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Quench, a gin shontruth,

ON THE DEATH OF A FAVOURITE CHILD.

195 Here its stuff and lining,

Dame Life, tho' fiction out may trick her, Cardoness's head;

And in paste gems and fuppery deck her; Fine for a sodger

Oh! flickering, feeble, and unsicker
A' the wale o' lead.

I've found her still
Buy braw troggin, &c. Aye wavering like the willow-wicker,

"Tween good and ill.
Here's a little wadset
Buittle's scrap o' truth,

Then that curst carmagnole, auld Satan, Pawn'd in a gin shop

Watches like baudrons by a rattan,
Quenching holy drouth.

Our sinfu' saul to get a claut on

Wi' felon ire;
Buy braw troggin, &c.

Syne, whip! his tail ye'll ne'er cast saut onHere's armorial bearings,

He's aff like fire.
Frae the manse o' Urr;
The crest, an auld crab-apple (295)

Auld Nick! auld Nick! it is na fair,
Rotten at the core.

First showing us the tempting ware,
Buy braw troggin, &c.

Bright wines and bonnie lasses rare,

To put us daft;
Here is Sata

Syne weave, unseen, thy spider snare
Like a bizzard gled,

O'hell's damn'd waft.
Pouncing poor Redcastle

Poor man, the flie, aft bizzes by,
Sprawlin' as a taed.

And aft as chance he comes thee nigh,
Buy braw troggin, &c.

Thy auld damn'd elbow yeuks wi' joy,
Here's the worth and wisdom

And hellish pleasure ;
Collieston can boast;

Already in thy fancy's eye,
By a thievish midge

Thy sicker treasure !
They had been nearly lost.
Buy braw troggin, &c.

Soon heel’s-o'er-gowdie! in he gangs,

And like a sheep-head on a tangs,
Here is Murray's fragments

Thy girning laugh enjoys his pangs
O'the ten commands;

And murd'ring wrestle,
Gifted by black Jock

As, dangling in the wind, he hangs
To get them aff his hands.

A gibbet's tassel.
Buy braw trogyin, &c

But lest you think I am uncivil,
Saw ye e'er sic troggin ?

To plague you with this draunting drivel, If to buy ye're slack,

Abjuring a' intentions evil, Hornie's turnin' chapman

1 at 11ly pen : He'll buy a' the pack.

The Lord preserve us a' frae the devil!
Buy braw troggin

Amen! Amen!
Frae the banks o' Dee;
Wha wants troggin
Let him come to me.

Susiription

FOR AN ALTAR TO INDEPENDENCE. (297) On Life,

Tuou of an independent mind,

With soul resolv'd, with soul resign'd; ADDRESSED TO COLONEL DE PEYSTEP.

Prepar'd Powers proudest frown to brave, (296) DUMFRIES, 1796.

Who wilt not be, nor have a slave; My honoured colonel, deep I feel

Virtue alone who dost revere, Your interest in the poet's weal :

Thy own reproach alone dost fear, Ah! now sma' heart hae I to speel

| Approach this shrine, and worship here, The steep Parnassus, Surrounded thus by bolus pill, And potion glasses.

On the Deaty of a Fafanrite Child. Oh what a canty warld were it, Would pain and care and sickness spare it; And fortune favour worth and merit, Oh sweet be thy sleep in the land of the As tkey deserve !

My dear little angel, for ever; [grave, (And aye a rowth roast beef and claret; For ever--oh no! let not man be a slave, Syne wha wad starve ?)

His hopes from existence to sever.

(298)

Though cold be the clay where thou pillow'st |

POSTCRIPT. thy head,

Ye've heard this while how I've been licket, In the dark silent mansions of sorrow,

And by fell death was nearly nicket; The spring shall return to thy low narrow Grim loan! he got me by the fecket, bed,

And sair me sheuk; Like the beam of the day-star to-morrow. But by guid luck I lap a wicket. The flower stem shall bloom like thy sweet

And turn'd a neuk. seraph form,

But by that health, I've got a shore o't, Ere the spoiler had nipt thee in blossom, | And by that life. I'm promised mair o't When thou shrunk'st frae the scowl of the My hale and weel. I tak a care o't. loud winter storm,

A tentier way;
And nestled thee close to that bosom Then farewell folly, hide and hair o't,
Oh still I behold thee, all lovely in death,

For ance and aye !
Reclined on the lap of thy mother;
When the tear trickled bright, when the

short stifled breath, Told how dear ye were aye to each other. The Ruined Plaid's Lament. My child, thou art gone to the home of Ou, meikle do I rue, fause love, thy rest,

Oh sairly do I rue, Where suffering no longer can harm ye, That e'er 1 heard your flattering tongue, Where the songs of the good, where the That e'er your face I knew. hymns of the blest,

Oh, I hae tent my rosy cheeks, Through an endless existence shall charm

Likewise my waist sae sma'; thee.

And I hae lost my lightsome heart, While he, thy fond parent, must sighing

That little wist a fa'. sojourn,

Now I maun thole the scornfu' sneer Through the dire desert regions of sorrow,

O'mony a saucy quean; O'er the hope and misfortune of being to

When, gin the truth were a' hut kent, mourn,

Her life's been warse than mine. And sigh for this life's latest morrow.

Whene'er my father thinks on me,

He stares into the wa';
My mither, she has taen the bed

Wi' thiuking on my fa'.
To Mr. Mitchell,

Whene'er I hear my father's foot,
COLLECTOR OF EXCISE, DUMFRIES, 1796. My heart wad burst wi' pain;

Whene'er I meet my mither's ee, FRIEND of the Poet, tried and leal,

My tears rin down like rain,
Wha, wanting thee, might beg or steal ;

Alas! sae sweet a tree as love
Alack! alack! the meikle diel
Wi' a' his witches

Sic bitter fruit should bear!
Are at it, skelpin' jig and reel,

Alas! that e'er a bonnie face

Should draw a sauty tear!
In my poor pouches !
I modestly fu' fain wad hint it,
That one pound one, I sairly want it;
If wi' the hizzie down ye sent it,

The Dean of the Farnltg.
It would be kind ;

A NEW BALLAD. (299)
And while my heart wi' lif-blood daunted,
I'd bear't in mind,

DIRE was the hate at old Harlaw,

. That Scot to Scot did carry; So may the auld year gang out moaning And dire the discord Langside saw, To see the new come laden, groaning,

For beauteous hapless Mary :
Wi' double plenty o'er the loanin

But Scot with Scot ne'er met so hot,
To thee and thine;

Or were more in fury seen. Sir. Ciob Domestic peace and comforts crowning Than 'twixt Hal and Bob for the famous The hale design.

| Who should be Faculty's Dean, Sir.

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This Hal for genus, wit, and lore,

But now the cot is bare and cauld,

Its branchy shelter's lost and gane,
Among the first was number'd;
But pious Bob, ’mid learning's store,

And scarce a stinted birk is lest
Commandment ten remember'd.

To shiver in the blast is lane." Yet simple Bob the victory got,

“ Alas!" said I, “what ruefu' chance And won his heart's desire;

Has twin'd ye o' your stately trees? Which shows that Heaven can boil the pot, Has laid your rocky bosom bare ? Though the devil's --- in the fire.

Has stripp'd the cleeding o' your braes ?

Was it the bitter eastern blast, Squire Hal besides had in this case

That scatters blight in early spring ? Pretensions rather brassy,

Or was't the wil'fire scorched their boughs, For talents to deserve a place

Or canker-worm wi' secret sting ?”
Are qualifications saucy ;
So their worships of the “ Faculty »

"Nae eastlin blast," the sprite replied: Quite sick of merit's rudeness,

"It blew na here sae fierce and fell, Chose one who should owe it all, d'ye see, And on my dry and whalesome banks To their gratis grace and goodness.

Nae canker-worms get leave to dwell:

Man! cruel man!" the genius sigh'd As once on Pisgah purg'd was the sight

As through the cliff's he sank him down Of a son of Circumcision,

The worm that guaw'd my bonnie trees, So may be, on this Pisgal height,

That reptile wears a ducal crown."
Bob's purblind, mental vision:
Nay, Bobby's mouth may be open'd yet
Till for eloquence you hail him,

On tlje Duke af Qurrnslurn. (301)
And swear he has the Angel met
That met the Ass of Balaam.

How shall I sing Drumlanrig's Grace
Discarded remnant of a race

Once great in martial story?
Verses

His forbears' virtues all contrasted
ON THE DESTRUCTION OF TIIE WOODS NEAR

The very name of Douglas blasted
DRUMLAXRIG. (300)

His that inverted glory.
As on the banks o' wandering Nith, Hate, envy, oft the Douglas bore;
Ane smiling simmer-inoru I strayed,

But he has superadded more, And traced its bonnie howes and haughs,

And sunk them in contempt; Where linties sang and lambkins play'd,

Follies and crimes have stain'd the name, *sat me down upon a craig,

But, Queensberry, thine the virgin claim, And drank my fill o' fancy's dream,

From ought that's good exempt. When, from the eddying deep below, Uprose the genius of the stream.

Verses fa Jahn JiL® Purào, Esq. Dark, like the frowning rock, his brow, And troubled, like his wintry wave,

(WITH A PRESENT OF BOOKS.) (302.)

OH, could I give thee India's wealth Amang his eaves, the sigh he gave

As I this trifle send, And came ye here, my son," he cried,

Because thy joy in both would be “To wander in my birken shade?

To share them with a friend. To muse some favourite Scottish theme, But golden sands did never grace

Or sing some favourite Scottish maid. “There was a time, it's nae lang syne,

Then take what gold could never buyYe might hae seen me in iny pride,

An honest Bard's esteem.
When a' my banks sae bravely saw
Their woody pictures in my tide;

On Mc. FL*Jurda.
When hanging beech and spreading elm
Shaded my stream sae clear and cool;

INSCRIBED ON A PANE OF GLASS IN And stately oaks their twisted arms

HIS HOUSE. Threw broad and dark across the pool !

BLEST be M'Murdo to his latest day!

No envious cloud o'ercast his evening ray; "When glinting, through the trees, appeared No wrinkle furrowed by the hand of care, The wee white cot aboon the mill,

Nor ever sorrow add one silver hair! And peacefu' rose its ingle reek,

Oh, may no son the father's honour stain, That slowly curled up the hill.

| Nor ever daughter give the mother pain!

DIL

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Impromptu on Willie ätewart, (303) But, Tibbie, lass, tak my advice, YOU'RE welcome, Willie Stewart,

Your daddie's gear maks you sae nice; You're welcome, Willie Stewart,

The deil a ane wad spier your price, There's ue'er a flower that blooms in May,

Were ye as poor as I. That's half sae welcome's thou art.

There lives a lass in yonder park, Come, bumpers high, express your joy,

I would na gie her in her sark, The bowl we maun renew it;

For thee, wi' a'thy thousan' mark;
The tappit-hen gae bring her ben,

Ye need na look sae high.
To welcome Willie Stewart.
May foes be strang, and friends be slack,
Ilk action may he rue it;

Hlontgomery's Pengo. (305)
May woman on him turn her back,

TUNE-Galla-Water. That wrangs thee, Willie Stewart.

ALTHO'my bed were in yon muir

Amang the heather, in my plaidie,
Tu Miss Jessi Lewars.

Yet happy, happy would I be,
(WITH A PRESENT OF BOOKS.]

Had I my dear Montgomery's Peggy. THINE be the volumes, Jessy fair,

When o'er the hill beat surly storms,

And winter nights were dark and rainy; That Fate may in her fairest page,

I'd seck some dell, and in my arms With ev'ry kindliest, best presage

I'd shelter dear Montgomery's Peggy. Of future bliss enrol thy name:

Were I a baron proud and high, With native worth, and spotless fame,

And horse and servants waiting ready, And wakeful caution still aware

Then a' 'twad yie o' joy to me, Of ill—but chief, man's felon snare;

The sharin't with Montgomery's Peggy. All blameless joys on earth we find, And all the treasures of the mind These be thy guardian and reward; So prays thy faithful friend the Bard.

Bannu Progy Allison. (306)

TUNE,Braes o' Balquhidder.
Tilbir, I har srrn the Dan. (304)

CHORUS,
TUNE-Invercauld's Reel.

I'll kiss thee yet, yet,

And I'll kiss thee d'e
Oh Tibbie, I hae seen the day

And I'll kiss thee, yet, yet,
Ye wad na been sae shy;
For lack o'gear ye slighted me,
But, trowth, I care na by.

Ilk care and fear, when thou art near, Yestreen I met you on the moor,

I ever mair defy them, O; Ye spak na, but gaed by like stoure;

Young kings upon their hansel throne Ye geck at me because I'm poor,

Are no sae blest as I am, O! But fient a hair care I.

When in my arms, wi' a'thy charms, I doubt na, lass, but ye may think,

I clasp my countless treasure, 0, Because ye hae the name o'clink,

I seek nae mair o' Heaven to share, That ye can please me at a wink,

Than sic a moment's pleasure, 0 ! Whene'er ye like to try.

And by thy een, sae bonnie blue, But sorrow tak him that's sae mean,

I swear I'm thine for ever, O! Altho' his pouch o' coin were clean,

And on thy lips I seal my vow,
Wha follows ony saucy quean,

And break it shall I never, O!
That looks sae proud and high.
Altho' a lad were e'er sae smart,
If that he want the yellow dirt,
Ye'll cast your head another airt,

Erre's to thy Health, my Bonny Lass, And answer him fu' dry.

TUNE-Laggan Burn. But if he hae the name o' gear,

HERE's to thy health, my bonnie lass, Ye'll fasten to him like a brier,

Guid night, and joy be wi' thee; Tho' hardly he, for sense or lear,

I'll come nae mair to thy bower-door, Be better than the kye.

To tell thee that I loe thee:

JOHN BARLEYCORN.

199 Oh dinna think, my pretty pink,

Detraction's eye no aim can gain, But I can live without thee:

Her winning powers to lessen; I vow and swear I dinna care

And fretful envy grins in vain How lang ye look about ye.

The poison'd tooth to fasten. Thou’rt aye sue free informing me

Ye pow'rs of honour, love and truth, Thou hast nae mind to marry;

From ev'ry ill defend her; I'll be as free informing thee

Inspire the highly-favour'd youth, Nae time hae I to tarry.

The destinies intend her: I ken thy friends try ilka means,

Still fan the sweet connubial flame Frae wedlock to delay thee;

Responsive in each bosom, Depending on some higher chance

| And bless the dear parental name But fortune may betray thee.

With many a filial blossom.
I ken they scorn my low estate,

But that does never grieve me;
But I'm as free as any he,
Sma' siller will relieve me.

Zuhn Barleyrarr.
I count my health my greatest wealth,

A BALLAD. (308)
Sae long as I'll enjoy it:
I'll fear nae scant, I'll bode nae want,

THERE were three kings into the east,
As lang's I get employment.

Three kings both great and high;

And they hae sworn a solemn oath But far off fowls hae feathers fair,

John Barleycorn should die. And aye until ye try them :

They took a plough and plough'd him down, Tho' they seein fair, still have a care, They may prove worse than I am.

Put clods upon his head; But at twilit night, when the moon shines And they hae sworn a solemn oath bright,

John Barleycorn was dead. My dea:, I'll come and see thee;

But the cheerful spring came kindly on For the man that loes his mistress weel,

And show'rs began to fall; Nae travel makes him weary.

John Barleycorn got up again,

And sore surpris'd them all.
The sultry suns of summer came,

And he grew thick and strong;
Yanng Peggy. (307)

His head weel arm’d wi' pointed spears,

That no one should him wrong. TUNE--Last time I came o'er the Muir.

The sober autumn enter'd mild, Young Peggy blooms our bonniest lass,

When he grew wan and pale ; Her blush is like the morning,

His bending joints and drooping head
The rosy dawn, the springing grass,

Show'd he began to fail.
With early gems adorning:
Her eyes outshine the radiant beams

His colour sicken'd more and more,
That gild the passing shower,

He faded into age; And glitter o'er the crystal streams,

And then his enemies began And cheer each fresh’ning flower.

To show their deadly rage. Her lips, more than the cherries bright, They've taen a weapon, long and sharp, A richer dye has graced them;

And cut him by the knee! They charm th' admiriny gazer's sight,

They tied him fast upon a cart, And sweetly tempt to taste them:

Like a rogue for forgerie. Her smile is, as the evening mild,

They laid him down upon his back, When feather'd tribes are courting,

And cudgell'd him full sore; And little lambkins wanton wild,

They hung him up before the storm In playful bands disporting.

And turn'd him o'er and o'er. Were fortune lovely Peggy's foe,

They filled up a darksome pit
Such sweetness would relent her

With water to the brim;
As blooming spring unbends the brow They heaved in John Barleycorn,
Of surly, savage winter.

There let him sink or swim.

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