 large, muckle maun, very big 
 
 Multer, a toll paid to the miller 
 
 Mutche, a cap vtovn by women 
 
 My sell, myself 
 
 N 
 J\% no, not, nane, none 
 
 Nae, no, not any 
 
 JYeist, next 
 
 JVebb, bill of a bird, the point 
 
 Mcker, to laugh, to neigh as a 
 
 horse 
 JYickstick, a tallystick 
 JVippin, nipping, pinching 
 Nook, a corner 
 Norvt, oxen 
 Notar, notary public. 
 
 O 
 
 0/io72 / oh ! alas ! 
 
 Ony, any 
 
 0\ of 
 
 Orrow, to spare, any thing over 
 
 07, of it 
 
 Owk, week 
 
 Owsen, oxen 
 
 Owr, over. 
 
 Pauky, sly, cunning, witty 
 
 Parritch, oatmeal pudding, a 
 well known Scotch dish 
 
 Pakes, chastisement 
 
 Partans, a species of crabs 
 
 Peaceful, peaceful 
 
 Pechin, to pant, to breath short 
 
 Peat, or peet, turf for fire 
 
 Pelf, lucre, money 
 
 Pickle, a small quantity 
 
 Pibroch, martial music on the 
 bagpipes 
 
 Pit, put 
 
 Pig, an earthen jar 
 
 Pirn, or pirney, a spool 
 
 Pleugh, plough 
 
 Plaidie, or plaid, crossed strip- 
 ed woollen cloth, the cover- 
 ing made out of this cloth 
 
 Plack, a small Scotch coin^ a 
 trifle, plackless, poor, with- 
 out means 
 
 Plucke, pimple 
 
328 
 
 -Pley, a debate, a quarrel 
 
 Poiv, the head 
 
 Pose, purse, a deposit 
 
 Pock, bag* 
 
 Poortith, poverty 
 
 Prie, taste 
 
 Prieven, a tasteing 
 
 Provost, mayor 
 
 Prig, impQrtujie, to cheapen 
 
 the price 
 Puddock, frog. 
 
 Q 
 
 Quo*, forsay, or said, quptk 
 Qiiat, did quit 
 Qu&fi a young cow. 
 
 R 
 
 Rantin, joyous, jolly 
 
 Rax, to stretch, to grow 
 
 Reek, smoke, reeky, smoky 
 
 Jiemeid, remedy 
 
 Respecket, respected 
 
 Ream, cream, reaming, foam- 
 ing 
 
 Reath, a quarter of a year 
 
 Reesle, rustle 
 
 Rin, run, to run 
 
 Rife, abundant 
 
 Rift, to belch 
 
 Rig, a ridge, riggin, the roof 
 of a house 
 
 Roivt, to roar, especially the 
 roaring of bulls and cows 
 
 Roset, rosin 
 
 Rokely, a long cloak or mantle 
 
 Roose, or ruise, to extol with 
 flattery 
 
 Rook, reduce, rookit, to loose 
 
 Runkki wrinkle 
 
 Ruck, a rick of hay, or stalk of 
 corn 
 
 Rug, rive, to pull, a good many, 
 a good deal 
 
 Rung, cudgel. 
 
 Saxv, so wen 
 
 Sang, a song, sangster, a singer 
 
 Sair, sore 
 
 Sae, so 
 
 Saul, soul 
 
 Sax, six 
 
 Sark, shirt 'or shift 
 
 Sattlin, settling 
 
 Saft, soft 
 
 Saut, salt, sauted, salted 
 
 Sail, shall 
 
 Sair'd, served 
 
 Scantlin, scantly, scsrcely 
 
 Screed, to tear a rent 
 
 Scrap, did scrape, swapin, scra- 
 ping 
 
 Scoivder, or scouther, to s'corch, 
 to singe 
 
 Scunner, to loathe 
 
 Scauld, one who scolds, to scold 
 
 Seated, scabbed} of no value 
 
 Scape, a bee hive 
 
 Scough, skulk, start 
 
 Solutes, slates 
 
 Set, self, youriell, yourself 
 
 Seenil, seldom 
 
 SelVd, sold 
 
 Sey-piece, master piece 
 
 Shinen, shining, sheen, clear, 
 shining 
 
 Shato, to shew, a small wood in 
 a hollow place 
 
 Shoon, shoes 
 
 Shanna, shall not 
 
 Sin, since 
 
 Sicker, sure 
 
 Sic, such 
 
 Simmer, summer 
 
 Siller, money 
 
 Sib, a kin, related 
 
 Skaith, harm, hurt, loss, ex- 
 pense 
 
 Skelpin, slapping, running fast 
 
 Skair, share or portion 
 
 Skirl, screech 
 
3S9 
 
 Shelf, shelf 
 
 &k&» s/oe, the fruit of the black 
 
 thorn 
 Sleek, sty, artful and cunning 1 , 
 
 smooth, slee, sly 
 Slaister, dirty work 
 Slaw, slow 
 
 Slacken, to allay thirst 
 Sma'est, smallest, sma 9 , small* 
 
 little 
 Stneek, smoke 
 Smore, smother 
 Sna-w, snow, snawy, snowy 
 Snod, neat, handsome, tight 
 Sow/, to con over a tune on an 
 
 instrument 
 Sqw'?is, flummery 
 Sock, part of a plough 
 Soun, sound 
 Souk, to fine 
 Soum, to swim, a particular 
 
 number of sheep or black 
 
 cattle, the air, lag of a fish 
 Sough, the soft whispering 1 
 
 noise of the wind among 
 
 trees 
 Spear, ask, inquire 
 Spaul, a bone, a limb 
 Spae, to foretel 
 Spulzle, to cheat, to trick, to 
 
 wheedle 
 Spraings, stripes of different 
 
 colours 
 Spats, spots 
 Squad, a crew or party 
 Stane, stone, a weight of 16 
 
 pounds 
 Stoup, a pewter measure for li- 
 quor, a long bucket to carry 
 
 water or milk 
 Siirrach, or stirr, sirrach, or sir, 
 
 sometimes used contemptu- 
 ously, a fop 
 Stap, step, stapp, to fill, to stop 
 
 up 
 Stent, task 
 Stravaig, to stroll, or wander 
 
 Strae, straw 
 
 Straik, stroke or blow 
 
 Steeve, stiff, stout, firm 
 
 Strath, a plain on a river side 
 
 Stoiter, stagger 
 
 Stilt, handle of a plough, a 
 
 crutch 
 Stoxvn, stolen 
 Starn, or starnie, a star 
 Stan', stand, stannin, standing 
 Steek, to shut 
 Steghin, eating greedily, gorge- 
 
 ing 
 Sucker, sugar 
 Stvaird, the surface of the grass 
 
 the breadth one takes before 
 
 them when cutting with a 
 
 scythe 
 Stvyth / avaunt, make haste, fy 
 Sxuack, to throw with force* 
 
 tight, active 
 Syne, afterwards. 
 
 Tap, top 
 
 Tak, take, taen, taken 
 
 Ta°8, toes 
 
 Tartan, cross striped cloth of 
 
 various colours 
 Tack, a lease 
 Taxman, he who leases a farm 
 
 from the owner 
 Tane, one of the two 
 Tent, care, to take care 
 Teugh, tough 
 Teysday, Tuesday 
 Teat, small quantity 
 Thegither, together 
 Thrave, did thrive 
 Thole, bear with 
 Thir, these, thae, those 
 Thratvart, froward, cross, crab* 
 Threave, 24 sheafs of grain, or 
 
 bun dels of straw 
 Thof, although 
 Thackity thached 
 
330 
 
 Thereout, without, in the field 
 
 Thristle, or thisel, thistle 
 
 Tinkler, tinker 
 
 Tint lost, tyite, to loose 
 
 Tid, the proper time, caprice, 
 
 whim 
 Tig, a notion 
 Tir, to uncover 
 Toom, empty, teem, the same 
 Todle, to run or walk, loitering 
 
 like a child 
 Toutit, draxik,tout, to blow a horn 
 Touzle, or toustle, to rumple, 
 
 teaze 
 Troth, truth, a petty oath 
 Trig-, neat, trim 
 Tullochgoram, a Highland tune, 
 
 a dance 
 Tulzie, a quarrel, trouble, to 
 
 fight 
 Txvin'd, plundered, cheated 
 Twa, two 
 Twalt, twelfth 
 TtDomonth, twelvemonth 
 Tyne, loose 5 tynt, lost. 
 
 U 
 
 Uncanny, evil disposed, having 
 
 the power of witchcraft 
 Unco, strange, uncos, news 
 Ulzie, or z/fy, oil 
 Wpo\ upon 
 
 V 
 
 Vacance, vacation 
 Yogie, elevated, proud. 
 
 W 
 
 Wae, woe, sorrowful, waefu 9 , 
 
 sorrowful 
 Warldly, worldly, world, world 
 Waessucks, the same as alas, 
 
 woes me 
 Wark, work 
 
 Wat, or wit, or wile, or fc»as£, to 
 
 know 
 Wallie, ample, large, jolly, trin- 
 kets 
 Wanruly, unruly 
 Wad, would, wadna, would not 
 Wa' 9 wall, way 
 Ware, to spend 
 Warlock, a wizzard 
 Wanworthy, unworthy 
 Wauken, waken 
 Wanchancy, unlucky 
 Wantworth, no worth, no value 
 WeeU well, weelfare, wellfare 
 Weir, war, a place to catch fish 
 Weym, the belly 
 Weir, destiny 
 Weelfared, handsome, well look 
 
 ing 
 Wearin-on, drawing nigh 
 JVerU, were it 
 Wha, who 
 Whang, a large slice, a strap o 
 
 leather 
 Whisht, hush 
 Whilk, which 
 Whittle, a knife, a sword 
 Whumble, to turn upside down 
 Wi\ with 
 Winna, will not 
 W.Ulawins! alas ! woes me ! 
 Windock, or winnock, a windo\ 
 Wizen, the throat 
 Winsome, an agreeable desii 
 
 able woman, valuable, to bi 
 
 boasted of 
 Win, to pass, to dwell, to resid, 
 Withouten, without 
 Wirrikow, a bug bear 
 Winnelstrae, a stalk of grass 
 Woo\ wool 
 Woedie, a wreath, sometimes 4 
 
 halter for a criminal 
 Wow/ O ! or dear me ! 
 Wraith, ominous apparitio^ 
 
 ghost, spectre 
 Wud, wild, mad 
 
331 
 
 Wyte, blame 
 
 Wylie, artful, to whiddle, to 
 cheat 
 
 Tap, hungry, greedy 
 Yarkit, jerked, lashed 
 
 Yestreen, last night 
 
 Ye've, ye have, or you have 
 
 Yello-wchin, bawling, screaming 
 
 Yirdy earth, ground 
 
 Youf, to bark, youf'd, did bark 
 
 Yoivl, to howl 
 
 Yule, Christmas. 
 
 TlfE END. 
 
7 41 
 
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