Was chofen fittest to improve

From rushy tufts the pleasing grove,
From bogs a rifing paradise.

Since earth's foundation to our present day
The beauteous plain in mud neglected lay.

Now, evenly planted, hedg'd, and drain'd,
Its verdures please the scent and fight;
And here the Fair may walk unpain'd,
Her flowing filks and shoes unstain❜d,

Round the green Circus of delight;

Which fhall by ripening time ftill fweeter grow, And Hope be fam'd while Scotsmen draw the bow.

Ah! while I fing, the northern air,

Thro' gore and carnage gives offence;
Which should not, while a river fair,
Without our walls, flows by fo near;

Carriage from thence but small expence;

The useful corporation too would find,

By working there, more health and ease of mind.

Then fweet our northern flow'rs would blow,
And sweet our northern alleys end;
Sweet all the northern fprings would flow,
Sweet northern trees and herbs would grow,

And from the lake a field be gain'd:

Where on the spring's green margin by the dawn, Our maids might wash, and blanch their lace and

lawn.

Forbid

1

Forbid a nafty pack to place

On ftalls unclean their herbs and roots, On the high street a vile difgrace,

And tempting to our infant race

To fwallow poison with their fruits *. Give them a station where less spoil'd and feen, The healthful herbage may keep fresh and clean.

Befides, they straiten much our street,

When those who drive the hack and dray,
In drunk and rude confufion meet,
We know not where to turn our feet;

Mortal our hazard every way :

Too oft the ag'd, the deaf, and little fry,
Hemm'd in with stalls, crufh'd under axles lie.

Clean order yields a vast delight,

And geniuses that brightest shine

Prefer

* With the more freedom fome thoughts in these stanzas are advanced, because several citizens of the best thinking, both in and out of the magiftracy, incline to, and have fuch views, if they were not oppofed by fome of grofs old-fashioned notions. Such will tell you, "O! the street of Edinburgh is "the finest garden of Scotland." And how can it otherwise be, confidering how well it is dunged every night! But this abuse we hope to fee reformed foon, when the cart and warning-bell fhall leave the lazy flattern without excufe, after ten at night.

Prefer the pleasure of the fight

Juftly, to theirs who day and night

Sink health and active thought in wine. Happy the man that 's clean in house and weed, Tho' water be his drink, and oats his bread.

Kind Fate! on them whom I admire,
Bestow neat rooms and gardens fair,
Pictures that speak the painter's fire,
And learning which the nine inspire,

With friends that all his thoughts may fhare; A house in Edinburgh, when the fullen storm Defaces nature's joyous fragrant form.

O! may we hope to see a stage,
Fill'd with the best of fuch as can
Smile down the follies of the age,
Correct dull pride and party rage,

And cultivate the growing man;

And fhew the virgin every proper grace,
That makes her mind as comely as her face.

Nor, will the most devout oppofe,
When with a strict judicious care
The scenes moft virtuous fhall be chofe,
That numerous are; forbidding those
That fhock the modeft, good, and fair.
The beft of things may often be abus'd;
That

argues not, when right, to be refus'd.

Thus,

1

Thus, what our fathers' wafting blood

Of old from the South Britons won, When Scotland reach'd to Humber's flood, We shall regain by arts lefs rude,

And bring the best and fairest down

From England's northern counties, nigh as far Distant from court as we of Pictland are.

Thus far, infpir'd with honeft zeal,

These thoughts are offer'd, with fubmiffion, By your own bard, who ne'er shall fail The interest of the common-weal,

While you indulge and grant permiffion To your oblig'd, thus humbly to rehearse

His honest and well-meaning thoughts in verse.

1728.

'TO ALEXANDER MURRAY OF BROUGHTON,

ON HIS MARRIAGE.

'Tis conquering love can move
The best to all that 's great,
It sweetly binds two equal minds,
And makes a happy state,
When fuch as Murray, of a temper even,

And honour'd worth, receives a mate from Heaven.
Joy to you, Sir, and joy to her,
Whose fofter charms can footh,
With smiling power, a fullen hour,

And make your life flow smooth.
Man 's but unfinish'd, till, by Hymen's ties,
His fweeter half lock'd in his bofom lies.

The general voice approves your choice,

All fentiments agree,

With fame allow'd, that fhe 's a good

Branch fprung from a right tree.

Long may the graces of her mind delight

Your foul, and long her beauties bless your fight! May the bright guard who love reward,

With man recoin'd again,

In offspring fair, make her their care,

In hours of joyful pain!

And