No guefs could tell what inftrument appear'd, The Genius of the Stream in front appears, Next follow'd Courage with his martial ftride, A female form, came from the tow'rs of Stair: The broken, iron inftruments of Death, At fight of whom our Sprites forgat their kindling wrath. ་་ And gie him o'er the flock to feed, Spare them nae day. VI. Now auld K*********, cock thy tail, Nae mair thou'lt rowte out-owre the dale, For lapfu's large o' gospel-kail Shall fill thy crib in plenty, An' runts o' grace they pick an' wale, No gi'en by way o' dainty, But ilka day. VII. Nae mair by Babel's ftreams we'll weep, To think upon our Zion; Like baby-clouts a-dryin: Come, fcrew the pegs wi' tunefu' cheep, And o'er the thairms be tryin; Oh, rare! to see our elbucks wheep, And a like lamb-tails flyin. Fu' faft this day! VIII. Lang Patronage, wi' rod o' airn, Has fhor'd the Kirk's undoin, As lately F-nw-ck, fair forfairo, Our Patron, honeft man! Gl And like a godly, elect bairn, And found this day. IX. Now R******* harangue nae mair, Or try the wicked town of A For there they'll think you clever ; Aff-hand this day. X. M***** and you were just a match, Juft like a winkin' baudrons; Wi' a' his brimstone fquadrons, Faft, faft this day. XI. See, fee auld Orthodoxy's faes, She's fwingein thro' the city! I vow it's unco pretty: There, Learning, with his Greekish face, Grunts out fome Latin ditty; And Common Senfe is gaun, fhe fays, To mak to Jamie Beattie Her plaint this day. XII. But there's Morality himfel, Hear, how he gies the tither yell, Now there, they're packed aff to h-ll, And banish'd our dominions, Henceforth this day. XIII. O happy day! rejoice, rejoice! Shall here nae mair find quarter: By th' head fome day, XIV. Come, bring the tither mutchkin in, And here's, for a conclufion, To ev'ry New Light mother's fon, We'll light a fpunk, and, ev'ry skin, Like oil, fome day. New Light is a cant-phrafe, in the Weft of Scotland, for thofe religious opinions which Dr. Taylor of Norwich has defended so strenuously. |