« AnteriorContinuar »
Seek, mangled wretch, some place of wonted Daddy Auld (229), Daddy Auld, rest,
There's a tod in the fauld,
Ye'll be in at the death,
Davie Bluster (231), Davie Bluster, The sober eve, or hail the cheerful dawn; If for a saint ye do muster,
I'll miss thee sporting o'er the dewy lawn, The corps is no nice of recruits; And curse the ruffian's aim, and mouru thy Yet to worth let's be just. hapless fate.
Royal blood ye might boast,
If the ass was the king of the brutes.
Jamy Goose (232), Jamy Goose,
Ye ha'e made but toom roose,
In hunting the wicked lieutenant;
But the Doctor's your mark,
For the Ld's haly ark;
There's a heretic blast
Poet Willie (233), Poet Willie,
Gie the Doctor a volley,
Wi' your Liberty's Chain and your wit;
O'er Pegasus' side
Ye ne'er laid a stride,
Ye but smelt, man, the place where he *
Andro Gouk (234), Andro Gouk,
slander the book,
And the book not the waur, let me tell ye; It was mad, I declare,
Ye are rich, and look big,
But lay by hat and wig,
And ye'll hae a calf's head o'sma' value,
Barr Steenie (235), Barr Steenie,
What mean ye, what mean ye?
Ye may hae some pretence
To havins and sense,
Wi' people wha ken ye know better.
Irvine side (236), Irvine side,
Wi' your turkey-cock pride,
Of manhood but sma' is your share;
Ye've the figure, 'tis true,
Even your faes will allow,
And your friends they dare grant you nae
inair. And roar every note of the damn'd. Simper James (227), Simper James,
Muirland Jock (237), Muirland Jock, Leave the fair Killie dames,
When the Lord makes a rock There's a holier chase in your view;
To crush Common Sense for her sins, I'll lay on your head,
If ill manners were wit,
There's no mortal so tit
Holy Will (233), Holy Will,
There was wit i' your skull, Unconscious what evil await;
When ye pilfer'd the alms o' the poor; Wi, a jump, yell, and howl,
The timmer is scant, Alarm every soul,
When ye're ta'en for a saunt, For the foul thief is just at your gate. Wha should swing in a rape for an hour,
Calvin's sons, Calvin's sons,
Lord help me thro' this warld o' care!
I'm weary sick o't late and air !
Not but I hae a richer share
Than mony ithers;
But why should ae man better fare,
And a' men brithers ?
Come, firm Resolve, take thou the van, Wi' your priest-skelping turns,
Thou stalk o' carl hemp in man!
A lady fair :
Wha does the utmost that he can,
Will whyles do mair.
To make a happy fire-side clime
To weans and wife,
That's the true pathos and sublime
Of human life.
My compliments to sister Beckie;
As e'er tread clay !
And gratefully, my guid auld cockie,
I'm yours for aye.
FAIR the face of orient day,
Fair the tints of op'ning rose;
But fairer still my Delia dawns,
More lovely far her beauty shows. Had at the time some dainty fair one
Sweet the lark's wild warbled lay,
Sweet the tinkling rill to hear;
But, Delia, more delightful still,
Steal thine accents on mine car.
The flower-enamoured busy bee,
The rosy banquet lores to sin; I'm turned a ganger.--Peace be here!
Sweet the streamlet's limpid lapse
To the sun-brown'd Arab's lip.
But, Delia, on thy balmy lips
Let me, no vagrant insect, rove;
Oh, let me steal one liquid kiss, Ye glaiket, gleesome, dainty damies,
For, oh! my soul is parched with love.
TO MRS DUNLOP.. (242)
This day, Time winds th' exhausted chain, They maun hae brose and brats o' duddies; To run the twelvemonth's length again : Ye ken yoursels my heart right proud is- I see the old, bald-pated fellow, I need na vaunt,
With ardent eyes, complexion sallow, But I'll sned besons-thraw saugh woodies, Adjust the unimpair'd machine, Before they want.
To wheel the equal, full routine,
m'he absent lover, minor heir,
Old Father Time deputes me here before ye, In vain assail him with their prayer;
Not for to preach, but tell his simple story: Deaf as my friend, he sees them press, The saye grave ancient cough'd, and bade Nor makes the hour one moment less. Will you (the Major's (243) with the hounds, “You're one year older this important day." The happy tenants share his rounds ; If wiser, too-he hinted some suggestion, Coila's fare Rachel's (244) care to-day, But 'twould be rude, you know, to ask the And blooming Keith's engaged with Gray) question; From housewife cares a minute borrow- And with a would-be roguish leer and wink, That grandchild's cap will do to-morrow-He bade me on you press this one word And join with me a-moralizing:
" think!” This day's propitious to be wise in. First, what did yesternight deliver ?
Ye sprightly youths quite flushed with hope
and spirit, “Another year gone
for ever." And what is this day's strong suggestion ?
Who think to storm the world by dint of “The passing moment's all we rest on!”
To you the dotard has a deal to say, Rest on--for what? what do we here?
In his sly, dry, sententious, proverb way; Or why regard the passing year? Will time, amus'd with proverb'd lore,
He bids you mind, annid your thoughtless
rattle, Add to our date one minute more ?
That the first blow is ever half the battle; A few days may—a few years must
That tho' some by the skirt may try to Repose us in the silent dust.
snatch him, Then is it wise to dainp our bliss ?
Yet by the forelock is the hold to catch him, Yes—all such reasonings are amiss !
That whether doing, suffering, or forbearing, The voice of Nature loudly cries,
You may do miracles by perseverving.
Last, tho' not least in love, ye youthful fair, That on this frail, uncertain state,
Angelic forms, high Heaven's peculiar care! Ilang matters of eternal weight:
To you old Bald-pate smooths his wrinkled That future life in worlds unknown Must take its hue from this alone;
And humbly begs you'll mind the important Whether as heavenly glory bright,
Now ! Or dark as misery's woeful night,
To crown your happiness he asks your leave, Since, then, my honour'd, first of friends, And offers bliss to give and to receive. On this poor being all depends. Let us th' important now employ,
For our sincere, tho’ haply weak endeavours, And live as those who never die.
With grateful pride we own your many
favours; Tho’ you, with days and honours crown'd, Witness that filial circle round,
And howsoe'er our tongues may ill reveal it, (A sight, life's sorrows to repulse,
Believe our glowing bosons truly feel it. A sight, pale envy to convulse,) Others now claim your chief regard; Yourself, you wait your bright reward.
FOR MR. SUTHERLAND'S BENEFIT NIGHT, Prologne,
WHAT needs this din about the town o' SPOKEN AT THE THEATRE, DUMTRIES,
Lon'on, NEW-YEAR'S-DAY EVENING. 
How this new play and that new sang is No song nor dance I bring from yon great
Why is outlandish stuff sae meikle courted ? That quieens it o'er our taste—the more's Does nonsense mend like whiskey, when imthe pity :
ported ? Tho', by-the-bye, abroad why will you Is there nae poet, burning keen for fame, roam ?
Will try to gie us songs and plays at hame? Good sense and taste are natives here at For comedy abroad he needna toil, home :
A fool and knave are plants of every soil ; But not for panegyric I appear,
Nor need he hunt as far as Rome and Greece I come to wish you all a good new year! To gather matter for a serious piece;