A BARD'S EPITAPH.

Is there a whim-inspired fool,
Owre fast for thought, owre hot for rule,
Owre blate to seek, owre proud to snool,
Let him draw near;

And owre this grassy heap sing dool,
And drap a tear.

Is there a bard of rustic song,
Who, noteless, steals the crowds among,
That weekly this area throng,

O, pass not by!

But, with a frater-feeling strong,

Here heave a sigh.

Is there a man, whose judgment clear,
Can others teach the course to steer,
Yet runs, himself, life's mad career,

Wild as the wave;

Here pause-and, thro' the starting tear,

The poor inhabitant below

Was quick to learn and wise to know,
And keenly felt the friendly glow,
And softer flame,

But thoughtless follies laid him low,
And stain'd his name!

Reader attend-whether thy soul Soars fancy's flights beyond the pole, Or darkling grubs this earthly hole,

In low pursuit ;

Know, prudent, cautious, self-control;
Is wisdom's root,

ON

ON

THE LATE CAPTAIN GROSE'S

Peregrinations through Scotland.

COLLECTING THE ANTIQUITIES OF THAT KINGDOM.

HEAR, Land O' Cakes, and brither Scots,
Frae Maidenkirk to Johnny Groat's;

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' stature short, but genius bright,

That's he, mark weel

And wow! he has an unco slight

O' cauk and keel.

By some auld, houlet-haunted biggin,* Or kirk deserted by its riggin,

Its ten to ane ye'll find him snug in

Some eldritch part,

Wi' deils, they say, L-d save's! colleaguin.
At some black art.-

Ilk ghaist that haunts auld ha' or chamer, Ye gipsey-gang that deal in glamor,

And you deep-read in hell's black grammar,

Warlocks and witches;

Ye'll quake at his conjuring hammer,

Ye midnight bes.

* Vide his Antiquities of Scotland.

It's

It's tauld he was a sodger bred, And ane wad rather fa'n than fled; But now he's quat the spurtle blade,

And dog-skin wallet,

And ta'en the-Antiquarian trade,

I think they call it.

He has a fouth o' auld nick-nackets:
Rusty airn caps and jinglin jackets,*
Wad haud the Lothians three in tackets,
A towmont guid;

And parritch-pats, and auld saut-backets,
Before the Flood:

Of Eve's first fire he has a cinder;
Auld Tubalcain's fire-shool and fender:
That which distinguished the gender
O' Balaam's ass;

A broom-stick o' the witch of Endor,

Weel shod wi' brass.

Forbye,

* Vide his Treatise on ancient armour and weapons.