HMHrr s -$^V-;:.'-;;; : .. 'MM&gsssk v ^ VVV^/ v ffi \VvjVvv,, i .vg u w v THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES SCOTS POEMS B Y WILLIAM TAYLOR. Seria, fee here, mixta jocis ; Or Jefts wi' Earnefts in fome locis. EDINBURGH: PRINTED FOR THE AUTHOR, M,DCC,LXXXVH. SCOTS "POEMS. PREFACE TO THE READER. AE day, while I was mufin i my mind On jarrin principles o' things ill- join'd; \Vi' a toom pouch, an' plenimin but mean, In a wee hut moufe-webb'd, an' far frae clean ; On hair-mould bannocks fed an' barefoot kail, Withoutten whawkie or a nog o' ale, Aragget coat was o'er my fhouthers thrown, A ragget coat ; for night-gown I had none ; My pow too, fave a haf-year's growth o' hair, Bot either bannet or a cowl, was bare ; .789773 312 T/r, ( 4 ) My beard an owk had grown, o' gowden hue ; My duddy fark, three twalmonths fin' 'twas new; Clofe-hipp'd I fat, thereby defign'd to hide Some breekifh holes, appearin when I ftride; Whilft garterlefs, my thruminy-wheelin hofe O* my lean houghs haf hap, an' haf expofe : An' to go on, as you yourfel' might fpae, Thro' my auld bachle peep'd my muckle tae; Dreft, weftlin Zephyr *, a-la-mode, my lugs GarM ring, wi' " Helicon is poor tit tis j " drugs. An' as I had a Poet's portion got, Upo' that hint I fcour'd my rufty throat. * Alluding to a hole in the weft end of my houfe, through which the wind blows in often very violently. PREAMBLE. NOW after Preface, here's Preamble > I'll let my fancy tak a ramble, An' o'er the country let her fcramble, To try her ikill In the poetic fort o' gamble, Come neiil what will. Loup down, my Afw/r, frae heegh Parnaffus, An' help a wee to fing what pafles j Let nae daft norie fae biafs us, As gar us dread, Tho' poortith terribly harafs us To mount the Jlced. Ife no claw Minnie's hip, like Sots, Frae England's grun to Johnny Groat's, I'll fpur thejtefd for clinkin notes, Fu' leal, my Lafs, An' fume droll truths mgude braid Scots Together clafs. ( 6 ) Gin ony body can do better, Let him flap in a word or letter, Ife frankly own myfel his debtor For plack an* boddle, An' than jog on wi' rhytnin fmatter To toom my noddle. Sae, Lqfs 9 kilt up your coats, nae fear, Tho* fcant o' calh wefe gar them fneer ; Wha' kens but for't we may get gear Till we be ftawt, Whan I aim-year comes for this bad year ;< I wiih we faw't. ( 7 ) F E R L I E S. I// faclnus juraffe putes, In afe bruntatos fore doutes ? WHEN ither Poets were nae fcarce, Auld HORACE fung in Latin verfe. Come here, my friends, an' fee a farce, An odd like thing, A woman's head on I'll rehearfe Nae fie a fling. When I gaed heegh up to the Moon, I faw a Coble r foalin fhoon, Atweel he was a jolly lown, Gude o' his trade : But had I bidden higher down, I'd better fped. When I gaed down aneath the yird, I faw a waefu' ugly Bird Streek out his nib to let a dird At ftranger Af An' gar new houfes fpeel the lift Upo' its weftlin cheekie. VII. O'er Buitland-landsy rough tho' they be, There ay is wealth o' cheefe an' bread ; Content fmiles in Simplicity, An f Luxry darena cock his head : O' Cockburn-parks an' Bankhead-braes^ I fpeak wi' muckle pleafure, For art an' nature there combin'd, Are contemplation's treafure. VIII. O Ravelrig, o' profpecl: fweet, Wi' manfion houfe, an' gardens gay, Your ftrudlure fair, an' rooms fae neat, Your owner's noble tafte difplay. O' Currie-hill, what can I fay, But that its gude an' bonny ; About the houfe, and thro' the fields. Where bees do gather honey, IX. An' at Klerhlll an' Warrifton, Where feed the farrow Cow an' Steer, Where Horfes neigh an' Sheep do bleat, Their mufic fweet delights the ear, When I pafs by the grazin herds, My heart grows ay fu' canty ; Succefs to Horfes, Nowt, and Sheep, May leal fowk ay hae plenty. X. At Hermifton, an' eke Redheugbs, For barley, aits, an' fields o' wheat, Nae barren foil the Swain there plows 5 But Ceres fmiles wi' joy compleat : In Muirlan fields, frae Currie fouth, Where vittal has lefs bleedin, The Lap-wing lilteth o'er the lee, While Ewes an' Lambs are feedin. XI. An' Gurrif-kirk, of area wide, An' fplendid waws, erecl: an' high, Wi' fpacious roof, of Efdale pride, An' fteeple tow'rin to the fky, Attracts the fancy of a' thofe Wha pafs the Parifli thorow : Frae Forth to Tweed, in ony Town, Forfooth it has nae marrow. XII. Nor can I by the Pajlor pafs, Wha cultivates his native art, ( 23 ) To todch the fenfes o' ilk clafs, An' to correft the wildeft heart : Then what is a' her outward glare To what exifts within her, While freely he bodes haly ware * Baith to the Saint an* Sinner. XIII. Let ither Lades ufe their art, By painted cheeks an' foreign drefs, Our Currie LaJJes catch the heart In hame-fpun gowns, nor look the lefs For country cheer an' Lads fae gay, For fields baith green and yallow, For Sages wife, and Matrons douce, Our Parifh has nae fallow. * Ifaiah Iv. The Battle o 5 John Ploughman wi' his Mither, ca'd Grannie, his Wife, ca'd Sleepy Meg, an' his Dochter, Fodgel Jefs. Arma t uirumqus virafque cano, Fightamque virarum cum Plougbmanno. IN frae the pleugh wi' toom, toom guts Comes John, an', manfully he ftruts, Cries, hafte ye, fefli, ye lazy fluts, Some meat to me, Or foon I'll die. Out than cried Sleepy Meg an' Jtft, The furly brute might had wi' lefs ; In haf an hour hefe get his mefs O' crowdy-mowdy, An' frefh powfowdy ; Or, O' meal an' thrammel Like Geordie Cammel*. What the mifhanter, than cried John, Tho' fair I work your bread to win, Yet little thank ye do me cun ; Pox o' your fnotties An' i' your coatties. An odd debate did than enfue ; Wha was to blame nae ane cou'd trow, But Mtg to (lick, bauld Grannie flew, Wi' a dread elfliin Made by great Vulcan. Out than cried John, what means the jade ? I think the fowk are a' gaun mad ; An' Grannie t crown fu' well he claw'd, An' 'neath her kirtle, E'en wi' the fpurtle. An' thus gaed on the mafhlach feght ; To cawm them a', John Ploughman heght, * A neighbour who got a feed of meal and thrammal generally when he came in from the plough. D Sae ftrak, an' the twa Carllns peght. An' (Irak again, Wi' might an' main. Brave Jefly> wi' an etnach cud, Than gae her Daddie fie a thud, As gar'd the Hero fqueel like wud, Blethrin fie wordies, As d your h dies. Meg than did fcart her Dochters lip, An' Jefs her Daddie 's lug did nipj; j An' he did bite auld Grannie s hip Until {he f tit, Then back he ftartit. He than did kick auld Grannie 9 s d , She thum o' Meg affjoint gar'd loup ; Keen a' feught 'twifh defpair and houp, While Mars amaz'd Upo' them gaz'd. At laft brave Jefs, the fodgel junt, Did had Dad*s hands till the auld runt ? Wi' boilin broe, John Ploughman brunt, Which quell'd the fray For that hale day. Mars then declar'd, he for that feaft, (I mean to lig on Jejiis bread) Wou'd nae mair mak the Smith * a beaft f, But thereto ftentit Wou'd reft contentit. * Vulcan. f A Cuckold, commonly called a horned beaft. ( 28 ) To a Friend on the Death of a Son. Non femper imbres nubibus hifpidos Manant in agros. HORACE. But that my Mufe may fmg ivi eafe 9 m keep or drap him as I pleafe. RAMSAY. I. THE teeming clouds do not for ay On Earth pour down the foft'ning rain ; Nor ftormy winds for ever play Upon the furface of the Main. II. Lakes are not fmooth'd with icy plain ; ^ Nor hills the fnowy vefture wear ; Nor limpid dreams the frods reftrain Thro' all the f eafons of the year. III. The boift'rous winds 'gainft the (lout oak, With conftant gales don't always blow ; Tho' trees are ftript by Winter's ftroke, They do not dill continue fo. IV. But thou, my Friend, dod dill bemoan The lofs of thy fweet darling Boy, Whom Tyrant Death, who doth fpare none, Grudg'd that thou longer fhim'd'ft enjoy. V. In waking nights you dill complain, And fadly vent your heavy fighs ; You eke keep up your doleful drain When bright Aurora gilds the ikies. ( 30 ) VI. King NeJIor, who three ages liv'd, Did not fo much his Son bewail ; Nor was King Priam's Court fo griev'd For tht fair Prince Troilus* fall. VII. Pray, then, at laft the briny tide Dry up, and all your grief controul j Put now your groans and fighs afide, Which do befpeak a female foul. VIII. Pray rather come, and with me join. And lofty George s trophies (ing, How Grafff, the boaft of Gallic line, Rodney did to fubjedlion bring. IX. How haughty foes quafh'd by our arms Have fled, while we the field did keep j How Britain^ freed from war's alarms, Doth reign the Miftrefs of the deep. SOLOMON'S GHAIST, A DROLL Auld Man his grun' did plow, Whilft heat gar'd fweat dreep down his brow ; An* i' the yird he cooft fie feed As might produce his Winter's bread, Whan fuddenly he did efpy, Aneath a fpreadin aik hard by, A Vifion, of afpec*l divine, Which to accoft he did decline ; Than faid the Ghaift, in mildeft tone, 1 What doft thou mean ? I'm Solomon. Than faid the Man, why do ye fpier I My youthfu' leflbn, Thou, to lear, Didft to the bizzy Ant * me fen', Whafe induftry I do inten* To imitate, as you may fee j Fu' thrifty leffons taught (he me. * Prov. vi. 6. s Daft Gowk ! to him the Ghaijl replies, I fee by hafs ye' re only wife ; Gang to the Ant, an' lear fome mair, Whan Winter comes {he quits her care ; An' as ye're auld, fae ye (hou'd reft, Wi' fruits o' youthfu' labour bleft. ( 33 ) To one making a mock of Religion. OBR1THER * P e, ye're furely dafc To rifk your faul for trafh ; An' your burlefquin haly rites, May fome day breed you fafli. II. Though ye rejoice 'caufe ye are young f , Yet think o' yonder dome, Where Lazarus J, to cool a tongne, Frae Abie winna come. III. O Billy dear ! grow wife in time j Revere the Sacred Text, * I account all Men Brethren, f Ecclef. xi. 9. \. Luke xvi. 24. E ( 34 ) An* 'ere the prefent life be paft, Do fomething for the next. IV. Your gracelefs daffin lay afide, An' Wifdom's paths purfue ; Left Satan, as ye've mocked him, Get time-about wi' you. ( 35 ) THE IRON AGE. Efodiuntur opes, irritamenta malorum. OVID, AN earthquake comes, abyflus gapes, An' fpues out rage in mony ihapes ; Man naked comes frae Minnies wyme, To tread the giddy ftage o' time, Yet fcarcely can he face the earth, Till Dad pay three-pence * for his birth 5 Nor can he get his meat an' drink, Till liberty be bought wi' clink. His head an' hands he maunna hap, For fear a beagle fhou'd him flap, Till he hae paid ihe ftatute dues, An' penalty gin he refufe. To wooe fcarce can he mount his horfe, Till he buy freedom wi' his purfe ; * A Poll Tax was ufual among the Romans, and it furely cannot be wrong to reduce Roman coin to Britifh coin. ( 36 ) An' fhou'd the Nymph grant his deman*, Confentin to the marriage ban' ; To bed his Wife he maunna tak, Till he pay thrice the lucky plack. His Bull about now darena fkip, Without a mark upo* his hip ; Nor can a leal Cow gie him bead, Without a two-pence at the lead. When he the bizzy roun' hath trod, An' quietly wants to flip to Nod ; He fcarce can mint to clofe an eie Till he a quarter fhillin gie ; Then he may to Aftr/ea foar, Or trudge to Pluto s gloomy fhore. I 37 ) The Mountain in Labour ; OR, Muckle Whiftlin for little Red- Land. I. AE day was fpread an odd report, A Mountain was in labour ; To it a' body did refort To fee a young Mount-Tabor. II. Triformis Hoiudle * did her fkill, For the blyth-meat exert, While Mountain vow'd to mak her will, An' in child-bed depart. * Diana. Horace, Book III. Ode 22. ( 38 ) III. In weeds o* wae the bodies flood, Bewailin her hard fate ; While frae their eien gufh'd tears o' bluid Like a September Jp ate. IV. At la ft came only forth a Moufe, A bonny leefome child ; The bociies then cried, what the deuce ? Moft fweetly we're beguil'd. ( 39 ) RURAL HAPPINESS. Interview between the Squire and Roger. I. IN days o' yore, as ftory tells, "Whan Scotland was a Nation ; Whan Fairies hauntit hills an' dales, An' bred fowk great vexation. II. Whan Phoebus crap frae Thetis' lap, Wi' gowd the hills adornin, An' a* Hobgoblins took their nap Right early i' the mornin ; III. A Squire gaed furth to view the Spring Perfum'd wi' Flora's beauty, Vfha.u Swains were chear'd by Lav'rock's fang To labour at their dgty. ( 40 ) IV. Whan to the fields the Squire did hie To hear the warblers wooin, A bit forby, he did efpy, A Swain fu' blythly plowin. V. Harafs'd the Squire, with anxious care, (Ilk morn his grief renewin) To plough did fteer, wiftiin to lear "Whence happinefs was flowin. VI. At Roger than the Squire did fpier, What gar'd him foufF fae canty ? Than Roger faid, when yokin's o'er, Graun Sir, I fall acquaint ye. HAPPINESS, Defcribed by ROGER in oVr, than down they fat. An Roger turfd his rujlic reed ; M rural happinefs tofing Wi mirth an' glee, did thus proceed : s I. AMBITION proud ! ye maun be gone, I court nae grandeur nor high fame 5 A flatt'rin title's but a pun ; I care na for a gentle name. II. Whan frae her neft the Lark doth foar Wi* fingin heart, at rifin morn, I neither ileep nor flumber more, But fluggifh bowfters flee wi' fcorn. F ( 4* ) III. In Spring I plow my inlan' fields Wi' weel fed Aivers an' my Steers, The halefome crap my grun' than yields, Frees me frae pinchin hunger's fears, IV, Alang my banks do bum my Bees, Amo' the rocks my Goats I keep, In bogs my Nowt low thro' the trees, An' o' the hills do bjeat my Sheep. V. My fprings, my leas, an 1 meadow grafs Sic health on Cattle do beftow, That feldom hae I felt the lofs O' Gloyd or Cow, Oufe, Goat or Yowe f VI. In Simmer months, wi' gowans gay, I ten' my Flocks, dine on a fod ; Yea ten' my Flocks the live-lang day, At e'enin than I flip to Nod. ( 43 ) VII. For palaces, the pride o' ftate, I wou'd na gie my thackit hut ; Wi' Lords or Dukes, my hamely fate In balance I wou'd never put. VIII. In Harveft months, when rigs are clad Wi' fturdy ftawks o' ripen'd corn ; The crap I cut, the fields I red, Wi' chearfu* heart and wooer's fcorn. IX. Whan Winter frofls an* fnaw come in, Cock't on a ftool ayont the ingle, I tune my pipe, an* beek my fhin ; My muGc gars my cottie dingle. X. My grufhy wee-anes roun* my knee, Sometimes do clim' an' fometimes tumble, At fupper-time, wi' fated eie, We tak our fowens bot a grumble. ( 44 ) XL Syne to their bed the Wee-anes gang, An* after that my Peg an* I ; The Lads and Lafles, than or lang, Whan they get ilka thing fet by. XII. i I clafp fhy han's roun' Peggy's neck, Her ruby lips I fweetly kifs ; Enjoy ilk charm without a check, Far fweeter than forbidden blifs. XIII. Nae fleekit birkie's lurin art I dread to blaft my Peggy's charms ; Sufpicion's pangs gnaw not her heart, While huggin Roger in her arms. XIV. About Tide- time an' Hogmenal, Some Chuckics an' a Yowe we fell, Fu' blyth to had our Newyea Wi' whawkie an' a fowth o' ale. ( 45 ) XV. At Candlemas, to pay my rent, I fell fome Gimmers, Staigs, or Stots ; Than to the Laird I gang fu' bent, An' pay him ilka penny Scots. XVI. I blythly fing than i' my cot, Frae year to year thus jowin on j Gin Happinefs be not my lot, I'm fure 'tis nae aneath the Sun, An old Serenade imitated. JOHNNIE ANB MENIE. Tune" Broom of CQIJU den-Knows" I. OTELL me, Menie, how to prove My lowin heart fincere ; I maift think fliame to tell my love, But canna hide my care. II. Morpheus in vain difplays his fweets, To lull my faul to reft ; In vain he fpreads his velvet fheets To lure me to his breaft. III. But whare can Johnnie fin' fweet eafe, Gin Menie binna there ? ( 47 ) Alas ! his bofom kens nae peace, Unlefs whan wi' his fair. IV. What tho' the Sun to blink decline On me wi' gowden ray, Thy een can a' his rays outfhine, An' blefs me mair than they. ( 48 ) The Bufh by Mungo's Well ; o n, The Love-fick Wright's Farewell to Currie. Jn imitation of the Broom of Cowden-Knows. WT glee ilk mornin did I fee My Bell come o'er the Know, I up the brae to her did flee, An' kift her bonny mou\ the Bu/h, the bonny bonny Bufh, The Bujh by Mungo's Well-, 1 ivijh 1 'were ivi my dear Lafs, An nane there but my Bell. ( 49 ) t nbwther taflit grief nor wae While Tibbie nar me was ; How blyth I met her at the An* eke on yonder {haws. the Sufi, &c. Her lovely mou' fae fweetly fang, An' gar'd the Trouties dance ; While Warblers charmed \vi' her tongue, Did fa' into a trance. the Bujh, Sec. While thus we fpent our youth fu* days Betweefli our wark and play, I envy'd not the gayeft Swain That erode the flow'rs o' May. the Buflj, &c. But now, wae's me ! I maun awa', How fadly may I mourn ! Alas ! I leave my lovely Bell, An* dare nae mair rcturp. the Bufa &c. G ( 5 ) She did delyte me ilka day Wi* her fweet mirth an' glee ; Alas ! my Tibbie ftaw my heart \Vi' her black rowin eie. the Bujh, &c. Sin Tibbie did to me prove true, Cou'd I to her be faufe ? Cdu'd I refufe to pledge my heart Wi' her by yonder fliaws ? the Bufh, &c, My houfie an' my little yard, Nae mair can I fafh wi' ; My wimbles, faw, an' hatchets too, May lie an* ruft for me. the Bufh, &c. Adieu, then, Mungos Wdl y adieu, Adieu, ye lovely Jcenes ! Ye Gods, ye ca' me frae my Bell, An* nought can mak amen's, the Bufh* the bonny bonny Bufij, The Bu/h by Mungo's Well * ; Jivi/h I 'were ivi my dear Lafs, M nane there but my Bell. * Mungo's Well, near the Minifter of Currie's houfe, by which are the Shaws, Buih, and Know mentioned. On feein three Fat Fowk Dancin a Reel. FAIR fa' the fonfy (lately three, Wi 1 houghs mair flout than aiken tree; Fair fa' their fteeve and fturdy hips, O' whiik the flaes can get nae nips. Fair fa' their muckle weel-pang'd guts, At dyet time they fare win cuts, \Vi' puddin broe or haggles' kail, Or fomething maks a battin meal. Fair fa' their muckle Moon-like faces, Whareon there dwalls a fouth o' graces ; They hae mair brags, meantime Ife fpare 'era, Quid fingula enumerarem ? In fhort they're jolly, trig, an' trim In ilka member, lith an' lim, Atweel. ( 53 ) JOHNNIE BLATE'S Night Vition, Courtfhip and Marriage : As Defcribed by Himfelf. JN EIGHT PARTS, PART I. My rhyme and mizzars I fall alter Juft whan myjaul taks a crofsjaulter. ATTEN', gude foivk) an' hear my clatter, Frac Kattie's Kirk to Currie Water, Whan I to ane an' twenty wan, I thought myfel a hanfome man, Tho' may be wrang. My name is Jock, Ife nae deny, My dwallin is a bit forby ; ( 54 ) I had baith Horfe an' Kye anew, An' to a Wife cou'd gie her due, As Johnnie thought. But whan I gaed to bed to fleep, I ane did fin' afide me creep, ! clapt her firft, an' than I kid ; But wauk'nin, than my Lafs 1 mift : O fad delufion ! I cried, curft dream ! ye hae beguil't me, An* o' my happinefs outwil't me ; But foon Ife hae a Wife providit, To keep me frae that wae betide it : A gude conclufion. Up than I raife an' cleant my flioon, An' fhavt my chin an' kaimt my crown, I fet the Gallants a' to wark, Than weefh my face, an' chang't my fark, An' dreft to fafhion. My coat, by luck, was fine an' braw, Withoutten either hole or gaw, ( 55 ) My bannet new, my waiftcoat neat ; The brecks might fairt a Peer o* ftate, Whilk held my hurdies, My napkin filk, my flockins cottan, My buckles glancin like ftarn fhottan ; Wi' thae rigg'd out, I took my journey, Alang the brig leads o'er the burnie ; Like wha but me. An* into JLnbrugh town I gaed, Wi fturdy fteps an' cockit head, To court a Lafs, they ca' her Lilly, Had been at fcuil wi* me an* Billy ; But O fad change ! Now (he is grown a Manty-makcr, An' flightit me, the tykes may tak her ; For whan I thought to put kifs on her, She hufft at me, the faucy llmmer ! D flick the pride. Cried, Aff frae me, nae country dart * Shall coup the heels o' Lilly's heart ; * Love's Dart, Than hame I came, wi' heart fu' fair, An' hale lax months court! t nae mair, Nor dreamt o* yon. SONG. SHE was fae partan-fu' o' pride* Bot virtue for an Eaftack ; On Water-kelpie flic may ride, Wi' Beggars fet on Horfe-back; PART IL AN' neift I thought on Meg White-teeth^ Wha was a Milliner in Leith ; I then for bannet coft a hat, An' buits for (hoon I alfo gat, Wi' ruffles baith at han's an' bread, An' cooft my hough out-owre a beaft ; Than into Leith I rade draught-way ; Put in my Gloyd where he gat hay ; An' aff I gaed to Maggie's houfe, Than at the door did chap fu' croufe. ( 57 ) She cried, Come in, an' in I gaed, Scrapt wi' my paws an* bowt my head, An' faid, Fu' are ye, Madam Lady ? To court a Wife here's Johnnie ready j Aboulziements I hae anew, Ife gie myfel an' a' to you, Gin ye'll tak me, an* leave your trade, To keep my houfe an' heat my bed ; I pried her mou' an' thumt her chin, But higher down did never fin' ; She gloomin, thro' the houfe did caper, Cried, " Yefe put nae pen to my paper *." Be gane frae me, ye dozent hawkie, Gae hame an' wooe foine country gawkie ; I left her than, an' took my bead An' mountit him, an' hame wi' hafte, Lap aff the Gloyd an' took my queers, Threw by my hat, put aff my beets, Defynt to court nae mair Town LaflTes ; An' fae the time for fax owks pafles. ProbaUy alluding to figning 2 Marriage Contrail* H ( 58 ) SONG. THEY fay, tho' Venus dinna like A Gowk wha ftarts at feugh or fyke, At times, withoutten feyk or yammer, She fmiles at Vulcan an' his hammer* PART iir. THAN ae day I gaed to the braes, To foothe my grief amang the flaes, "Whare I a bonny Laflie met, Was country bred, an' Daddie's pet ', I faid, my Meg, an' fu' are ye ? She thankt me, an' nae dorts took me ; Quo' I, my Lafs, ye' re unco bonny, I like you, Meg, the beft o' ony ; I kift, an' faid, Lafs, will ye tak me To plow your craft ? She gae a blufh, an' out than fpak (he, The Laddies daft. ( 59 ) I faid, I hae a farm an' ftockin ; See yon fax Horfe gaun at their yokin ; I hae twal Nowt (laun i' my byre, A gude fawt kid ayont the fire, A fa* meal x girnel i' my pantry, A better's nae in a' the country : Sae, Peggy, gin ye'll be my Wife, Ife do the beft I can for life. She faid my lad, I carena by, That I like you, Ife no deny ; Ye're young an' flout. Delytit, I cried, happy thrice, The town-bred Flirties I defpife : Wi' kifles fweet, that night we parti t ; My heart I thought maift frae me flartit. But fome Rogue faw's, an' tald her Dad ; When flie gaed hame he ca'd her jade : Frae hame nae mair durfl Peggy gang, For fear poor Jock fhou'd do her wrang. Quo' Dad, I hae a penny filler, I'm fure will get a graun' Man till her : This rev'rie fpread about the Cummer, Quo' rich auld Rob, I'll fey the Gimmer ; An' bot doubt he gaed to her Dad, Spak o' 's ain wealth, an' weel he fped 5 For Dad forc't her to marry Rob, Whilk furely maks a ftickit job. My heart was yae, my luve thrice croft, I thought ilk pleafure wou'd be loft ; Cooft aff my braws, an' on ilk dud, An' rav'd twa owks like ane gane wuci. SONG. AS bright the Sun darts forth \ Upo' an April day, Than darkly hides ilk ray : Sae raife my mornin beams, Whan firft my Peg I met, Yet 'ere noon-tide they &*. 6i PART IV. 1THAN refolv't, that, out o' fpite, I'd hae a Wife, let them gang hyte, Thought on a Shepherd near did dwell, Wha had a Bochter they ca'd Bell ; I dreft myfel, flade up the burn, An' Bell came out the Yowes to turn ; Tho' her gown was but hame-fpun gray, Her fmirkin eie gar'd her look gay, Her mou' was mini, feat, feat her nofe, Her cheeks frefh as a bloomip, rofe, Her mak was neat, an* her ikin fair, Her coatties fhort, an' her houghs bare, IJer feet were tight, her taes weel fep^ An' were na Bell an' I weel met ? I faid, Bydejlill aif fpeak, my Daivtie ; Firft to the Yowes me huntit Bawtie, Than ftopt, an' lookin half a-jee, aid, What's your ivill, Young Man, ivit me ? I faid, my dear, I winna hurt you, But gin ye'll hae't, I'm come to court you : ( 62 ) Sae we fhook han's, an' than fat down In a green how, near by the town ; I pried her mou', an' preft her cheek, O' fomething elfe I neift did fpeak, An' fpiert at her gin (he wou'd tak me; Thanks, faid flie, for the bode ye mak me, I bodit neift what fhe refus't ; I beggit than to be excus't. Sae we did 'gree, an' hame we gaed To tell auld Tarn what was in head. PART v. ffl'HAN I gaed wi her to the I heezt the t richer > Aii croft the door, ati hat the hallen A thump fu ftcker. Tarn than came but, an* faid, come ben, Ye're welcome here, my fonfie Callan ; There' fome fat Hens fit o' the bawks, Gudewife, ye maun gae, hafte ye, fell ane. ( 63 ) For John I fancy'll be com'd here To fee our Sheep an* buy fome Yowes ; An' we fhall ftap our wymes fu' weel, Or we gang out amo* the hows. Sit down, my lad, an' tell's your cracks, Upo' that ftool ahint the ingle ; I airflins than did kifs a ftool* Cou'd hae twa kift bot ony pingle. Tammas ! Quo' I, that's no the plan, I want nae Sheep, I'll buy nae YoweS J I'm come to wooe your Dochter Tib, To lie alane is far frae mows. Whan comin here I met herfel, An' her an' I did hint about it J But till we got free leave frae you, To gie confent mim Tibbie doutifc I hae a mailin frae the Laird^ I hae fax Horfe to draw my pleugh, * I was at that time too baftiful to kifs Bell in the prefence of her Father and Mother, and therefore only backlins kifl>d the ftool, and dwelt a while in it's em- braces. ( 64 ) 1 hae fax Kye to gie me milk, An' i' my girnel meal eneugh. I' my prefs draw'r I hae fome cam, An' for a debt d ane can brak me ; I cockt my bannet, an' I faid, Tarn Father^ 'will ye let her tak me ? Hout, hout, faid Mam, ye' re fare in jeft, Gie o'er fie havers, what comes neift, A Chap like you'll be feekin filler, An' we hae iiane o'c to fpare till her ; Believe me, Tibbie has nae tocher, But ae haf-crown i' her kift locker, An' her twa gamons. Whan ive had crackit lang An Jlaver i our gabs grew teugh, A ftool was taen frae the peat neuk, The meat fet on't an' roun* we fat Bell, Mam, an' I held up our han's, An' a lang grace frae Tain we gat. T the fire-en* fat Man an' Wife, An' Tib an' 1 fat i' the neuk ; We ate the hen, cheefe, bread, an' a*, An' fyne a hearty drink we teuk. ( 65 ) Tarn than for fupper gae back thanks, An' Jannet feefh ben fome whawkie To Tarn, wi' quaich to ben' about, Till fhe gaed an' milkit ILrwkif. Whan (lie came back, we fpak o' yon ; But Bell, quo' they, is nae far leukit, She'll need an owk to think thereon, Than, gin fhe like, ye may be beukit. I kid my Lafs, bade them Cude-reft^ An' down the brae I gaed fu' wight, An' lap an' fang, grown maukin mad, Ay thinkin o' that lucky night. PART vi. EIST Saturday, whan I gaed back, In at the door, an' ben I gaed, Lap to the neuk, an' kift my Bell, To Dad an' Mam than bow't my head. I ( 66 ) The houfe was clean, the dinner made ; We took our dinner an' a drink ; I lookt to Jannet, Tarn, an' Bell, Quo' I than, Will our marrige clink ? Quo' Tamrtias, I ken naething elfe ; Quo' Jannet, ye may even tak her, Bell fmirkin fa id, I carena by : We gree't, an' than a bride did mak her, Wow ! fae vogie ! Tarn Dad an' I gaed down the lea, Whan Tib an' I 'ad made market, An' to the fcuil in hafte we gaed, An' gar'd John Dominie clark it, To had it fteeve. Whan we gaed back to fix the lave, Awa' her rock my Tibbie flings, An' Mam feefh ben a cog o' ale To drink luck to our bonny things. Quo' Tarn, I'll gie my Tib a Cow, Ablins a Cawf, a Stirk an' Stot, A Riglen, Ram, an' thirty Yowes ; The verra wale in a' my cot. ( 67 ) Quo* Mam, Ife gie her a claife kift, Three (beets an* fax pair o' blankets, A rock an* reel, pot, pan, an' wheel, An* mony mae ufefu' trinkets We'll ftrike the oirn Awhile it is het, On Tyfeday fortnight had the feaft, Gae bid your fowk, provide your meat, To lofe this heat might prove nae jeft. We took our meal, drank to the bride ; Wi' glee I kift, an' hame I gaed, Put ilk thing fnug about my houfe, An' than I tirr'd, an' to my bed. v PART vir. FIRST owk at hame, I red things up, By wife auld Tammie's diredion ; New bothomin put i' my bed, E'en a' for Tibbie's reception. ( 68 ) Neift owk bade fowk, coft a fell't Sow, Raifins for kail, an' Baker's bannocks ; Sax gude fat Hens I neift did hang, An' bought twa Brokie's binner but- tocks. Munday than came, our brythal e'en, The houfe was red for the Bride's flit- tin ; The Lads an* I flood i' the clofs To kaip the baggage an' tak it in. Ane Hawkie led, wi' hempen branks, Ane drave the Cawf, the Stot, an' Stirk, Ane ca'd the Riglen, Ram, an' Yowes Wi' Bawtie, an' a fcrog o' birk. A fourth led Gloyds twa in a cart, Weel pang't wi' a' the Bride's trinkets ; An' Mam came down an' made the bed Wi' baith Tibbie's meets an' blankets. Whan we gat a' the flittin fet, We clcan't the houfe, an' eke the lum ; As faihion bade, I weefh my feet, An' rubbit up e'en to my b ; Than to my bed. I flept nae lang, but foon I raife, \Veel wytit on I was by Gib, The Bridegroom's man, An' after meat pat on my claife, For kirk to grow ae flefh wi' Tib. , Come fit me can. PART VIII. WHAN Tib an' I came to the Kirk, An' baith our right han's met wi' ither, The Prieft flood up, an' by a grace, Made baith o's ane to live thegither Benevolently. THAN tame we gaed an' took our dine ; Wi' waughts o' ale we ca'd it down: Than we did dance and wallop wymes, Till fome drave holes in baith their ihoon. ( 70 ) At tea o'clock Bell gaed to bed, We me duds on bat a faft fark ; Than I cntp down befide my bride ; The fowk than left us i' the dark. I kift her mou\ an' ca'd her honey ; An' fomedmes did what was as funny : I proVt myfd a manfo* Johnny That verra night i But nowther hart her cockernony, yet her fight. An 9 after we had fpent die night, As finely we were i' the right, A ttetWds Cariin came be light, An' laid to Bell, HLS Jobuny made the contract cigbr. T acquit himfel ? She bloiht, an* fitde (aid atweel ; Bet whan we raile, they took a creel An' pot on me, wi' birn fu' leal, But Tibbie ran, Po-nM aff the creel, gae them to D , To fave her Man. Than laid they, fine as mitten'* giickk, Gndeman, ye feem to hae die knack o't ; An* thus to ane anitber crackle, Bettvmtbcgeme: Than frac our hooie the Cariins packit, Ilka ang hame. 7 H 1 CONCLUSION. TT7 HAN left alane, ihe deant dse boole, V V Fat on a bra* fire i* the chirnly, Than or ilkt die Kye an* fed the Kawr, An* made bead o* the milk o* The hcaft we fa ppit, an' ate cakes ; An* baith we ca'd down wT fomc nappy. She giudcs die bonle, an* I die m ; The King an* Qoeen are Icaice iae happy. ( 7* ) Than whan our day's wark we get dond, An' Phoebus hidit o'er the burn ; I frae the neuk fefli coals an' (licks, An' i' the chimly cad a curn. I fing to myfel, fair fa* you, my Bell, Let a' the Town's Tawpies lead Apes in H . My Tib fhe fings, an' at me looks. Says, Woo't an' marry't an' a' j \Vi' hearty glee, an* chearfu' eie, Says, Kift an' carry't awa\ Sae we're to ane anither flentit, But weel we're marry't an contentit. Lang continuance ! SLAE-BRAES, Second Day of Honey -month, 1787 Tears. ( 73 ) The Coiiftant Lover's Song, Me pone in a wreath o' fnaw, Charmantem Bettiam amabo, Me pone in a het, het ha', Heartamque meant ilh dabo. I. MY Love is like the Queen of May, The faired of all fair: Each namelefs grace her own fo gay ; None can with her compare. II. O that kind fortune wou'd but give That jewel to be mine, With her alone I'd happy live, With her my breath reflgn. K ( 74 ) III. A blink from Betty, and a fmile/ Wou'd banifh all my care : But why fhou'd hope my heart beguile, Since fate doth prove fevere, IV. O cruel love ! O fate fevere ! O fair an' lovely rofe ! O glance, the fource of all my care, That firft broke my repofe ! V. Tho' cruel (he doth to me prove, Til never feek revenge : For flill that jewel I muft love ; Nothing my heart can change. VI. May choiceft bleffings be her lot, That dear, that lovely fair, While I fit fighing in my cot, A victim to defpair. ( 75 ) On the Twenty-firft Day of September, BEING 'I he Birth-Day of the amiable Mifs A**** G ****** g< HAIL, lucky day ! that feefh about the birth O' the maift bloomin hifly o' the Earth : Thrice fax roun' rowin years hae run their race Sin' ihe came down, our female train to grace ; At noon-day now, fhe joins the charms o' art Wi' Nature's charms, an' thaws the frozen heart. To joys o' Hymen I had bid adieu, An' daftly fworn to join the convent crew, ( 76 ) Whan A * * * * 's finirkin eie gae genial heat, An' gar'd iny pulfe \vi* youthfu' vigour beat ; Her jet black ringlets, an' the crimfon cheek, (Whilft thro' lawn hagabag her bread did keek) Gar'd me at Celibacy's thoughts recoil, An' wiih for mair exftatic blifs a while. But Oh ! that aith, that waefu', waefu' aith, For whilk by day, by night, I thole fie fkaith. She's now become for years an' virtue meet To mak the joys o' Hymen's bed com- plete. . To her may foon a leal Gudeman be giv'n ; Lang may me bruik him, late fpeel back to Heav'n *. * Horace, Book I. Ode 2. ( 77 ) Mrs N * * * N and her Daughter* I. YE Preachers, now die a' your mou's, Ye are nae mair but Mortals ; It may be fcr the fa (Lion's caufe That mony crofs your portals. II. What the wife Preacher cou'd na fin' 'Mang thoufan' Wives an' LafTes *, In M * * * * N * * * n can be found, Wha a' his fair furpafles. III. Ilk winnin charm is M * * * * n's ain, Ilk effort her's to pleafe ; An' wifdom in her mien is fhawn By modefty an' eafe. * Eccl. vii. 28. IV. An' lovely B * * *, her fecoiid fel, In youth hath learnt to know, That virtue is the only font Whence happinefs can flow. V. While feelin fwells her tender heart, Ilk grace adorns her gait ; Difdainin pride an* vanity, True gudenefs maks her great. ( 79 ) On reading Dr Beattie's Poems, WHAT numbers can mak verfe com- pleat, To fing thy Beattie's genius great, O Aberdeen, the Mufes feat, An* new ParnafTus. Great Beattie wakes the foundin lyre, As Sappho fait, wi' Pindar's fire ; Frae Phoebus' beams ye apes retire, . Wi' your Pig-ajfes *. Some ape Poets may be faid rather to lead Pig Wives' cripple Afles, than to drive along a limping Pegafus. ( 8 ) On reading Mr Burns' Poems, I. WHAN Scotia, clad in wae, bemoan'd Her FerguJJon laid i' the yird ; The God o' Verfe, heegh, heegh enthron'd, Confefs'd he was a hopefu' bird. IL Than thus his Peers o' State addrefs'd : " Peers ! 'wha {hall wawk the Scottifh lyre?" Than his braw Peers, wi' grief opprefs'd, Into the rows o' fate enquire : IV. Whare written was, " Tho' Rob be dead, " Scots need na greet, nor mak a buttle, " An Ayrfhire Blade {hall beet their need, ** For Robie Burns {hall blaw the whittle." IV. The God a genius quickly fent T' infpire the Ayrfhire Ploughman Billie; Stop, Lady Mufe, ye've fpun your ftent ; Content, quo' Mufe, my Norlan Willie *. V. For mods fly ivou'd gar him blu/h f , Gin ive iVQudfing bis ju/l applaufc ; An has he faivts ? the anfivers hufh~> Nae Mortal Man is free o^flaivs. * The Author is a BanfFshire Man. f Witncfs Mr Burns' Anfwer to W. S -n, Ochiltree. ( 82 ) To a Man gaun to fell an Oufe \vha had drawn in his Pleugh mony a year. d memsre boves ? OVID. OMAN, thou fure ungratefu' art, An' ill defervin Ceres' fmile ; Gin your hard heart can fell that Oufe, A harmlefs beaft, an' born for toil. Thy faith fu' Hind hath often gart Rich craps grow up on flubborn groun' ; That neck wi' fervice fae fair gaw'd, O wretch ! wi' bull-ax canft thou wcun' A lerious Oueftion propofed and anfwered in an Aflembly of Worthy Dames. UP rofe a dale, dry, antiquated Maid, Her fading charms of blooming youth decay 'd, Said, worthy Dames, a queftion I'll propofe, A doubtful point, as time and practice fhows : Which is the beft, and fweeteft line of life, A Virgin (late, or a poor fervile Wife ? Many I fee, before fix months are fpent In Marriage (late, their change of life repent, Curfe their hard fate, their wretched cafe deplore, Applaud the life, the blefied life before. Ah ! blinded fools, their freedom fweet to lofe, And yield to flavim Matrimonial woes ; I truly think I'll ever live a Maid. But, think ye t meant Jlos truly as fhs faid? Anfwer by a Widow. [Though the Old Maid fpeak Englifi, th Widow fpeaks Scots.] UP neift did rife a wily Dame, An' cried, I think ye'd be to blame I frankly gie you my advice, Gin a Man afk you, binna nice ; "Whan I was young, my part I play'd, An' I three jolly Hufbands had ; But now, alas ! I'm paft the date, An' as a maik nae ane can get. ( 85 ) THE K I N G's B I R T H~D A JUNE 4tb, 1787. I. GUDE heal' unto his Majcfly, An' mony Fourths o' June ; My bennifon on G our King 9 Lang may he bruik his Crown. II. Lang may his bonny Bairnies a* Be roun' his table fed ; Lang may he hae our Royal *$>ueen To grace his faft, faft bed. III. Nae flate affairs, or P o' 7F , Do I defign to mention ; To fafh wi' things I dinna ken, Is far frae my intention. ( 86 ) ," VI. I'm nae far feen, I'll nae preten' To fay what befl wou'd fuit us j I wifh our King an' Men o' State May wifely tak about us. V. Gude-e'en unto his Majcfty, His Wife and Wee-anes a', On Britain s JJle o' Loyalty May greateft bleflins fa'. VI. While I this night, in namely cot, Out-owre frae din an' buftle, Shall wiih his health wi' loyal gafh, An' than fhall weet my whittle. 87 SONG. Hei mihi ! quod nullis amor eft medicabilis herbis. OVID. N'OW Phvbus mounts his {lately Ram, In Simmer claife are clad the fkies, Frae face o' Flora, an' her Dam, The furly Winter vanquifbt flies. But Beenie ft ill does looe me ill, An ay ivi fcornjhe looks on me ; But hcrfweet, facet face, an 'tisfu o grace, An 'tis for her fake maun Willie die. By fkreek o' day, the Lark can fay *, O Phoebus, are ye \vakin yet ? * Leader Haughs and Yarrow. ( 88 ) Can ftreek her wing, an' mount an' While my poor faul nae eafe can get. lor Beenie ftill, &c< The Shepherd blythely tunes his reed, The jolly Tar gay fpreads the fail, The genial heat revives the feed, An' gentle Zephyrs waft the gale. But Beenie fiill^ &c. In vain to me, in yonder fhaw, The Warblers chant upo* the fpray, In vain to me the rofes blaw, An' Phoebus' beams gar Trouties play. For Beenie ftill, &c, An' whan to nap in Tfo/*/ lap, Ely the Phosbus blufhes down the Weft, My love-fick mind, with anguifh pin'd, Is dead to pleafure an' to reft. For Beenie flill, &c See Nature fmile thro' Britain s Ifle^ While gently curlin waves the tide ; See mirth an' glee by Land an' Sea, While fharpefl pangs o' love I bide. For Becniejltll, &c. O Martimas, deflow'r the grafs, An' ca' the leaves frae ilka tree ; O friendly Death, come (tap my breath, My life I'll frankly gie to thee. For Beeniejlill hoes Willie ill, An ay iv'i f corn Jhe Jl ares on me \ But her fweet^ fwtct face, ari ''tis fit o' grace, M 'tis for ker fake maun Willie die. M CRUST TO CRITICS, GAPE, Critics ! here's a bit to bite, That will put little i' your kyte ; Tho' I wou'd like your fols an* fa's, I'll may be get but hums an' haws : But gin ye try to blot my wark, Ye'll ablins jump into the dark ; For mony verfes you'll fin' here Twa mean-anes * opy day can bear : Altho' wi' you a Chief hae dealin, Ye ufefu' crew, but void o' feelin, * Query. Whether the Author meant meanings, and \vilf ully miftook ? A 'TRUE STORY OF A HARE HUNTIT, B Y R B M E N'D-F A CT S. HE fpy'd a Hare in yonder (haw, Than took his gun, tho' 'gainfl the law, An 1 whan wun near, the n^il did draw, But whan he fliot, The Maukin up, an' ran awa' ; Gude was her lot ! Rob than to her did hunt his Dogs, Thro' glens an' (haws, thro' muirs an' bogs; But Whiddie, wi' her cockit lugs, Said, kifs your luckie : Than Robie charg'd his guii wi' ilugs To fpice her buckie. An' cafe the bead a Witch might be, Alang wi's (hot a fax-pence * he Did put into his gun fu' flee ; For he'd been tauld, That that wou'd mak a Witch to die, Tho' ne'er fae bauld. Than Robie brifkly fir'd his gun, But Maukin fkippit aff in fun To a fina' cot, wharein did won A wife ca'd Wife ; An' Robie after her did run To gie'r a hyze. But whan he enter'd the wee houfe, Thinkin a Maukin leal to foufe, Tor her, a Matron, fadly douce, As ane nae weel, Cried out to him, Ye're rather croufe ; An' rais'd a D . Than Robie gat an unco fright, An' hame he ran owre how an' hight ; * The only way to fhoot a Witch, is by putting a piece of filver into the gun. ( 93 ) But lang afore that it was night, He was fae dung, That Boclors cou'd na put him right In tae nor tongue. A witty Wife did than advife Rob back to gang to Maukin Wife, An' fcore her over, ance or twice, Aboon the breath * ; Whilk Robie did, by her advice, An' ance aneath. Sae after that he came to heal', An' claw'd his bicker out fu' weel, Whilk gar'd his members a' grow leal, An' trig an' trim ; Nae mair cou'd Maukin, or the D , Get powV o'er him. * The only cure for Witchcraft is to fcore the Witch over above the breath ; and Robie, to make fure work, fcored her both above and below. ( 94 ) \With the foregoing Story in full, Robiefent the following Letter to his Mini/I erj\ To the Reverend the Man-auftere o> Robie's Parifh. OMAN-AUSTERE ! will ye nae help To gie the jade the fatal Ikelp ? Gin ye the law will rightly read, You'll fin' a Witch fhou'd bd dung dead. Yours, &c. R M . ( 95 ) Mefs John, upon receipt of Rollers Letter^ gives the following Order. THIS letter than read grave Mefs John, An' cried, O wow! Ochon! Ochon! Ye Elders, an' thou Clinkum-bcll, Gae to the hut whare Wife doth dwell, An' roaft the Witch in her ain fire j For that fhou'd furely be her hire. Mefs Johns Order put in Execution. HPHE Elders than an' Clinkum-bell * Ran to the cot whare Wife did dwell, An' brunt her a' baith flefh an' bone, By order o' the GREAT MESS JOHN. ( 96 ) ELEGY O N T H E DEATH NOW Mauldn's dead, an' wi* the D , Or elf'e Mefs John has tint his Ikeel; But Ki-'k-fi*wk ay fhou'd wifh her weel : For whan their ain Wives were frae hame, She very aften helpit them ; Tho* itherways fhe was nae canny. ( 97 ) COMPLIMENT To fome Clafhin Wives ivha fpak ill o a neiv Neibor, ivhafc only faivt (gin it may be cad a faivt) is that o being oer generous an difcreet. YE wha are fcabbit let you claw ; Or jouk till o'er you gang the jaw ; Shall I fay that ye \ your mettle, May probably hae drown'd a nettle ? Or that ye want the breeks to wear, An' had the hale town in a (leer ? An' that ye hae, the*' nane cou'd true it, E'en gi'en your maik a clamihewit j Or ap'd the Hen, whafe tunefu' clocks Draw after her a train o' cocks *. * Swift'* Works. N ( 98 ) Na, ye're nae objects o' defire, Tho' drumly dreams might flocken fire $ But gin ye will be quiet a wee, A greater compliment Ife gie : Nae virtues cou'd great Xanti * boaft, But in your luftre wou'd be loft. Weel ringed are your hearts wi' malice, Your hearts fuftain'd by Cretian bellies f . Sonfe fa* you an' your fouple gabs, For at your trade ye're furely dabs ; Yea, were your feet but as weel fhod As are your gabs, to fcour the road, Withoutten doubt, for mony years, Ye to the Prince J coach might be mares* * A cant word for Xantippe, the Wife of Socrates, f Titus i. 12. J .Ephef. ii. 2. The Prince of the power of the air, which, according to Homer's idea of the word aer, may be rendered the Prince of the power of darknefs. ( 99 ) The North and South Winds, A N L E G R 2". 'ER a* the Britifh continent, While ftormy Boreas did blaw, Jle, hero-like, his rage did vent Where Luxury his face did (haw. * Now Zephyr flee blaws frae the South, Wi' gales fmooth as a butter ba' ; But wow ! he has a dreadfu' drouth, canna put awa\ O JEolus ! apply your pow'r, Controul him by your royal rod, An' flock his drouth in a gude hour, Or fen* himfel awa' to Nod. HORACE, BOOK III. ODE SCOTIFIED. OHALY Midwife, thou prefider O'er fliady woods, an' mountain guider, Whan cryin Lafles thrice cry gen, You hear, an' e'en ungirth their laigen ; O Howdie, o' three ihapes an' names, Come lout a wee to ither games. O Howdie, Howdie, by fix'd doom, Be thine an' mine the bufli in bloom Whilk grows fae gayly by my houfe, For it ilk year I will be croufe, An' blyth to gie the reekin gore Of a flout thrawart favage boar. Fareweel to Teachin an* the Ha> Green o' Currie, BEING A Parody on u Fareweel to Lochaber." FAREWEEL to Scml-Bawther, an fareweel, Ha'-Green, Whare lanely wi* baith I hae mony day been : Wi* Scuil-Bawther nae mair, Scuil-Bawther nae mair, I hope I'll be faflat wi' Scuil-Bawther nae mair. Nae tears fhall I fhed, an' nae dangers I'Jl fear, Nor yet the misfortunes attendin on gear. Tho' bore o'er rough hills to a far diftant dore, I hope to be fafht wi* Scuil-Bawther no more. Tho' hurricanes rife, an* rife every gale, They'll near raife a tempeft to gar ray heart fail ; Tho' rougheft o' thunder on rougher hills roar, \Vi' pleafure I'll leave what fo much I ab- hore. To leave them behin* me, my heart is nae pain'd ; By learin the Getties fma' fame can be gain'd, An' filler an* gowd ay reward wi' a hyze, An' I maun deferve them by fhiftin the guife. Than filler *, my Getties, maun plead my excufe ; Sin' filler commands me, how can I re- fufe? Without it I ne'er can hae merit nor gree : An' without Dan Cater I'd ablins foon die. * It is a common faying that money makes the Mare to go. ( 103 ) I gae than, my Getts, to win filler an* gowd, An* gin I fhou'd lack to get a plummy fowd, I'll maw a light heartie, wi' wealth rinain o'er, An' than I'll be fafht wi' Scuil-Bawther no more. LIFE AND POETRY. n :r--t i. v/r.J: ' rit fall pafs. His face than grew like Nore-eaft Moon, An' creefhy as her Cobler lown. Brave Bull> neift in a gizzy big, An thrapple girth dreft up fu' trig, The pulpit mounts \vi' fie a roar, As ony full grown favage Boar, An' cries fing Pjalms * thro 1 mou' an' nofe, The fury blawin o' his brofe : Tho' for his voice there ftjll are doubts, That he's S^.E day whan Donald dy'm was, He cad Mefs John to plead bis caufc. Enter MESS JOHN. Weel, Donald ! what's the crotchet * now, That Tin fent for to vifit you ? DONALD. Ah ! Sir, my body's fair diftreft, My troublM mind can get nae reft j Indeed I fear I'm gaun to die, O will ye plead a wee for me ? MESS JOHN. I'll do for you whate'er I can, Tho' fure ye've been a wicked man ! * Donald never fent for the Minifter in his life befor?, and therefore the Minifter calls it a crotcher, or odd fancy. But now I hope ye will repent O' the bad life that ye hae fpent* DONALD. But, Sir, fome neibors did me ill, O' wham I fain wou'ci hae my will. MESS JOHN; O Donald, man, forgie them now, Or elfe what can become o' you ? For ye hae dealt baith Cows an' Yowes, An' ablins too a Gloyd or Oufe ; Wi* mony things I canna name, DONALD. What's 'bout my houfe they {hall get hame Some enemies I can forgie, For little tricks they play'd to me ; But ither fame I wifli to hang, As Gibbie Newe an' Gear die Wrang : For Geordie kift my Wife fu' weel, An' Gibbie claw'd my crown as leal. ( III ) MESS JOHN. A dyin man fliou'd na fpeak fae, Confith'rin whare he is to gae ; Gin a' thae beads, wha now are dumb, Upo' a court day wou'd but come, An' witnefles 'gainft you appear, What think ye wou'd you hae to fear ? DONALD. Than ilka ane his ain might tak, An" Donald's credit nae mae crack *. MESS JOHN. O man, thae fpeeches lay afide, "What tortures maun the wicked bide ; An' ye' 11 be fure to get your fkair, Unleis or death you grow fmcere, An' o' your ain fins a' repent, Forgie your faes, an' die content. * This is founded upon a real faft, bat the many fchooh now erefted in the Highlands of Scotland, it is to be liopeJ, will bAuifli.fuch ig DONALD. O naething mair fall Donald tak That's nae his am, to help his pack ; My en'mies a' I fall forgie, Except the twa I've narn'd to thee. M.ESS JOHN. Donald, Donald, pardon thae, Or to an ill place ye maun'gae. DONALD. 1 think Wrang George I can forgie, My Wife was maift as ill as he ; But Gib forgie I winna yet, For foundly did he foufe my pate. MESS JOHN. Few minutes life remain for you, An' Gib you eke maun pardon too ; I fee dead looks o'er a' your face, O Donald, fay the word DONALD. Alas ! I feel I now am gone, An' I do Gib forgive, But Donald, Donald, you, my fon, Mind him while *. Auld Donald died fair 'gainft his will, Young Donald did his charge fulfill. * To the difgrace of human nature, it is but too common to hand down enmities between families from one generation to another, which might 'make a heart of ftone cry out, Re^fon \ haft thouftcdto Iruti/b beaflt ? ( H4 ) ELEGY O N D N A L D's DEATH. NOW Donald's numbered wi' the dead, Tho' he cou'd neither write nor read. To a' his fock he ay fan bread, By flight o' han' ; A Father fond he was indeed, But nae gude-man. His body now lies in this hole *, But whether Death has fent his foul To forrow's manfions, domes o' dole, Let nae man judge j* : What fate decrees he's fure to thole ; Hes in his lodge. * His grave. f Matthew vii. r. ( "5 ) To the Reverend Mr W ***** m C*****n, On reading his Poems and hearing his Sermons. I. HAIL, Cameron! fav'rite of the Nlne y Confpicuous in each feeling line, That in Britannia 's tears * doth fhine, To paint her caufe of woe. II. When flalking o'er Morvcnas heath, Thou mark'ft the meagre form of Death f , Or how Am / a dropt her breath J; Thine fhou'd be Homer s bays. * The Tears of Britannia, written during the late American war. < f The Vifion of Death, a Celtic Ode. J Elegy on the death of Mifs Am 1 a F q n of In d. Poems by Mr C n. III, Farewell, as Fav'rite of the Nine, Hail thou, than them now more divine, Well fuited to that tafk of thine To folve the facred page. IV. Thy happy audience attend To GOD'S command, as their chief end, \Vhilft Thou, their Paflor, ftriv'ft to men4 The morals of the age. V. Since thou maintained thy Mailer's caufe, And they adhere to JESUS' laws, Nought lefs can conftitute applaufe, Than crowns in heav'n above. On the decent behaviour of a Noble Lady and two Sons and a Daughter in Church* HERE from the vain and gaudy tribe retir'd, By love of God and life immortal nVd, A Lady, with her graceful offspring young, Hang lift'ning on the Soul-Phyficians tongue : View here the gen'rous, and the rich and Whilft he, her fons and fecond felf difplay The boaft of nature and the heav'nly mind, By infpiration from on high refin'd. In them is ev'ry lovely virtue found Complete, the grace of all our Gentry round, Fame muft with honour crown them, and they'll rife, When robb'd of life, to live above the ikies. THE D R E A M O F E U S E B E . . S. I. AT dead of night, when balmy fleep My weary carcafe did renew, My mind on wings of Fancy rov'd, The train of murky night to view, II. Whilft yonder town of afpedl gay, Where Splendor fixes his abode, Made Fancy check her rovhig v;:ng, To fpy the paths where Pleafure trode. III. Firft to my view did then appear, The brutal race of Violence, ( "9 ) Who wrong'd and robb'd the harmlefs Babes Of unfufpeding Innocence. IV. Then did the Sons of Luft and Wine Embrace the giddy Harlot's arms, An' 'dult'rous Ruffians, Nature's fhame, Robb'd bofom friends of nuptial charms *. V. There too, the Sons of gay Delight, At Lux'ry's table highly fed, Whilft their fupport, the Sons of Toil, To pinching Poverty were bred. VI. Others did by example hun What they by precept did maintain : Aghaft ! Aghaft ! I trembling cried, " Man furely hath been made in vain." * I hope it will not offend the reader that fome of the above hints have been taken from Hervey's works. ( 120 ) vir. Next then prefents himfelf to view A Chape, whofe afpecl was divine, Who bade me quit thofe mournful thoughts, And for fuch trifles not repine. VIIL The Phantom then I thus addrefs'd : " Pray Sir! What can blind fortune mean, c< To fmile on Sons of Wickednefs, " And look on Wifdom's Babes with fpleen ?'* 4 IX. To which the Speclre thus reply'd : " Some day to come they'll feel the fe- quel; To pleafures that they now enjoy Your future fhall be more than equal.'* ft! U On reading 4 Dr Blair's Sermons. HAIL BLAIR! Ediiuts boaft of clafs divine, In whom doth ev'ry human grace combine, Pure light of mind and friendly feeling heart, From thy bright pen their namelefs beau- ties dart : Infpir'd by heav'n, Thou, above envy's reach, Doft by example as by precept teach ; Since gofpel truths are thy fure winning lays, Immortal fouls muft furely be thy bays ; For joint applaufe of Poets ev'ry one, Cannot beflow the laurels thou haft won. Be tbefe Prefents known unto all Men and Mountains. I thought it an outrage upon common fenfe to offer a Dedication^ with- out Jirft having given my Patron afpeci- men of my performance; but now finding that he looks upon me 'with an au/picicus eye, lam emboldened to addrefs his Honour. DEDICATION TO THE BLACK HILL* | MR MOUNTAIN, DISDA1NIN pride, ambition's fae, An outcaft frae auld Mithcr Tird y By fate's decree, I, fon o' wae, Am chang'd into a lingin Bird f. * A very high hill near Currie. f Poets are often ycleped Birds. ( "3 ) II. Ah ! helplefs Bird ! Ah ! Critic rage ! O whither, whither (hall I fly ^ To fhun the fcandal o* the age ? But to Thee, tow'rin to the fky. Ill, Without a lift o' favours paft, The hackney-coach o' ftupid Afles, Myfel at prefent I fall caft At fit o' Thee, as my Parnaffus, IV. The virtues o' your witty pow, Your dauntlefs faul, an' {houthers brade, Bleeze bright as powther in a low ; Let envy mourn, be friendfliip glad, V. Neceffity maun court a fcreen, Tho' fliou'd'ft thou fa' thou'd'ft ablins fmoor me, ( 124 ) An' caft in envy's teeth a bane *, Whilk wou'd o' diabetes f cure me. VI. To patronize my youthfu' wark, Thy gracious Honour I requeft ; An' O ! be friendly as thou'rt ftark Thy humble fervant, Sir, in hafte. * Alluding to envious ftories fome neighbours invent- ed when I began to publifli my Poems. t When Poets take too great a draught of Helicon, they are feized with a Poetic diabetes. See Swift's Works. Te Simpel Heelan Man's ao count o> Herfel. Per varies cqfus, per tot difcrimina rerum, Tendimus in Latinm, fedes ubifata quietas OJlendunt. VIRGIL. I. HERSEL pe fimpel Heelan-man, Owre young to leave her's Mammie, Tho' flie be peart twa tither years Before her Prither Tammie. II. Her's Daddie haein fheap piece Ian', Her tak frae Irifh fhentry * ; Some gute young Stots pe in her's glens, An' Shalties in her's pantrie f , * It is very common for Scots Gentlemen to be Irifli Peers. f It is nothing uncommon for people to live in the fame houfe with horfes in fome places. ( 126 ) III. Her put young Tonnal to te fqueel, Wha pe a praw (lout gilpin, Tat me pe lear to reat her's peuk Alang wi' Tarn M'Alpin. IV. An' fan nainfel pe reat fu' weel, 'Pout cofpel an' te law creuks, She tan get Latin Reetiments ; Says Daddie, tat crown a' peuks. V. Her's Daddie an' her's Minnie paith Tan pe hat confutation Apout te laws pe in te lan\ An' Preachers in te Nation. VI. Quo' Daddie, we pe wurk fu' fair, An' win te pennie fillar, An* we mak Tonnal ihentleman, For fhe pe gute, gute fcholar. m ( I27 } VII. Her's Daddie wurkit at te pleugli, Mam fpin pen in te neukie, An' Tonnal mak for Apertcen t Ay glowrin on her's peukie. VIII. Fan Tonnal cou'd te Latin fpeak As weel as happer-gallicks, Bad tan her to te College pit, To lear fome ither frolicks. IX. Fan Tonnal to te College come, An' rife to fay her's leflbn, Te P.egent phraife her unco fair, But fure her hae gute reafon. X. Tefe tidins foon to Tuncan come, For {he pe TonnaFs Daddie, Quo' (lie, I teach my Tonnal law, Her's wit it pe fae ready. XI. Out tan in furich cry her's Mam, (Tey ca' him Maggy Murdoch) We mak him's Tonnal greafy mou' *, For fhe pe gabby birdock. XII. Put fan te Seflion pe gien up, An' Tonnal be come hame, Her nae pe hear o' Par no Kirk^ But tink o' ither game. XIII. A ponny Lafs gang to te Cows, An' Tonnal ay wyte on her, An' fan her tink nae podie hear, E'en pledge wi' him her's honour. XIV. An' fay, my Pettie, I nae gang Mae far awa' for learmn^ * The Woman meant Chryfoftoro, or golden-mouth, intending him to be a Minifler. Put you an' I pe maftilach flocks, An' we for Daddie care nane. XV. Och ! we pe ftan' pefliite a teyk, An' Dad pe hint it harkin, Cry, " Tonnal, me pe catch you now, " Ye weel pe worth a yarkin. XVI. *' Me tink fat nainfel pe hae fpen' " On Tonnal, my firft Laddie, The Source of Promotion. I. ^L7"E Mufes nine, your fiddles tune, JL Promotion's glorious fource to fing ; "Whan kend to a' aneath the Moon, They'll blythely dance to fie a fpring. II. Dan Lux'ry fwells ihefouthern fpence, Ambition gnaws the ivejllin liver, The eaft is bloodfhed's refidence, But Norlans are baith gude an' clever. III. Promotion comes na frae the Eaft, Nor can it grow be-foutb the Forth j It canna come frae paughty Weft, Than fure it maun come frae the North, ( '55 ) To the Right Honourable the E**l of u*****n and Lord y##**#* g *-#####. MY noble Earl an' V 1 hail ! Twa ftoops weel wordy o' my tale ! I fin', my Lads^ ye' re unco leal, In Parli'ment ye fpak fu' weel, For Scotland's Peerage, a braw caufe, An' firm ye flack by union laws. Withoutten further demonftration, Sin' ye deferve fie approbation, On you wi* wealth let honour fmile, Worthy twa Peers o' Scotia's ifle. ( 156 ) John Highlandman's behaviour going home from Summer* 'Eve's Fair of Keith. SHON HKELANMAN, paith young an' flrang, Ae tay pe to te market gang, An' pirze herfel ay in te trang To catch te purfe ; An* tinkin tan te laws to pang, Pe mount her's horfe. Put comin hame a ting * {he fin', Whilk cry tick-tack an' mak fie din, Shon pe grow fear'd, tan clap his chin, Him's tongue to ty : Put wi' his claver on he rin, Till Shon pe cry. * John found a watch, and not knowing what fhe was, imagined fhe was crying to apprehend him for "liner the purfe. " ( 157 ) Fat T 1 pe tou, tat me pe pan ? " Me clowr ty crown at te (hort han' *' Tou pe cry tak poor Heelanman, " Fat hae me tone ? " Te purfe me tak frae Lawlanman *, '* Put nae frae Shon. " Me fnre tou pe a lim' o* N -, c< Com'd to me thro' her's politic, " Ty face me prak, ty toup me kick, '* An* prane tee flat " As ony founder wi' my (lick, " To lay ty mat." Shon tan prepare herfel for battle, Come o'er him's nofe wi' fie a rattle, Nae mair him fpeakliim's clav'rin tattle Tan ony mole Shon pleugh-man pe flay wi' her's pattle, I' te pleugh hole. * He thought it no crime to Real from a low country man. Elegy on the death of the Watch, by John. TOU clavrin, filty, wickit ting, Ty tongue hae play'd tee a' tis fpring'J Tou tink poor Heelan-man to ding^ Put let you crack, Fu me ty nib pit 'neath ty wing, To lay ty clack. O' ty nain fawin cut te crap, Ty tinfome tongue nainfel hae (lap, In Daddie's oxter gae to nap, Tan me pe ken, Te T 1 herfel, tat cunnin Shap, Pe get her's ain. ( 159 ) *#*#** Maecenas atavis edite regibus, et prtcfidium et dulce decus meum! HORACE. I. T 'my theme flo*w in lofty jl Tofmg the glory of the age, While the late * * * * dear remains, Are treading life's mojl bufy flags. II. Thou, hopeful Youth, art porting on, While ftorms of envy thee afTail, The glorious fleece of fame to win, Like Jafon in his coat of mail. III. The public eye, on thee intent, Bids me waft on the wings of Fame Thy courfe to noon-tide fplendor bent, Which envy dares not flatt'ry name, IV. j, et * * # # f ar fam'd virtues now Be unto full perfection brought ; Let worthy laurels grace thy brow, As nobleft cares diftend thy thought. 161 To the Right Honourable the E ***. f w **** and his Son. HAIL, my Lord W , with your Son E-, Let hills and dales refound the echo. Rebellion in oblivion yawns, An* loyalty with fplendor dawns On fons of glory, fons of grace, The offspring of a noble race. Since cloudy darknefs now is fled, And rays of light come in its flead, May worth in you with honour fhine, Ye noble fons of Scotia's line. FABLE. FRAE Geordie Gow a Cawf was ftown, Some rogue had ta'en it as his own, Whilk adtion o' the rogue wanwordy, Diftreft the heart o' anxious Geordy. He pray'd to Jove on this behawf, To fhaw him wha had ta'en his Cawfj Vowin to gie 'im a weel fed Lam', Some butter an* a flice o' ham ; An 7 eke a lump o' burden beef *, Gin he wou'd bring to him the thief. Jove firft bade him gie o'er his grief, Than fhaw'd a Lion for the thief. George than got fie a dreadfu' fright, As gar'd him cry to Jove outright : " Ife pay, Ife pay what I did vow, " Unto thee, as thy legal due : * George had a cow who had burft herfelf by eating too much clover. " But gin thou wilt tak aff the thief, " An' free me frae my tort'rin grief, * c I vow, I vow, wi* right gude will, " Ife mak the Lam' a dainty Bull." MORAL. BY this ilk body weel may fee, That happy for us it wou'd be, Gin we wou'd ay but reft content Wi' what wife Providence has fent* To one who got a Girl with child under promife of Mar- riage, and then refilled to perform his promife, though bound by fblemn oaths. THEY fay that Jove did grow a bull, O' a fhy maid to get his will, But for a maid that was mod civil, Ye worthlefs dog, ye've grown a devil. How cou'd you herry virtue's neft, O' female graces far the beft : Tho' ye hae fown in pleasure's lap, In har'fl o' pain ye'll cut the crap ; How sou'd you ca' her fweet an' fair, An' ilk thing gracefu' in her air, But whan you had got your petition, Than like the fon o' Dan Perdition, The ladder fcorn, the fteps defile, By which you enter'd pleafure's flile. But Sawny, Sawny, will ye hark, Ye'll ablins flic frae pleafure's park To manfions lowin to the riggin Wi' brimftane (learns thro' a' the biggin, Whereas beyont the mark ye've fhot, Ye'll get the whittle o* your groat. I leave you, lad, to dree the reft, Ye're come to age, fae (land the teft. For fare the De'il will get his due$ Unlefs in time you pay your vow. ( 166 ) To A*** and B**** Efqrs Charity coveretb a multitude of Sins. HAIL, worthy pair of honeft hearts, Whofe virtues rile 'bove envy's darts ; Each breach of promife you difdain, Whilft from th' ambitious, proud, and vain Retir'd, your feeling hearts beflow Your charity with nobleft view. The greateft grace that Paul cou'd name Adorns the objects of my theme : Since virtue's voice proclaims your praife, My mufe fhall now give o'er her lays. ( 167 ) COPY OF A LETTER DIRECTED TO WILLIAM TAYLOR AT CUR HIE, From an unknown Hand, E'EN had you bify, Willie Taylor, Your gude^ Scots Mufe, may nae- thing ail her, May neither wit nor vigour fail her Till ance your head Be auld an' grey, than fall your valour Appear whan dead. Your Preface to the reader^ Willy, Shaws that you are a comic Billy, ( "58 ) Ye tell your cafe, tho' flee, not filly, Nor like a flieep ; For breeks ye are nae afF fae illy, Nor poor's ye peep. I've only feen part o' your ware, Odd bits o' fcraps o't here an' there ; But foul fa' me, an' what 'is mair, May I ne'er thrive, Gin that I dinna think it rare, As true's I'm 'live* The Clafhin Wives wha dwall in Currje, I meikle doubt they will you worry, Ye've gi'en their character a flurry, Ye funny Lo r wn^ For whilk they'll gar you flee wi' hurry Frae Currie town. Fu' weel ye ken their difpofkion, They're feenil right, but" whan they're leefhin Ithers, nor will they care a fnifliin Wi' you to grapple, An' rug you fae ftrait by the wizen, That they'll you thrapple. But ye fhou'd pacify their wrath, In order to keep you frae death, Elfe ye may get frae them the fkaith Ye'll never caft. Be friends wi' them, or by my faith < t They'll be your lad. I tak upo' me, tho' a ftranger, To warn you o' fie deadly danger, Perhaps ye live at heck an' manger, An' eafe the now, But whan your beuk comes out, than, than, Sir, Ye'll may-be rue. Than gae an' tak a chapin wi' them, By fair means fey your {kill to gree them, An' fay ye wou'd be glad to fee them At your ain houfe, To tak fic-like as ye can gie them, O' wont an' ufe. Ye may think light o' what I tell you, But true it is that they may mell you, Or for a fwad * or failor fell you, In time o' weir ; Or tak the tid an' outright fell you, Ye've eaufe to fear. Ife fay nae mair till ance I fee How ye tak this advice frae me, Wha, tho' I'm freinit blude f to thee, I wifti you weel, An' hereunto, as ufe may be, I fix my feaL Offobcr eighteenth, eighty ~fev en, Atjax o clock on FeurJ day's even. N. B. Addrefs to Mr .^' Edinburgh. * A Soldier. f No Relation. S O L I L O Q,U Y ON RECEIVING THE FOREGOING LETTER. CAN he be ony Lawyer blide ? Or ony chiel to pupit bred, Wha wi* a tongue as glib as gled, Means by flee banter, Upo* fome verfes he has read, To bring miftianter ? Or can he be a frien* unkend, Wha means to me a lift to lend ? What anfwer can 1 to him fend To clear the matter ? Shou'd he be fae, to him, as friend, I'll fend a letter. Anlwer to Mr &'s Letter. MY unco friend, I gat your letter, An* for your counfel am your debtor, But, footh, 'twill be nae war nor better, The Wives are printed, An' I maun even brave their nature, Harfh as ye've hinted. Mean time I'm yarkin at my (ludy, Wi' breeks an' fark grown maift as duddy As ony fcare-craw in a woody, I'm fair to mean, Wi' cheeks, alas ! nae fat an' ruddy, As they hae been. Lang may'ft thou thrive, my man, fair fa' thee ! But, ivitty-poiVy I fain wou'd knaw thee ; Pray fen' me word how bodies ca' thee, An' by my deedj I'll come an' meet wi' thee, my Lathie, An' fuck a bead. ( '73 ) My rhyme I fhanna o'er lang fpin^ In mony words there might be fin., Juft count me wi' yourfel a-kin, An' let me ken In what bien biggit ha' ye win, O wale o' men \ As ye hae tauld a witty tale, An' thereunto hae fix'd your feal, Lang may ye blaw the reamin ale, "My South Ian Billie^ While I flab up my barefit kail, Your Norlan Willie. In Enbrugh Town, the wale o' towns, For cappie out an' funny lowns, I bear my date an' defignation, October's fcore day thro' the nation ; An' for the year I needna name, 'Twou'd ik but little to my fame. ( 174 ) On the pride of a Nofe-wife S***er. SUPPOSE a man to be a Sc * * * er, An' think himfel than five-pence feater, Griev'd when he fees his neibors thrive ; His ither talents to defcrive, Whan mountit up befide a lum, He wants to cork up ilka b , Eecaufe his nofe, devoid o* fnifhin, The fauts o' ithers maun be fifhinj Complainin o' ilk triflin* fmell, That wi' his fleam pretends to mell * : Sin' now he als proud envy's part, In time he'll may-be feel the fmart. * Mell in the Scots language is ufed in various fcnfes, but here it fignifies to mingle. j ( 175 ) Farewell to Edinburgh. o DOWT, doivy is my lie art ! fareiveel) fare t weel t beftjritnds maun fart. O Reikie, pick o* gaucy biggins, Wi' timmer floors an' blue-ftane riggins, An' Tuncans y wha'pe guard ty glibs, For fear John Buck pe prak teir ribs. Five owks as canty hae I fpent, Within thy ports o' merriment, As ony Piper eatin puddin, Or beggar Rable at a wed din, \Vha clauts the laigen o' ilk bicker, Wharein are dribs o' kail or liquor. How blythely did I fcour thy caufeys, An' view thy handfome weel-hough'd La flies Wade thro' the dubs wi' kiltit coaties, Upo' their chins wear craw-black fpotties, Wi' bifket bare an' bodin looks, While fragrant fumes come frae their buiks. Than whan Dan Pkcebus crap frae fight, An' Enbrugh (hone wi' ulzie light, An' clofe-mou' LafTes wont to glent, As blinkin gowans o' the bent, Tho' poet- poor, an' kirk moufe lean, I aften met wi' fome gude/nW, Wha took me to fome tapfler cellar, "Whare oyflers were baith gude an' callar, An' Landlord's Dochters, young an* bloomin 5 As grilfes \ the water fowmin, Came chearfu' to us for a biddin . As Peggy to her Patie s hodin, To nili for fadges frae the Night, As Phoebe frae the Sun tings light. Than we fat han* to nieve thegither, An' fir ft we pang'd our puddin leather Wi' oyfters frefh an' herrin fawt, Till deacon ftammack was fae (lawt, That hunger cou'd na fin' a neuk To pitch his tent in a' our buik. An' neift we ca'd for To heat t\\ejlrangcrs in our kytie\ Fir ft drank to SCOTLAND, Land o Cakes 9 An' than, May Frenchmen get their pakes 1 Ay bangin roun' the ftoup an' cap, Till poortith frae our hearties lap. Whan we had buried care in liquor^ Grown princely great, an' wife as Vicar ; Whan Bacchus had Tafles windows fteek- ed, Gleg Cupid thro' the lattice keeked ; I'll let the readers guefs a bit, Few words at time, may pafs for wit. My friend than doffied down the lawin, Fu' croufely o' his cater crawin, Than valiantly we ftrade fhanks-naigie, As glib horfe-coupers do a ftaigie, An' bauldly ported thro* the guards, As thro' the Pipers do the Cairo's, Till we arriv'd at. Morpheus' cell, Into whafe oxter foon we fell, Forgetfu' o' ilk comin care, As gin we were to wake nae mair ; But in oblivion fleep, like beads, (As Sadducean fancy jefts) Till mornin clocks an' yarkin hammers Rcviv'd us by their tunefu' yammers. ( '78 ) Dame Pleafure than the clofet enters, An' mindfu' o' lad day's adventures, We rake our ein, an' fhak our lugs, An' frae our fhouthers fleg the bugs, Syne up we get an' tak our mormn O' water fometimes mair than cornin, To (Jrive the vapours frae our liver, An' clear our gabs o' hide-boun' flaver, Than {ally forth to fcour the caufeys, As yefterday 'hint tight-hough'd la flies : But now, alas ! I maun return Whare ports o' care wi' forrow burn. Fareweel, dear Rcikic / we maun part, May the beft bleffin o' my heart, My broken heart, atten' thy lafles, Thy oyfter boards an' whifky glafTes, Thy couthy chiels wi' gizzen'd craigs, "Wi' wham I blythely, by my faigs, Can banifh ilka care wanwordy, An' gar Dame Poortith tak the flurdy. But I'll nae langer feed my mane, Nor Sorrow's bicker vainly ben', To Currie Town my courfe I'll fteer. An' celebrate the jub'lee year, ( '79 ) To bang the birr o' winter feafon, Ay Poet-like wi* fyndit wizen, Bot carnfhach wife or girnin gett, To plot my taes, or deave my pate; i8o The Sow's Dream and Behaviour after awakening, in her own words. Imagination gallops, night by night. Thro lovers' brains ; and then they dream of love. SHAKESPEARE. AS I in hovel fleepin lay, In bloom o' youth, in virtue's way, I thought John Grumphie came to me, An' prais'd my grunt an' fcarlet eie, Than tauld me whare he'd live an' die *, As blythe as mackrels i' the fea, Declarin me to be a Sow Whafe flefh might pleafe the grandeft Jew That ever dwalt in Padan-aram, An' frae ram facrifices fcare him. * HORACE, Book III. Ode gth. Tecwn vivere amem t tecum cleam libefis. In fhort he was wi' gab fae gifted, That dad a bit cou'd I get fhifted, Frae yieldin to his fighs an* granes, The fweeteft buik e'er grew on banes. But wauk'nin, than my fpafh I lifted, Frae place to place for him I fifted, How ! how ! John Grumphie, teet, teet bo, O willawins, whare art thou, jo ? O dolefu', dolefu', dolefu' pain I Eneugh to brak a heart o' ftane, O reafon, hail thou' fled to men ? That Johnnie Grumph neglects my mane^ I fin', I fin' a fad delufion Has put my fenfes in confufion ; Dear Sows, allow me truth to tell, I'm fure I'll nae mae be myfel. O cruel dream ! O vifion vain ! / O Johnnie Grumph,' whare art thou gane ? O cruel fate ! O helplefs Sow ! How fair to thole nae man can trow * ! * Some men may think that I have ufed too many ex- clamations here, but if the great Pythagoras had been tranfnaewed into a fow in my condition, I'm fure he would have exclaimed in the fame manner. O Morpheus^ by thy magic charms, Reftore John Bacon to my arms, That he the Daddie, I the Mam, Inhovel'd in the bow'r o' Ham 9 May rear an offspring, great an* The grace o' a' the birfy brood, E'en like ourfels, juft as divine As were the Gadarenean fwine. ( 183 ) Epitaph 011 fbme money buried by Nathan Dodd, a Mifer. TO P bcre> until you read a wonder, A real f aft, tho like a blunder. Here lies thefaul o' Nathan Dodd, Hisfaul it is, an' eke his God* A buried y#//-i-you'll fay it's coarfe, A buried God is ten times worfe ; But true it is, hisfaul lies here, For ne'er zfaut had he but^^zr* ; As true it is, here lies his God, For nae ane elfe was ken'd by DodJ. * It is a common faying that Money is the Mifer's God. Epitaph on John Hay. HERE lies the corpfe o' Johnny Hay, Ay waitfn for a future day : He either was, or feem'd to be, A man o* real honefty ; But whether he was fae or not. Till that day come fient ane can wot. Jnfcription for a Sun Dial. LIFE, like my {hade, flies quick in hours ; The pad are gone, improve what's your's. ( I8S ) To STRATHSPEY. TRATHSPEY ! thy bieldy glens an* tow'rin hills, Thy deer, thy goats, thy woods, an' wimp* ling rills, Thy mountain heath an* herbs o' fweat perfume, Difplay rare nature in her earlieft bloom : How blythely ftrollin in a fummer's day, Inchanted by the warblers on ilk fpray, Can I admire the beauties of a place Where heroes live (an* not a pigmy race), Then with exftatic emphafis exclaim, Woud I were but a Highlandman ! A a T O S C O T L A N D. A FEW OBSERVATIONS ON SOME OF TH&. SCOTS HEROES. THY fons o' glory many, Fergus thine, In whom the Kmg y the Man, the Hero fhine; From whom our Scotti/h Kingdom took its rife, In fpite o' a* its faes cou'd than devife. Corbredus Galdus thine, o' high renown, Made Roman legions yield to Scotia s crown At pleafin banks o' Tay^ Kyle, an' Dunkel\ Whare mony thoufan' Roman heroes fell. At Aberlemny, Malcolm thine, fo wight, Pat Dani/h troops an' allies a' to flight : At Largs, whare Haco vanquifh'd left the field, 'Twas thy Great Alexander gar'd him yield. A gallant Wallace thine, o' fteady zeal, Wha mony faes did turn to deadly pale ; An' to forfake his country's caufe, mair laith Than to expofe his dauntlefs faul to death. A noble Stair is thine, whom now I'll Come down, ye Mufes, an' your laurels bring, Bring ilka fweeteft flow'r aneath the Ikies, An' drew the grave whare now the Hero lies, "Who glorioufly in foreign fields o' blood, For Britain s caufe, the haughty French withftood, But fin' twa Nations, fir'd wi' mutual fpite, Thy gracious Sov'reign, Anna, did unite : Whan bougils found t' un&eath the truf- ty glaive, North Britain, may thy (loops o' weir fae brave, Alang wi' Southern Britons bold, advance, A dread to Spain, a fcourge to haughty France : May Britain's arm her darin faes repell, An' peace an' plenty thro' the nation dwell. To Scotland, the Mither o> Poets. BUCHANAN thine, whafe pure poetic fire Might hearts o' Saints and Savages in- fpire : Thine Mtntland *, wha put Virgil in fie drefs, That ilka reader's heart maun joy ex- prefs : Thine Thomfcn, wha employ'd his heav'n- taught lyre, None but the nobleft paffions to infpire f ; Nor can I by the famed Ramfay pafs, Wha fweetly fang o' Patle an' his Lafs. Lat ither Poets a' gie o'er their lays, Thy native Bards maun furely get the bays. * Richard Earl of Lauderdale, who tranflated Virgil into Englifh poetry. t Lord Lyttelron's Prologue to Coriolanus; ADDRESS T O MY BOOK LET Horace' monument furpafs The images o' folid brafs ; Let Ovid's peroration clafs Him 'mang chief Bards, As lang as maukin leaves the grafs For gude kail yards. Fate may alledge, by kittle wordies, I fence my Wark ; as timmer fwordies Are certain figns o' downright cow'rdies i But fhe maun lout, An' hunker down upo' her hurdies Whan thou peep' ft out. Sae, bonny Beukie, wi' fu' fcowp, Thro' a' the country lat thee loup, While Fate cowrs down upo' her doup, And bids thee gang t To gar me live to toom my ftoup, An' lilt my fang. Gin canker'd bodies thee defpife, Or glow'r on thee wi' double eyes, Their fpite a doit thou mann'ft na prize, They're war than affes : Juft tell them either to grow wife, Or cut their hawfes. My bonny Beukie, ay be leal, Gin ony body like thee weel, And ca* the Author a droll chiel, And fpier his name, In Willie s name bid him giide-heaT^ An' tell the fame. Whan thou grow'ft auld, there is nae doubt But newer beukies will come out, An' thro' the country fkip about ; " But I'll nae fee ; I winna mair grow young and flout Whan dead taks me. Fareweel, fareweel, again fareweel, Thou to the very back are fteel, ( 192 ) And furely wilt the turrets fpeel, Whare Fame refideth, An' leave the bankies to the D Whare Lethe glideth. %* THERE may be fome typogra- phical errors, fuch as near for neer in Fare r wgcl te Scull Uuuuc/jcf , which ihe Reader will pleafe excufe in the mean timej and, in next Edition, I fhall fet down the Errata, Subfcribcrs Names y &c. which it is hoped will be confidered a fuf- ficient reafon for enlarging the price of the Book a {hilling or two. THE END. UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY Los Angeles This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. Form L9-100m-9,'52(A3105)444 I A 000000974 6 pMfiato '*$ ; :^AA.A' ' .AAA ^2iRnnr/V\i.SSA>^ s : - - ~ HA*/^ "'"""/N^s'va'vfc^A/r ;v^% ^ w ^iP^lS^l ^^^AfAiAAA. '' A %AAAA^,A^AAQM.A-A*/ yQQflflafi/iAK; ^A . A, AARftaA^'ft^ -N* ^pmps *AA&&A