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Now, thank our stars! these Gothic times | He sang wi' joy the former day, are fled;
[bred He weeping wail'd his latter times; Now, well-bred menand you are all well But what he said it was nae playMost justly think (and we are much the I winna ventur't in my rhymes. gainers)
[ners. (269) Such conduct neither spirit, wit, nor man
Likerta-. Fragment. For Right the third, our last, our best, our dearest,
THEE, Caledonia, thy wild heaths among, That right to fluttering female hearts the Thee, famed for martial deed and sacred song Which even the Rights of Kings in low
To thee I turn with swimming eyes! prostration
[tion! Where is that soul of freedom fled ? Most humbly own--'tis dear, dear admira- | Immingled with the mighty dead !
Beneath the hallow'd turf where Wallace In that blest sphere alone we live and move: There taste that life of life--immortal love.
Hear it not, Wallace, in thy bed of death! Smiles, glances, sighs, tears, fits, flirtations,
Ye babbling winds, in silence sweep; airs,
Disturb not ye the hero's sleep, 'Gains't such an host what fiinty savage Nor give the coward secret breath. dares ?
Is this the power in freedom's war, When awful Beauty joins with all her
That wont to bid the battle rage ? Who is so rash as rise in rebel arms ?
Behold that eye which shot immortal hate,
Crushing the despot's proudest bearing But truce with kings and truce with consti- Behold e'en grizzly death's majestic state tutions,
When Freedom's sacred glance e'en death With bloody armaments and revolutions,
is wearing Let majesty your first attention summon, Ah! ca ira! THE MAJESTY OF WOMAN.
To Mr. Marwell,
OF TERRAUGHTY, ON HIS BIRTH-DAY, & Vision.
HEALTH to the Maxwell's vet'ran chief! As I stood by yon roofless tower (270),
Health, aye unsour'd by care or grief:
This natal morn;
I see thy life is stuff o'prief,
Scarce quite half worn.
This day thou metes'st three score eleven,
And I can tell that bounteous Heaven
(The second sight, ye ken, is given
To ilka poet) The stream, adown its hazelly path,
On thee a tack o' seven times seven Was rushing by the ruin'd wa's,
Will yet bestow it. Hasting to join the sweeping Nith,
If envious buckies view wi' sorrow Whose distant roaring swells and fa's.
Thy lengthen’d days on this blest morrow, The cauld blue north was streaming forth
May desolation's lang teeth'd harrow, Her lights, wi' hissing eerie din;
Nine miles an hour, Athwart the lift they start and shift,
Rake them like Sodom and Gomorrah,
In brimstane shoure
Baith honest men and lasses bonnie,
May couthie fortune, kind and cannie, Attir'd as minstrels wont to be.
In social glee, Had I a statue been o'stane,
Wi' mornings blythe and e'enings funny, His darin' look had daunted me;
Bless them and thee! And on his bonnet grav'd was plain,
Fareweel, auld birkie! Lord be near ye, The sacred motto--“ Libertie !"
And then the deil he daurna steer ye: And frae his harp sic strains did flow,
Your friends aye love, your
ye, Might rous'd the slumb'ring dead to hear;
For me, shame fa' me, But oh! it was a tale of woe,
If near'st my heart I dinna wear ye As ever met a Briton's ear,
While Burns they ca' me!
zonnet, WRITTEN ON THE 25TH JANUARY 1793, TH. BIRTHDAY OF THE AUTHOR, ON HEARING A
THRUSH SING IN A MORNING WALK. SING on, sweet thrush, upon the leafless
bough, Sing on, sweet bird, I listen to thy strain,
See aged Winter, 'mid his surly reign, At thy blythe carol clears his furrow'd brow. So in lone Poverty's dominion drear, Sits meek Content with light unanxious heart,
[part, Welcomes the rapid moments, bids them Nor asks if they bring ought to hope or
On Pastoral Portrq. (271) HAIL Poesie! thou Nymph reserv'd ! In chase o' thee, what crowds hae swerv'd Frae common sense, or sunk unnerv'd
Mang heaps o'clavers; And och! owre aft thy joes hae starv'd,
Mid a' thy favours ! Say, Lassie, why thy train amang, While loud, the trump's heroic clang, And sock or buskin skelp alang
To death or marriage;
But wi' miscarriage?
Ev'n Sappho's flame.
O' heathen tatters:
That ape their betters.
And rural grace ;
A rival place?
A chiel sae clever;
But thou's for ever!
I thank thee, Author of this opening day! Thou whose bright sun now gilds yon
orient skies! Riches denied, thy boon was purer joys, What wealth could never give nor take
away! Yet come, thou child of poverty and care, The mite high Heaven bestowed, that mite
with thee I'll share.
Thou paints auld nature to the nines,
Her griefs will tell!
Wi hawthorns grey, Where blackbirds join the shepherd's lays
At close o' day.
O' witchin' love;
The sternest move.
Thr Tirt of Librrtit
. (272) HEARD ye o' the tree o' France,
I watna what's the name o't; Around it a’ the patriots dance,
Weel Europe kens the fame o't. It stands where ance the Bastile stood,
A prison built by kings, man, When Superstition's hellish brood
Kept France in leading strings, man. Upo' this tree there grows sic fruit,
Its virtue's a' can tell, man; It raises man aboon the brute,
It maks him ken himself, man. If ance the peasant taste a bit
He's greater than a lord, man,
O' a' he can afford, man.
To confort us 'twas sent, man :
And mak us a' content, man.
Maks high and low guid friends, man; And he wha acts the traitor's part,
It to perdition sends, man.
Wha pitied Gallia's slaves, man,
Frae yon't the western waves, man.
Syne let us pray, auld England may
Sure plant this far-famed tree, man; And blythe we'll sing, and hail the day
That gave us liberty, man.
To Genrral Dimonrirr.
Fair Virtue water'd it wi' care,
And now she sees wi' pride, man How weel it buds and blossoms there.
Its branches spreading wide, man, But vicious folk aye hate to see
The works o' Virtue thrive, man; The courtly vermin's banned the tree,
And grat to see it thrive, man, King Loui' thought to cut it down,
When it was unco'sma', man; For this the watchman cracked his crown,
Cut aff his head and a', nan.
Did tak a solemn aith, man,
I wat they pledged their faith, man;
Like beagles hunting game, man, But soon grew weary o’the trade,
And wished they'd been at lame, man, For Freedon, standing by the tree,
Her sons did loudly ca’, man; She sang a song o'liberty,
Which pleased them ane and a’, man. By her inspired, the new-born race
Soon drew the avenging steel, man ; The hirelings ran-her foes gied chase,
And banged the despot weel, man.
Her poplar and her pine, man,
And o'er her neighbours shine, man.
And soon 't will be agreed, man, That sic a tree can not be found,
'Twixt London and the Tweed, man. Without this tree, alack this life
Is but a vale o' woe man ;
Nae real joys we know, man.
To feed the titled knave, man; And a' the comfort we're to get,
Is that ayont the grave, man. Wi' plenty o'sic trees, I trow,
The warld would live in peace, man; The sword would help to mak a plough,
The din o' war wad cease, man. . Like brethren in a common cause,
We'd on each other smile, man; And equal rights and equal laws
Wad gladden every isle, man. Wae worth the loon wha wadna eat
Sic whalesome, dainty cheer, man; I'd gie my shoon frae aff my feet,
To taste sic fruit, I swear, man.
SENT TO A GENTLEMAN WHOM HE HAD OFFENDED.
(274) The friend whom wild from wisdom's way,
The fumes of wine infuriate send (Not moony madness more astray)
Who but deplores that hapless friend? Mine was tl' insensate frenzied part,
Ah, why should I such scenes outlive lScenes so abhorrent to
heart! 'Tis thine to pity and forgive
Monor ON A LADY FAMED FOR HER CAPRICE. (275) How cold is that bosom which folly once
fir'd, How pale is that cheek where the rouge lately glisten'd:
[tired, How silent that tongue which the echoes oft How dull is that ear which to flattery so
listen'd! If sorrow and anguish their exit await, From friendship and dearest affection
remov'd; How doubly severer. Eliza, thy fate, [lov'd.
Thou diedst unwept, as thou lived'st un.