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While o'er the Harp pale Mis'ry moans,
And ftrikes the ever-deep'ning tones,

Still louder fhrieks, and heavier groans!

Your pardon, Sir, for this digreffion,
I maift forgat my Dedication;

But when Divinity comes cross me,
My readers still are fure to lose me.

So, Sir, you fee 'twas nae daft vapour,
But I maturely thought it proper,
When a' my works I did review,
To dedicate them, Sir, to You:
Because (ye need na tak it ill)

I thought them fomething like yoursel.

Then patronize them wi' your favour, And your petitioner fhall ever

I had amaist faid, ever pray,

But that's a word I need na say :

For

For prayin I hae little skill o't;

I'm baith dead-fweer, an' wretched ill o't;
But I'fe repeat each poor man's pray'r,
That kens or hears about you, Sir-

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May ne'er Misfortune's gowling bark, 'Howl thro' the dwelling o' the Clerk!

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May ne'er his gen'rous, honeft heart,

For that fame gen'rous fpirit fmart!

• May K******'s far-honoured name 'Lang beet his hymeneal flame,

• Till H*******s, at least, a dizen,

Are frae their nuptial labours rifen: Five bonnie Laffes round their table, 'And seven braw Fellows, ftout an' able,

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To ferve their King and Country weel,

By word, or pen, or pointed fteel !

May Health and Peace, with mutual rays,

'Shine on the ev'ning o' his days;

E 4

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• Till

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• Till his wee, curlie John's ier-oe,
• When ebbing life nae mair fhall flow,
The last, fad, mournful rites bestow.'

I will not wind a lang conclufion,
Wi' complimentary effufion :

But whilft your wishes and endeavours,
Are bleft with Fortune's smiles and favours,
I am, Dear Sir, with zeal most fervent,
Your much indebted, humble fervant.

But if (which Pow'rs above prevent) That iron-hearted carl, Want,

Attended in his grim advances,

By fad mistakes, and black mifchances, While hopes, and joys, and pleasures fly him, Make you as poor a dog as I am,

Your humble fervant then no more;

For who would humbly serve the Poor!
But, by a poor man's hopes in Heav'n!

While recollection's pow'r is given,
If, in the vale of humble life,

The victim fad of Fortune's ftrife,
I, thro' the tender gufhing tear,
Should recognize my Mafter dear,

If friendless, low, we meet together,
Then, Sir, your hand,-my Friend and Bro-

ther!

то

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On feeing one on a Lady's Bonnet at Church.

HA! whare ye gaun, ye crowlin ferlie!
Your impudence protects you fairly:

I canna fay but ye ftrunt rarely,

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Tho' faith, I fear, ye dine but sparely

On fic a place.

Ye

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