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ON

Sceing a Wounded Hare Limp by me,

which a Fellow had just thot át.

INHUMAN

NHUMAN man ! curse on thy barb'rous art,

And blafted be thy murder-aiming eye;

May never pity foothe thee with a figh, Nor ever pleasure glad thy cruel heart!

Go live, poor wanderer of the wood and field,

The bitter little that of life remains :
No more the thickening brakes and verdant

plains
To thee shall home, or food, or paftime yield,
Seek, mangled wretch, fome place of wonted reft,

No more of rest, but now thy dying bed !

The sheltering rushes whiftling o'er thy head, The cold earth with thy bloody bosom preft.

Oft as by winding Nith I musing, wait

The sober sve, or hail the chearful dawn,

I'll miss thee sporting o'er the devy lawn, And curse the ruffian's aim, and mourn thy hapless

fate.

ADDRESS

ADDRESS

To the SHADE of THOMSON, on crowning his Bust,

at Ednam, Roxbourgh-fbire, with BAYS.

WHILE virgin Spring, by Eden's food,

Unfolds her tender mantle green, Or pranks the fod in frolic mood,

Or tunes Eolian ftrains between.

While Summer with a matron grace

Retreats to Dryburgh's cooling shade, Yet oft, delighted, ftops to trace

'I he progress of the spiky blade.

While Autumn, benefactor kind,

By Tweed erects his aged head, And fees, with self-approving mind,

Each creature on his bounty fed

While maniac Winter rages o'er

The hills whence classic Yarrow flows, Rousing the turbid torrent's roar,

Or sweeping, wild, a waste of snows,

So long, sweet Poet of the year,

Shall bloom that wreath thou well haft won, While Scotia, with exulting tear,

Proclaims that Thomson was her son.

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N THE

Late CAPTAIN Gros e’s PEREGRINATIONS thro'

SCOTLAND, collecting the ANTIQUITI Es of that KINGDOM

HEAR,

EAR, Land o' Cakes, and brither Scots,
Frae Maidenkirk to Johnny Groats !--
If there's a hole in a' your coats,

I rede you tent it:
A chield's amang you, taking notes,

And, faith, he'll prent it.

If in
your
bounds

ye

chance to light Upon a fine, fat, fodgel wight, O'lature short, but genius bright,

That's he, mark weel And vow! he has an unco flight

O' cauk and keel.

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