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THE LADDIES BY THE BANKS O’NITH.
I gaed up to Dunse,

On a Plonghman.
To warp a wab o'plaiden ;
At his daddie's yett,

As I was a-wand'ring ane morning in spring,
Wha met me but Robin ?

I heard a young ploughman sae sweetly to

sing; Was na Robin bauld,

And as he was singing these words, he did say, Though I was a cotter,

There's nae life like the ploughman's in the
Play'd me sic a trick,

mouth o'sweet May.
And me the eller's dochter?
Robin promised me

The lav'rock in the morning she'll rise frae
A' my winter vittle;
1 her nest,

[breast, Fient haet he had but three

And mount to the air wi' the dew on her Goose feathers and a whittle. And wi' the merry ploughman she'll whistle

and sing,

{again. And at night she'll return to her nest back buretest Tilay. SWEETEST May, let love inspire thee; Take a heart which he desires thee; As thy constant slave regard it;

The Wrarn Bund v* Tow. For its faith and truth reward it.

TUNEThe Weary Pund o' Tow. Proof oshot to birth or money,

TIE weary pund, the weary pund,
Not the wealthy but the bonnie;
Not high-born, but noble-minded,

The weary pund o' tow;

I think my wife will end her life
In love's silken band can bind it.

Before she spin her tow.
I bought my wife a stane o' lint

As guid as c'er did grow;
The Lass of Errlrferhan. And a' that she has made o' that,
TUNE--Jacky Latin.

is ane poor pund o' tow.

There sat a bottle in a bole,
GAT ye me, oh gat ye me,

Beyont the ingle lowe,
Oh gat ye me wi' naething
Rock and reel, and spinnin' wheel,

And aye she took the tither souk,

To drouk the stowrie tow.
A mickle quarter basin.
Bye attour, my gutcher lias

Quoth I, for shame, ye dirty dame,
A hich house and a laigh ane,

Gae spin your tap o' tow! A' forbye my homie sel',

She took the rock, and wi' a knock The lass of Ecclefcchian.

She brak it o'er my pow. Oh haud your tongue now, Luckie Laing,

At last her feet-I sang to see'tOh haud your tongue and jannier;

Gaed foremost o'er the knowe; I held the gate till you I met,

And ere I wad anither jad, Syne I began to wander :

I'll wallop in a tow.
I tint my whistle and my sang,

I tint my peace and pleasure :
But your green graff, 110w, Luckie Laing,
Wad airt me to my treasure.

| The Laddies by the Banks a' Ilith. (390)

TUNE-Up and waur them a'. Brrr's a Bottle and an Honest Friend,

The laddies by the banks o' Nith, Here's a bottle and an honest friend! Wad trust his Grace wi' a', Jamie,

Wha wad ye wish for mair, man? | But he'll sair them as he sair'd the king, Wha kens, before his life 1 ay end,

Turn tail and rin awa, Jamie.
What his share may be o'cire, man?
Then catch the moments as they fly,

Up and waur them a', Jamie,
And use them as ye ought, man :-

Up and waur theni a'; Believe me, happiness is shy,

The Johnstones hae the guidin' o't, And comes na aye when sought, man.

Ye turncoat whigs, awa.

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The day he stude his country's friend, But Queen Netherplace, of a different comOr gied her faes a claw, Jamie,

plexion,

[tion, Or frae puir man a blessin' van,

When call’d on to order the fun'ral direcThat day the duke ne'er saw, Jamie. Would have ate her dead lord, on a slender But wha is he, his country's boast ?

pretence,

(expense!

Not to show her respect, but--to save the
Like him there is na twa, Jamie;
There's no a callant tents the kye,

But kens o' Westerha', Jamie.
To end the wark, here's Whistlebirck,

On Elphinstone's
Lang may his whistle blaw, Jamie ;

Translations of partial's Epigrams.
And Maxwell true o' sterling blue,
And we'll be Johnstones a', Jamie.

(393)
On thon, whom poesy abhors,
Whom prose has turned out of doors,
Heard'st thou that groan--proceed no

further;
Twas laurelled Martial roaring murther!

Epigrams, Kr.

On Miss I örutt, of Ayr.
On Captain Grose,

Oh! had each Scot of ancient times, THE CELEBRATED ANTIQUARY. (391)

Been JEANY SCOTT, as thou art;

The bravest heart on English ground, THE Devil got notice that GROSE was Had yielded like a coward. a-dying,

[flying; So whip! at the summons, old Satin came But when he approach'd where poor FRANCIS lay moaning,

On an Illiterate Gentleman, And saw each bed-post with its burden a

WHO HAD A FINE LIBRARY. groaning (392), Astonish’d, confounded, cried Satan,"By

| FREE through the leaves, ye maggots, make I'll want’im, ere I take such a damnable load,' your windings;

[bindings! But for the owner's sake, oh spare the

On a dienprrked Country Squire.

Written Oh death, hadst thou but spar'd his life UNDER THE PICTURE OF MISS BURNS. (394) Whom we this day lament,

CEASE, ye prudes, your envious railings, We freely wad exchang'd the wife,

Lovely Burns has charms--confess : And a' been weel content,

True it is, she had one failing-
E'en as he is, cauld in his graff,

Had a woman ever less ?
The swap we yet will do't;
Tak thou the carlin's carcase aff.
Thou'se get the saul to boot.

Written on a Window of the Sun

AT CARRON.

WE cam na here to view your warks
Innther on his Widow. In hopes to be mair wise,

But only, lest we gang to hell,
ONE Queen Artemisia, as old stories tell,
When deprived of her husband she loved so !

It may be nae surprise:

[show'd her, But whan we tirled at your door, In respect for the love and affection he Your porter dought na hear us; She reduc'd him to dust, and she drank off Sae may, should we to hell's yetts come, the powder.

Your billy Satan sair us!

well,

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On an Empty Fellow,
WHO IN COMPANY ENGROSSED THE CONVERSATION

WITH AN ACCOUNT OF HIS GREAT CONNEXIONS.
No more of your titled acquaintances boast,

And what nobles and gentles you've seen ; || An insect is still but an insect at most,

Tho'it crawl on the curl of a Queen!

The Crred nf Poverty. (401)
IN politics if thou would'st mix,

And mean thy fortunes be,
Bear this in mind :--be deaf and blind,

Let great folks hear and see.

live,

Written in a Lady's Parket-Bank. Written on a Pane uf Glass,

GRANT me, indulgent Heav'n, that I may ON

[give, THE OCCASION OF A NATIONAL To see the miscreants feel the pains they THANKSGIVING FOR A NAVAL Victory. Deal freedom's sacred treasures free as air, Ye hypocrites! are these your pranks?- | Till slave and despot be but things which To murder men, and gie God thanks!

were. For shame! gie o'er, proceed no furtherGod won't accept your thanks for murther!

To Suhn Taylar. (402) The Trne Lonal Ilatives. (400) With Pegasuis upon a day,

Apollo weary flying, Ye true “Loyal Natives," attend to my song

Through frostý hills the journey lay,
In uproar and riot rejoice the night long:

On foot the way was plying.
From envy and hatred your corps is exempt;
But where is your shield from the darts o' Poor slip-shod giddy Pegasus
contempt?

Was but a sorry walker;
To Vulcan then Apollo goes,

To get a frosty calker.

Obliging Vulcan fell to work,
Sitscription on a Goblet.

Threw by his coat and bonnet,
THERE's death in the cup--sae beware!

And did Sol's business in a crack;
Nay, more-there is danger in touching;

Sol paid him with a sonnet.
But wha can avoid the fell snare?
The man and his wine's sae bewitching!

Ye Vulcan's sons of Wanlockhead,

Pity my sad disaster;
My Pegasus is poorly shod-

I'll pay you like my master.
Extempore on Jr. Syne.
No more of your guests, be they titled or

not,
And cookery the first in the nation;

To Miss Fontenelle, Who is proof to thy personal converse and ! ON SEEING HER IN A FAVOURITE wit,

CHARACTER. Is proof to all other temptation.

SWEET naïveté of feature,

Simple, wild, enchanting elf,

Not to thee, but thanks to Nature,
To Mr. Syme,

Thou art acting but thyself.
WITH A PRESENT OF A DOZEN OF PORTER.

Wert thou awkward, stiff, affected, Oh, had the malt thy strength of mind, Spurning nature, torturing art; Or hops the flavour of thy wit,

Loves and graces all rejected, "Twere drink for first of human kind,

Then indeed thou’d'st act a part. A gift that e'en for Syme were fit.

GRACES BEFORE MEAT.

259

Toast to the Same. (406) Fill me with the rosy wine, Call a toastma toast divine; Give the poet's darling flame, Lovely Jessy be the name; Then thou mayest freely boast Thou hast given a peerless toast.

The Toast. (403) INSTEAD of a song, boys, I'll give you a |

toastHere's the memory of those on the twelth

that we lost! That we lost, did I say? nay, by Heav'n,

that we found; For their fame it shall last while the world goes round.

[King! | The next in succession, I'll give you-the Whoe'er would betray him, on high may he swing;

[tution, And here's the grand fabric, our free ConstiAs built on the base of the great Revolution; i And longer with politics not to be cramm'd, Be Anarchy curs'd, and be Tyranny damn'd: And who would to Liberty e'er prove disloyal, May his son be a hangman, and he his first

trial.

Epitaph on the Same. (407) SAY, sages, what's the charm on earth

Can turn death's dart aside ? It is not purity and worth,

Else Jessy had not died.

To the Same.
But rarely seen since Nature's birth.

The natives of the sky;
Yet still one seraph's left on earth.

For Jessy did not die.

Errisemen Aniversal, WRITTEN ON A WINDOW. (404) Ye men of wit and wealth, why all this sneering

shearing, 'Gainst poor excisemen? give the cause a What are your landlords' rent-rolls ? tearing ledgers:

(mighty gaugers : What premiers--what? even nionarchs' Nay, what are priests, those seeming godly

wise men ? What are they, pray, but spiritual excisemen?

Grarrs befare Prat. SOME hae meat and canna eat,

And some would eat that want it, But we hae meat, and we can eat,

Sae let the Lord be thankit.

To Dr. Itlarwell,
ON MISS JESSY STAIG'S RECOVERY.
MAXWELL, if merit here you crave,

That merit I deny
You save fair Jessy from the grave!
An angel could not die.

Oh Thou, who kindly dost provide

For every creature's want!
We bless Thee, God of Nature wide,

For all thy goodness lent:
And, if it please Thee, heavenly guide,

May never worse be sent; But whether granted or denied,

Lord, bless us with content! Amen!

On Jessi Trwars. (405) Talk not to me of savages

From Afric's burning sun; No savage e'er could rend my heart,

As, Jessy, thou hast done. But Jessy's lovely hand in mine,

A mutual faith to plight, Not even to view the heavenly choir

Would be so blest a sight.

Oh Thou, in whom we live and move

Who mad'st the sea and shore;
Thy goodness constantly we prove,

And grateful would adore.
And if it please thee, Pow'r above,

Still grant us, with such store.
The friend we trust, the fair we love,

And we desire no more.

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