Fareweel, my rhyme-compofing brither!" We've been owre lang unkenn'd to ither: Now let us lay our heads thegither, In love fraternal : May Envy wallop in a tether, Black fiend, infernal! While Highlandmen hate tolls an' taxes; While moorlan herds like guid, fat braxies; While Terra Firma, on her axis, Diurnal turns, Count on a friend, in faith an' practice, In Robert Burns. POSTSCRIPT. My memory's no worth a preen; I had amaift forgotten clean, Ye Ye bade me write you what they mean. By this new-light*, 'Bout which our berds fae aft hae been Maist like to fight. In days when mankind were but callans At Grammar, Logic, an' fic talents, They took nae pains their speech to balance, Or rules to gie, But fpak their thoughts in plain, braid Lallans, In thae auld times, they thought the Moon, Juft like a fark, or pair o' fhoon, Wore by degrees, till her laft roon, Gaed past their viewing, An' fhortly after she was done *See note, p. 9г. They gat a new one. This This past for certain, undifputed ; An' muckle din there was about it, Baith loud an' lang. Some herds, weel learn'd upo' the beuk, Wad threap auld folk the thing mifteuk; For 'twas the auld moon turn'd a neuk, An' out o' fight, An' backlins-comin, to the leuk, She grew mair bright. This was deny'd, it was affirm'd; The herds an' biffels were alarm'd : The rev'rend gray-beards rav'd an' ftorm'd, That beardlefs laddies Should think they better were inform'd Than their auld daddies. Frae Frae lefs to mair it gaed to sticks; Frae words an' aiths to clours an' nicks; Wi' hearty crunt; An' fome, to learn them for their tricks, Were hang'd an' brunt. This game was play'd in monie lands, Till Lairds forbade, by ftrict commands, But new-light herds gat fic a cowe, Folk thought them ruin'd ftick-an-ftowe, Till now amaift on ev'ry knowe, Ye'll find ane plac'd; An' fome, their new-light fair avow, Juft quite barefac❜d. Nae Nae doubt the auld-light flocks are bleatin; Their zealous herds are vex'd an' fweatin; Myfel, I've even feen them greetin Wi' girnin spite, To hear the Moon fae fadly lie'd on By word an' write. But fhortly they will cowe the louns! Some auld-light herds in neebor towns Are mind't, in things they ca balloons, To tak a flight, An' ftay ae month amang the Moons An' fee them right. Guid obfervation they will gie them; An' when the auld Moon's gaun to lea'e them, The hindmost shaird, they'll fetch it wi' them, Juft i' their pouch, An' when the new-light billies see them, I think they'll crouch! Sae, |