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Wha twists his gruntle wi' a gluuch
Ye see your state wi' theirs compar'da O sour disdain,
And shudder at the niffer,
But cast a moment's fair regard,
What maks the mighty differ?
Discount what scant occasion gave Accept a Bardie's gratefu' thanks!
That purity ye pride in, When wanting thee, what tuneless cranks
And (what's aft mair than a'the lave)
Your better art o' hiding.
Gies now and then a wallop,
What ragings must his vein Scotland lament frae coast to coast !
That still eternal gallop:
Wi' wind and tide fair i' your tail,
Right on ye scud your sea-way;
But in the teeth o' baith to sail,
It maks an unco lee-way.
See social life and glee sit down, Wha mak the whisky stells their prize!
All joyous and withinking, Haud up thy han’, Deil! ance, twice, thrice!
Till, quite transmugrified, they're grown There, seize the blinkers !
Debauchery and drinking:
Oh would they stay to calculate
Th' eternal consequences;
Or your more dreaded hell to state,
D-mnation of expenses !
Ye high, exalted, virtuous dames,
Tied up in godly laces,
Before ye gie poor frailty names,
Suppose a change o'cases;
A treacherous inclination-
Ye're aiblins nae temptation,
Then gently scan your brother man, OR THE RIGIDLY RIGHTEOUS. Still gentler sister woman;
Though they may gang a kennin' wrang, “My son, these maxims make a rule, And lump them are thegither ;
To step aside is hunan : The Rigid Righteous is a fool,
One point must still be greatly dark, The Rigid Wise anither;
The moving why they do it:
And just as lamely can ye mark,
How far perhaps they rue it.
Who made the heart, 'tis He alone
Decidedly can try us,
He knows each chord its various tone,
Each springits various bias :
Then at the balance let's be mute,
We never can adjust it; Whase life is like a weel-gaun mill,
What's done we partly may compute, Supplied wi' store o' water,
But know not what's resisted. The heaped hapner's ebbing still,
And still the clap plays clatter. Hear me, ye venerable core,
Tan Sanson's Elrgy. As counsel for poor mortals, That frequent pass douce Wisdom's door “An honest man's the noblest work of God."
POPE. For glaiket Folly's portals; I, for their thoughtless, careless sakes, Has auld Kilmarnock seen the deil ? Would here propone defences,
Or great M'Kinlay (100) thrawn his heel? Their donsie tricks, their black mistakes, i Or Robertson (101) again grown weel, Their failings and mischances.
To preach and read ?
DESPONDENCY. " Na, waur than a'!” cries ilka chiel But yet he drew the mortal trigger Tam Samson's dead !
Wi' weel-aim'd heed; Kilmarnock lang may grunt and grane,
“L-d, five!” he cried, and owre did And sigh, and sob, and greet her lane,
staggerAnd cleed her bairns, man, wife, and wean,
Tam Samson's dead!
Ilk hoary hunter mourn'd a brither;
Ilk sportsman youth bemoan'd a father;
You auld grey stane, amang the heather, The brethren o' the mystic level
Marks out his head, May hing their head in woefu' bevel,
Whare Burns has wrote, in rhyming blether, While by their nose the tears will revel,
Tam Samson's dead!
There now he lies, in lasting rest;
Some spitefu' muirfowl bigs her nest, When winter muffles up his cloak,
To hatch and breed; And binds the mire like a rock;
Alas! nae mair he'll them molest!
Tam Samson's dead !
When August winds the heather wave,
And sportsnien wander by yon grave,
Three volleys let his mem'ry crare
O pouther and lead, To guard, or draw, or wick a bore,
Till echoe answer frae her cave,
Tam Samson's dead!
Heav'n rest his saul, whare'er he be!
He had twa fants, or inaybe three, Now safe the stately sawmont sail,
Yet what remead ?
Tam Samson's dead!
Tam Samson's weel worn clay here lies, Rejoice, ye birring paitricks a';
Ye canting zealots spare him ! Ye cootie noorcocks, crousely craw;
If honest worth in heaven rise,
Ye'll mend or ye win near him.
Go, Fame, and canter like a filly
Thro'e the streets and neuks o' Killie (102), Saw him in shootin' graith adorn'd,
Tell ev'ry social, honest billy
To cease his grievin',
For yet, unskaith'd by death's gleg gullie, But, och! he gaed and ne'er return'd!.
Tam Samson's livin' (103)
OPPRESS'd with grief, oppress'd with care, Tam Samson's dead!
A burden more than I can bear, Owre many a weary hay he limpit,
I set me down and sigh; And aye the tither shot he thumpit,
Oh life! thou art a galling load.
Along a rough, a weary road,
To wretches such as I!
What sick’ning scenes appear!
Still caring, despairing,
Must be my bitter doom;
But with the closing tomb !
No other view regard !
They bring their own reward :
Unfitted with an aim,
Forget each grief and pain;
Find every prospect vain.
Within his humble cell,
Beside his crystal well!
By unfrequented streamı,
His thoughts to heav'n on high,
He views the solemn sky.
Less fit to play the part;
With self-respecting art:
Which I too keenly taste,
Or human love or hate,
At perfidy ingrate!
To care, to guilt unknown!
Of others or my own!
Like linnets in the bush,
That active man engage!
Of dim declining age!
The Cafter's Saturday light. INSCRIBED TO ROBERT AIKIN, ESQ. (104) " Let not ambition mock their useful toil,
Their homely joys and destiny obscure; Nor grandeur hear, with a disdainful smile. The short and simple annals of the poor."
(105)-GRAY. My loved, my honour'd, much respected
friend, No mercenary bard his homage pays : With honest pride I scorn each selfish end:
(praise : My dearest meed, a friend's esteem and To you I sing, in simple Scottish lays, The lowly train in life's sequesterd scene;
(ways; The native feelings strong, the guileless What Aitken in a cottage would have been;
[there, I ween. Ah! tho' his worth unknown, far happier November chvill blaws loud wi' angry sough;
[close; The shortning winter-day is near a The miry beasts retreating frae the pleugh;
repose : The black’ning trains o’craws to their The toil-worn Cotter frae his labour goes,
This night his weekly moil is at an end, Collects his spailes, his mattocks, and his hoes,
[spend, Hoping the morn in ease and rest to And weary, o'er the moor, his course does
hameward bend, At length his lonely cot appears in view,
Beneath the sleiter of an aged tree;
his toil. And makes him quite forget his labour and Belyve, the elder bairns come drapping in,
At service out amang the farmers roun', Some ca’ the pleugh, some herd, some
tentie rin A cannie errand to a neibor town; Their eldest hope, their Jenny, woman
grown, In youthfu' bloom, love sparklin' in her Comes hame, perhaps, to show a bra' new
gown, Or deposit her sair-won penny fee, To help her parents dear, if they in hard.
THE COTTER’S SATURDAY NIGHT.
With joy unfeign'd brothers and sisters! I've paced much this weary, mortal round, meet,
spiers : And sage experience bids me this deAnd each for other's weelfare kindly
(spare, The social hours, swift-wing'd, unnotic'd “If Heaven a draught of heavenly pleasure fleet;
[hears; One cordial in this melancholy vale, Each tells the uncos that he sees or 'Tis when a youthful, loving, modest pair The parents, partial, eye their hopeful In other's arms breathe out the tender years;
[the ev’ning gale." Anticipation forward points the view, Beneath the milk-white Thorn that scents The mother, wi' her needle and her shears,
Is there, in human form, that bears a heart, Gars auld claes look amaist as weel's
A wretch! a villain! lost to love and the new;
truth! The father mixes a' wi' admonition due.
That can, with studied, sly, ensnaring art,
Betray sweet Jenny's unsuspecting Their master's and their mistress's com
Curse on his perjur'd arts ! dissembling The younkers a' are warned to obey;
Are honour, virtue, conscience, all exil'd? And mind their labours wi' an eydent
Is there no pity, no relenting ruth, hand,
Points to the parents fondling o'er their And ne'er, tho' out o' sight, to jauk or
[traction wild ? "And oh! be sure to fear the Lord alway!
Then paints the ruin'd maid, and their disAnd mind your duty, duly, morn and night!
But now the supper crowns their simple Lest in temptation's path ye gang astray,
[food; Implore His counsel and assisting
The halesome parritch, chief of Scotia's might:
The soupe their only hawkie does afford, They never sought in vain that sought the
That 'yont the hallan snugly chows her cood:
The dame brings forth, in complimental But, hark ! a rap comes gently to the
To grace the lad, her weel-hain'd kebdoor,
same, Jenny wha kens the meaning Ö the
And aft he's prest, and aft he ca's it guid; Tells how a neibor lad cam o'er the moor, To do some errands, and convoy her
The frugal wifie, garrulous, will tell,
How 'twas a towmond auld, sin' lint was hame. The wily mother sees the conscious flame
i' the bell. Sparkle in Jenny's e'e, and flush her The cheerfu' supper done, wi' serious face, cheek.
They,round the ingle, form a circle wide; Wi' heart-struck anxious care, inquires his
The sire turns o'er, with patriarchal grace, While Jenny hafflins is afraid to speak;
The big ha'-bible, ance his father's pride; eel pleas'd the mother hears it's nae wild His bonnet rev'rently is laid aside, worthless rake.
His lyart haffets wearing thin and bare;
Those strains that once did sweet in Zion Wi' kindly welcome, Jenny brings him
He wales a portion with judicious care; A strappin youth; he taks the mether's | And “Let us worship GOD!” he says, with Blithe Jenny sees the visit's 110 ill ta'en :
solemn air. The father cracks of horses, pleughs, They chant their artless notes in simple and kye.
[aim : The youngster's artless heart o'erflows wi' They tune their hearts, by far the noblest But blate and lathefu', scarce can weel Perhaps Dundee's wild-warbling measures behave;
[name, The mother, wi' a woman's wiles. carı Or plaintive Martyrs, worthy of the What makes the youth sae bashfu' an' Or noble Elgin beets the heaven-ward sae grave;
flame, Weel pleas’d to think her bairn's respected The sweetest far of Scotia’s holy lays: like the lave.
Compar'd with these, Italian trills are tame :
[raise; Oh happy love ! --where love like this is The tickld ear no heart-felt raptures found!
[compare! Nae unison hae they with our Creator's Oh heart-felt raptures! bliss beyond praise.
Then kne KING, father, atton triun days:
The priest-like father reads the sacred for them and for their little ones provide ; page
[high ; | But, chiefly, in their hearts with grace divine How Abram was the friend of God on preside. Or, Moses bade eternal warfare wage With Amalek's ungracious progeny ;
From scenes like these old Scotia’s grar.Or how the royal bard did groaning lie
sabroad: Beneath the stroke of Heaven's avenging |
That makes her lov'd at home, rever'd
Princes and lords are but the breath of ire;
kings, Or Job's pathetic plaint, and wailing cry;
“An honest man's the noblest work of Or rapt Isaiah's wild, seraphic fire;
And certes, in fair virtue's heav'nly road, Or other holy seers that tune the sacred lyre.
The cottage leaves the palace far behind; Perhaps the Christian volume is the What is a lordling's pomp?--a cumbrous theme(shed;
[kind How guiltless blood for guilty man was Disguising oft the wretch of human How He, who bore in Heaven the second studied in arts of hell, in wickedness refin'd! name,
Oh Scotia ! my dear, my native soil!
For whom my warmest wish to Heaven How his first followers and servants sped,
is sent! The precepts sage they wrote to many a
Long may thy hardy sons of rustic toil, land:
Be blest with health, and peace, and How he, who lone in Patmos banished,
sweet content! Saw in the sun a mighty angel stand;
And oh! may Heaven their simple lives And heard great Bab'lon's doom pronounced
From luxury's contagion, weak and vile! by Heaven's conımand.
Then, howe'er crowns and coronets be Then kneeling down to HEAVEN'S ETER rent, NAL KING,
A virtuous populace may rise the while, The saint, the father, and the husband And stand a wall of fire around their muchHope “springs exulting on triumphant lov'd isle. wing,” (106)
[days: That thus they all shall meet in future
Oh Thou! who pour'd the patriotic tide
That strcan'd through Wallace's unThere ever bask in uncreated rays,
daunted heart, No more to sigh, or shed the bitter tear,
Who dar'd to nobly stem tyrannic pride, Together hymning their Creator's praise,
Or nobly die the second glorious part, In such society, yet still more dear;
(The patriot's God, peculiarly thou art, While circling time moves round in an eter
His friend, inspirer, guardian, and renal sphere.
ward !) Compar’d with this, how poor Religion's Oh never, never, Scotia's realm desert; pride,
But still the patriot, and the patriot In all the pomp of method, and of art,
[guard! When men display to congregations wide, In bright succession raise, her ornament and
Devotion's ev'ry grace, except the heart!
Ti a Flunntain Daisy.
[enrol. WEE, modest, crimson-tipped flow'r, And in his book of life the inmates poor | Thou's met me in an evil hour; Then homeward all take off their sey'ral | For I maun crush amang the stoure way;
Thy slender stem: The youngling cottagers retire to rest: To spare thee now is past my pow'r. The parent-pair their secret homage pay,
Thou bonnie gem. And proffer up to Heaven the warm re- Alas! it's no thy neitor sweet, quest,
[nest, The bonnie lark, companion meet, That HE, who stills the raven's clam'rous Bending thee 'mang the dewy weet! And decks the lily fair in flow'ry pride,
Wi' speckI'd breast, Would, in the way his wisdom sees the When up-ward-springing, blythe, to greet best,
The purpling east.