Epitaphs.

On John Done.

INNKEEPER, MAUCHLINE.
Here lies Johnny Pidgeon;
What was his religion ?

Wha e'er desires to ken,
On the Author's Father. To some other warl'

Maun follow the carl,
Oh ye whose cheek the tear of pity stains,

For here Johnny Pidgeon had nane! Draw near with pious rev'rence and attend ! Here lie the loving husband's dear remains, Strong ale was ablutionThe

der father, and the gen’rous friend. Small beer, persecution, The pitying heart that felt for human woe; A dram was memento mori; The dauntless heart that fear'd no human But a full flowing bowl pride;

Was the joy of his soul, The friend of man, to vice alone a foe; And port was celestial glory. “For ev'n his failings lean’d to virtue's side.” (408)

For Robert Aliken, Esq.

KNOW thou, oh stranger to the fame On a Denperk'Cunutry squire.

Of this much lov'd, much honour'd name!

(For none that knew him need be told) As father Adam first was food,

A warmer heart death ne'er made cold.
A case that's still too common,
Here lies a man a woman rul'd,
The devil rul'd the woman

On & Frienù.
An honest man here lies at rest
As e'er God with his image blest!

The friend of man, the friend of truth; On a Celrbratrů Ruling Elder.

The friend of age, and guide of youth; HERE souter Hood in death does sleep Few hearts like his, with virtue warm’d, To hell, if he's gane thither.

Few heads with knowledge so inform’d; Satan, gie him the gear to keep

If there's another world, he lives in bliss; He'll hand it weel thegither.

If there is none, he made the best of this.

On a Fluish Polemir. (409)
BELOW these stanes lie Jamie's banes :

Oh Death, it's my opinion,
Thou ne'er took such a bleth'rin bitch

Into thy dark dominion !

Für Gavin Daniilton.
THE poor man weeps-here Gavin sleeps,

Whom canting wretches blamd:
But with such as he, where'er he be,

May I be sav'd or damn'd!

On Wre Johnnn. (410)

HIC JACET WEE JOHNNY. WHOE'ER thou art, oh reader, know,

That death has murder'd Johnny ! And here his body lies fu' low

For saul he ne'er had ony.

On Wat.
Sic a reptile was Wat,

Sic a miscreant slave,
That the very worms damn'd him

When laid in his grave.
“In his flesh there's a famine,"

A starv'd reptile cries;
“ And his heart is rank poison,"

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