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ON THE DEATH OF A FAVOURITE CHILD.
Here its stuff and lining,
Dame Life, tho' fiction out may trick her, Cardoness's head;
And in paste gems and frippery deck her; Fine for a sodger
Oh! flickering, feeble, and unsicker
I've found her still
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,
Watches like baudrons by a rattan,
Our sinfu' saul to get a claut on
Wi' felon ire;
Syne, whip! his tail ye'll ne'er cast saut onHere's armorial bearings,
He's aff like fire.
Auld Nick! auld Nick! it is na fair,
First showing us the tempting ware,
Bright wines and bonnie lasses rare,
To put us daft; Here is Satan's picture,
Syne weave, unseen, thy spider snare
O'hell's damn'd waft.
Poor man, the flie, aft bizzes by,
And aft as chance he comes thee nigh,
Thy auld damn'd elbow yeuks wi' joy,
And hellish pleasure ; Collieston can boast;
Already in thy fancy's eye, By a thievish midge
Thy sicker treasure !
Soon heel's-b'er-gowdie! in he gangs,
And like a sheep-head on a tangs,
Thy girning laugh enjoys his pangs O'the ten commands;
And muru’ring wrestle, Gifted by black Jock
As, dangling in the wind, he hangs
A gibbet's tassel.
But lest you think I am uncivil,
To plague you with this drauuting drivel, If to buy ye're slack,
Abjuring a' intentions evil, Hornie's turnin' chapman
I quat ly nen :
The Lord preserve us a' frae the devil!
FOR AN ALTAR TO INDEPENDENCE. (297) On Life,
Tuou of an independent mind,
With soul resolv'd, with soul resign'd; COLONEL DE PEYSTEP. Prepard 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,
Approach this shrine, and worship here,
On the Death of a Favonrite Chili. Oh what a canty warld were it,
OH sweet be thy sleep in the land of the
[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.
Though cold be the clay where thou pillow'st 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,
Aud sair me sheuk
; Like the beam of the day-star to-morrow. But by guid luck I lap a wicket,
And turn'd a neuk, The flower stem shall bloom like thy sweet 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'll 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,
For ance and aye !
short stifled breath.
Oh sairly do I rue, Where suffering no longer can harm ye,
That e'er I heard your flattering tongue, Where the songs of the good, where the That e'er your face I knew.
hymns of the blest, Through an endless existence shall charm Oh, I hae tent my rosy cheeks,
Likewise my waist sae sma’; thee.
And I hae lost my lightsome heart,
That little wist a fa'. While he, thy fond parent, must sighing 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 lite'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';
Wi' thinking on my fa'.
Whene'er I hear my father's foot,
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
Sic bitter fruit should bear!
Alas! that e'er a bonnie face
Should draw a sauty tear!
I modestly fu' fain wad hint it,
I'd bear't in mind.
So may the auld year gang out moaning
; Domestic peace and comforts crowning
The hale design.
The Dean of the Faraltg.
A NEW BALLAD. (299)
That Scot to Scot did carry;
For beauteous hapless Mary :
Or were more in fury seen, Sir, [job
Who should be Faculty's Dean, Sir.
But now the cot is bare and cauld, This Hal for genus, wit, and lore,
Its branchy shelter's lost and gane, Among the first was number'd;
And scarce a stinted birk is left
To shiver in the blast is lane."
“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 ?”
“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 cliffs he sank him down Of a son of Circumcision,
“ The worm that guaw'd my bonnie trees, So may be, on this Pisgahı height,
That reptile wears a ducal crown.”
On the Duke of Qurrislurn. (301)
How shall I sing Drumlanrig's Grace
Once great in martial story?
His forbears' virtues all contrasted
The very name of Douglas blasted-
His that inverted glory.
Hate, envy, oft the Douglas bore;
But he has superadded more, And traced its bonnie howes and haughs,
And sunk them in contempt;
Follies and crimes have stain'd the name, Where linties sang and lambkins play'd, 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.
Versrs fa Sahn filMurdo, Esq. Dark, like the frowning rock, his brow,
[WITH A PRESENT OF BOOKS.) (302.) And troubled, like his wintry ware, And deep, as sighs the boding wind
Oh, could I give thee India's wealth
As I this trifle send, Amang his eaves, the sig li he gave “And came ye here, my son,” he cried,
Because thy joy in both would be
To share them with a friend.
The Heliconian stream; “ There was a time, it's nae lang syne,
Then take what gold could never buy
An honest Bard's esteem.
On Fr. It hurti.
Shaded my stream sae clear and cool; And stately oaks their twisted arms 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!
INSCRIBED ON A PANE OF GLASS IN
Smpromptu on Willir Strmart, (303) YOU'RE welcome, Willie Stewart, You're welcome, Willie Stewart, There's ne'er a flower that blooms in May, That's half sae welcome's thou art. Come, bumpers high, express your joy,
The bowl we maun renew it; The tappit-hen gae bring her ben,
To welcome Willie Stewart.
Ilk action may he rue it;
That wrangs thee, Willie Stewart.
But, Tibbie, lass, tak my advice,
Were ye as poor as I.
Ye need na look sae high.
To Miss Jessi Lewars.
(WITH A PRESENT OF BOOKS.] THINE be the volumes, Jessy fair, And with them take the Poet's prayerThat Fate may in her fairest page, With ev'ry kindliest, best presage Of future bliss enrol thy name: With native worth, and spotless fame, And wakeful caution still aware Of ill-but chief, man's felon snare; 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.
Montgomery's Peggy. (305)
TUNE-Galla-Water. ALTHO'my bed were in yon muir
Amang the heather, in my plaidie, Yet happy, happy would I be,
Had I my dear Montgomery's Peggy. When o'er the hill beat surly storms,
And winter nights were dark and rainy; I'd seck some dell, and in my arms
I'd shielter dear Montgomery's Peggy. Were I a baron proud and high,
And horse and servants waiting ready, Then a’'twad gie o' joy to me,
The sharin't with Montgomery's Peggy.
Bunny Prggy Sllisunt. (306)
And I'll kiss thee o'er again;
My bonnie Peggy Alison;
I ever mair defy them, O; Young kings upon their hansel throne
Are no sae blest as I am, O!
Tibbir, I hae srrn thr Dan. (304)
Ye wad na been sae shy;
But, trowth, I care na by.
But fient a hair care I.
Whene'er ye like to try.
That looks sae proud and high.
And answer him fu' dry.
Be better than the kye.
When in my arms, wi' a' thy charms,
I clasp my countless treasure, 0, I seek nae mair o' Heaven to share,
Than sic a moment's pleasure, O! And by thy een, sae bonnie blue,
I swear I'm thine for ever, O! And on thy lips I seal my vow,
And break it shall I never, O!
Erre's ta thn Pralth, my Bonny Lass.
TUNE-Laggan Burn. HERE's to thy health, my bonnie lass,
Guid night, and joy be wi' thee; I'll come nae mair to thy bower-door,
To tell thee that I loe thee:
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;
A BALLAD. (308)
THERE were three kings into the east,
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 : Tho' they seein fair, still have a care, They took a plough and plough'd him down,
Put clods upon his head;
John Barleycorn was dead.
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.
And he grew thick and strong;
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:
His colour sicken'd more and more,
He faded into age;
And then his enemies began
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' admiring gazer's sight,
They tied him fast upon a cart, And sweetly tempt to taste theni :
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 cudyell’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
With water to the brim;
There let him sink or swim.