No guefs could tell what inftrument appear'd,
But all the foul of Mufic's felf was heard;
Harmonious concert rung in every part,
While fimple melody pour'd moving on the heart,

The Genius of the Stream in front appears,
A venerable Chief advanc'd in years!
His hoary head with water-lilies crown'd,
His manly leg with garter tangle bound.
Next came the loveliest pair in all the ring,
Sweet Female Beauty hand in hand with Spring;
Then, crown'd with low'ry hay, came Rural Joy,
And Summer, with his fervid-beaming eye:
All chearing plenty, with her flowing horn,
Led yellow Autumn wreathed with nodding corn;
Then Winter's time-bleach'd locks did hoary show,
By Hofpitality with cloudlefs brow;

Next follow'd Courage with his martial ftride,
From where the Feal wild-woody coverts hide;
Benevolence, with mild, benignant air,

A female form, came from the tow'rs of Stair:
Learning and Worth in equal measures trode,
From fimple Catrine, their long-lov'd abode :
Laft, white-rob'd Peace, crown'd with a hazle wreath,
To ruftic Agriculture did bequeath

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,
And punish each tranfgreffion;
Efpecial, rams that cross the breed,
Gie them fufficient threshin,

Spare them nae day.

VI.

Now auld K*********, cock thy tail,
An' tofs thy horns fu' canty;

Nae mair thou'lt rowte out-owre the dale,
Because thy pafture's scanty:

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;
And hing our fiddles up to fleep,

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,
Has proven to it's ruin:

Our Patron, honeft man! Gl
He faw mischief was brewin:

And like a godly, elect bairn,
He's wal'd us out a true ane,

And found this day.

IX.

Now R******* harangue nae mair,
But fteek your gab for ever;

Or try the wicked town of A

For there they'll think you clever ;
Or, nae reflection on your lear;
Ye may commence a Shaver;
Or to the N-th-rt-n repair,
And turn a carpet-weaver

Aff-hand this day.

X.

M***** and you were just a match,
We never had fic twa drones;
Auld Hornie did the Laigh Kirk watch,

Juft like a winkin' baudrons;
And ay he catch'd the tither wretch,
To fry them in his caudrons;
But now his Honor maun detach

Wi' a' his brimstone fquadrons,

Faft, faft this day.

XI.

See, fee auld Orthodoxy's faes,

She's fwingein thro' the city!
Hark, how the nine-tail'd cat fhe plays!

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,
Embracing all opinions;

Hear, how he gies the tither yell,
Between his twa companions!
See, how he peels the skin an' fell
As ane were peelin onions!

Now there, they're packed aff to h-ll,

And banish'd our dominions,

Henceforth this day.

XIII.

O happy day! rejoice, rejoice!
Come, boufe about the porter!
Morality's demure decoys

Shall here nae mair find quarter:
M********, R*****, are the boys
That Herefy can torture;
They'll gie her on a rape a hoyfe,
And cowe her measure shorter

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,
From this time forth, Confufion :
If mair they deave us wi' their din,
Or Patronage intrufion,

We'll light a fpunk, and, ev'ry skin,
W'ell rin them aff in fufion

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.