Then when I'm tired-and sae are ye, This may do-maun do, Sir, wi' them wha Maun please the great folk for a wamefu'; For me! sae laigh I needna bow, For, Lord be thankit, I can plough And when I dinna yoke a naig, Then, Lord be thankit, I can beg; Sae I shall say, and that's nae flatt'rin', It's just sic poet an' sic patron. The Poet, some guid angel help him, The Patron, (Sir, ye man forgie me, I readily and freely grant, He downa see a poor man want; What's no his ain he winna tak it, What ance he says he winna break it; Ought he can lend he'll no refuse't, Till aft his goodness is abused; And rascals whyles that do him wrang, Ev'n that, he does na mind it lang; As master, landlord, husband, father, He does na fail his part in either. But then, na thanks to him for a' that; Morality, thou deadly bane, Thy tens o' thousands thou hast slain ! No-stretch a point to catch a plack; Learn three mile pray'rs, an half-mile graces, I'll warrant then, ye're nae deceiver, O ye wha leave the springs of Calvin, Ye'll some day squeel in quaking terror! Your pardon, Sir, for this digression, I maist forgat my dedication; But when divinity comes cross me, My readers still are sure to lose me. So, Sir, ye see twas nae daft vapour, But I maturely thought it proper, When a' my works I did review, To dedicate them, Sir, to You: Because (ye need na tak it ill) I thought them something like yoursel'. Then patronise them wi' your favour, I'm baith dead-sweer, an' wretched ill o't; "May ne'er misfortune's gowling bark, Howl thro' the dwelling o' the Clerk! May ne'er his gen'rous, honest heart For that same gen'rous spirit smart! May K- -'s far honour'd name Lang beet his hymeneal flame, Till H -s at least a dizen, Are frae her nuptial labours risen : Five bonnie lasses round their table, And seven braw fellows, stout an' able To serve their king and country weel, By word, or pen, or pointed steel! May health and peace, with mutual rays, Shine on the evening o' his days: Till his wee curlie John's ier-oe, When ebbing life nae mair shall flow, The last, sad, mournful rites bestow!" I will not mind a lang conclusion, Wi' complimentary effusion; But whilst your wishes and endeavours Are blest with Fortune's smiles and favours, I am, dear Sir, with zeal most fervent, Your much indebted humble servant. But if (which Pow'rs above prevent!) That iron-hearted carl, Want, Attended in his grim advances, By sad mistakes, and black mischances, While hopes, and joys, and pleasures fly him, Thae winks and finger ends, I dread, Are notice takin' ! O wad some power the giftie gie us ADDRESS TO EDINBURGH. I. EDINA! Scotia's darling seat! All hail thy palaces and towers, Where once beneath a monarch's feet Sat legislation's sovereign powers! From marking wildly scatter'd flowers, As on the banks of Ayr I stray'd, And singing, lone, the lingering hours, I shelter in thy honour'd shade. II. Here wealth still swells the golden tide, As busy trade his labours plies; There architecture's noble pride Bids elegance and splendour rise; Here justice, from her native skies, High wields her balance and her rod; There learning, with his eagle eyes, Seeks science in her coy abode. III. Thy sons, EDINA, social, kind, With open arms the stranger hail; Their views enlarged, their liberal mind, Above the narrow, rural vale; Attentive still to sorrow's wail, Or modest merit's silent claim; And never may their sources fail! And never envy blot their name. IV. Thy daughters bright thy walks adorn! And own his work indeed divine ! V. There, watching high the least alarms, Thy rough rude fortress gleams afar: Like some bold veteran grey in arms, And mark'd with many a seamy scar: The pon'drous wall and massy bar, Grim-rising o'er the rugged rock : Have oft withstood assailing war, And oft repell'd th' invader's shock. VI. With awe-struck thought and pitying tears, Famed heroes, had their royal home Alas! how changed the times to come! Their royal name low in the dust; Their hapless race wild-wand'ring roam! Tho'rigid law cries out, 'twas just! VII. Wild beats my heart to trace your steps, Haply my sires have left their shed, And faced grim danger's loudest roar, Bold following where your fathers led! VIII. EDINA! Scotia's darling seat! All hail thy palaces and tow'rs, Where once beneath a monarch's feet Sat legislation's sov'reign pow'rs! From marking wildly scatter'd flowers, As on the banks of Ayr I stray'd, And singing, lone, the ling'ring hours, I shelter'd in thy honour'd shade. EPISTLE TO J. LAPRAIK. AN OLD SCOTTISH BARD, APRIL 1st, 1785. This freedom in an unknown frien' On fasten-een we had a rockin' At length we had a hearty yokin' There was ae sang amang the rest, It thirl'd the heart-strings thro' the breast, I've scarce heard ought described sae weel, What gen'rous, manly bosoms feel; Thought I, Can this be Pope, or Steele, Or Beattie's wark?' They tald me 'twas an odd kind chiel About Muirkirk. It pat me fidgin-fain to hear't, And sae about him there I spiert, |