To the Right Honourable, The Lord GRAY, upon his sending me Mr.
RAMSAY's Poems.
FARE fa' your Lordship's canny Hand,
That ga' MONORGON, on Demand,
Bright ALLAN's first Collections,
Whilk serv'd me as a Wing to fly
Unto APOLLO's Clemency,
For his divine Directions.
I'll thank your LORDSHIP heartilie,
In my ain Scotish Cant ;
For that bra' Help it made to me,
I wish you never want
A plainty of dainty
Provisions ev'ry Day;
I'll bless you, and wish you
What here I winna' say.
Of your bra' Dwelling ' gainst the Sun,
Near where the gentle TAY doth run,
May your Posterity
Be Heirs, till Time shall be no more ;
And as they dy, convey'd to Glore,
To reign eternally.
As for YOURSEL, WIFE, and ilk CHILD,
And a' your KITH and KIN,
May ne'er your Virtues be defil'd,
But still more Honour win.
Incline then, to shine then
Aboon the rambling Crew,
That haste ay, to waste ay
Their ' States. My Lord, adieu.
LOVE's CURE.
Dool fell the Swain that's mang'd wi' Love !
He goves for Comfort fra' above ;
But CUPID, and hard hearted Jove,
Blink na' Relief :
And a' his Gaunts and Gapes but prove
Milk to his Grief.
If fome auld Swinger snap to speak
Of Pink-ey'd Queans, he gives a Squeek ;
My Heart fu' fair, needs that blyth Eek,
To mend my Dool :
If Cyprus Dame had up her Cleek,
I'll be her Tool.
The meikle Trake come o'er their Snouts
That laugh at winsome kissing Pouts,
Wha look like Sheep at merry Bouts,
And steal a Smile :
Lang syne they had their carlish Doubts
And sighing While.
When JEANIE geakes and scorns my Tale,
And winna' yield for Prins or Ale,
That Day my Tripes will had na Kail ;
Oh ! Storm-sick then :
But if she gauses, I think her leal,
And wow I'm fain.
The snapsy Karles grain in Ease ;
They sleep and eat when e'er they please ;
And has their Lucky to keep their Clease
Baith tight and clean :
But we, like waff Fok, speal the Braes,
Love daft and keen.
Ilk merry Look and wally Tafte,
Gi'es Health unto the gamesome Jest ;
And still wi' something they are blest,
I winna say,
For fear some Humour bang my Breast,
That winna lay.
Heall be their Gab that JEANIE praise,
And tells her o' my bonny Plays ;
Perhaps she'll briss to sic fine Days
Wi' VENUS' Leave :
Then I'll be vex'd wi' na mae Nays,
Nor restless live.
O SANNY syne will heartsome be,
And for lang Groans gouf up, Ti hi ;
E'n not a Jove so fond as he
Wi's JUNO's Charms ;
When I shall fidge so devoutlie
Busk'd in her Arms.
My Heart will Midge-like dance and reel,
And nouther fear a Cow nor Deel,
But wallop, as MEG i'the Skeel,
In jolly Nature ;
And look as brisk as fil'd up Steel,
Upo' the Matter.
But if a Mercy, Things mis-gae,
I'll ramble like a Lybean Rae ;
That flees theWood, scorns Hay and Strae ;
My Planets wyt,
The last Redress, Lucadea's Brae,
Oh! hard Respite.
SONG III.
TIMBER STAIRS.
O PEGGY, dinna say me na ;
But grant to me the Treasure
Of Love's Return ; 'tis unka bra',
When ilka Thing yields Pleasure.
Nae Pleasure is like Love's Return ;
Dear PEGGY, grant it to me:
Nae mare wi' coy Slighting spurn,
When I my Love do show thee.
The Forest Birds Example show,
My handsome bonny Lassy,
That Lovers should not single go ;
Therefore be nae mare saucy ;
But yield unto my fond Desire,
My dearest charming Jewel,
And quench the Flame of CUPID's Fire,
That burns me up like Fuel.
Thy Face fo beautiful and gay,
Engageth me to love thee ;
Thou'rt sweeter than the Flow'rs in May ;
There's none I'll prize above thee :
Thy Wit shin'd so into my Eyes,
Ábove all human Creatures,
That CUPID caught me, as a Prize,
Beholding thy fine Features.
The Ways of Virtue, PEGGY, trust,
I will observe fu' bralie ;
I'll shun the Steps of VENUS' Lust,
When others wi them dallie.
Up Stairs, down Stairs,
Timber Stairs fear me ;
I prayyou, drap your foolish Fears,
Dear PEGGY, and come near me.
SONG IV.
The poor Prentice.
"I AM a poor Prentice, bound frae all Pleasure ;
" Fain wad I see my Love, if I had Leisure. "
Sleeping and waking, her Image presents me ;
O she is my Pleasure, and yet the torments me.
Blind CUPID did challenge, in Battle to field me ;
I thought nothing of it, but yet I must yield me.
And now, as a Captive , his Bondage I'm under ;
Of all my Resistence he did me quite plunder.
But, if mydear Jewel wad cast away Scorn,
And not leave me comfortless , like one forlorn,
The Bondage I'm under wad be a full Pleasure,
For that my dear JENNY has Charms out of Measure.
O PHOEBE assist me, by shining most clearly,
When I go to the Lass I love so dearly.
By Day, as a Captive, my Master I'm serving ;
And sometimes, wanting Food, I'm almost starving.
Yet all is a Pleasure ; I count it a fine Life
To gain that fine Creature to be my ain Wife.
Her Beauty and Wit ! her Lips sweet as Honey ;
When dreaming, I cry out, My Love fhe is bonny.
I'll rifle her Charms yet, when I'm at Freedom ;
And be to her constant, or Fates strike me dumb.
The happiest of Creatures, I will be surely,
In her Arms when I ly snug and securely.
SONG X.
O'er the Muir to Meggy.
AND I'll o'er the Muir to MEGGIE ;
Her Smiles stir up my Passion ;
All other Maids, tho' ne'er so fine,
I'll court but for the Fashion.
When I'm o'ercome wi' Care or Grief,
Or when a Cross torments me,
Her smiling Face yields me Relief,
And presently contents me.
Her lovely Looks chear up my Heart,
And gars me look ay canty ;
My vital Life will soon depart,
Dear MEGGIE, gin I want thee.
Sae dinna break my tender Heart,
By your unconstant Dealing ;
Your Absence proves a grieving Smart,
And hads my Heart ay failing.
My Heart lies in her Bosom fair ;
I have it not in keeping ;
Ilk Night I have for her a Care,
And dreams of her when sleeping .
Among the Crowd of Nymphs I gaze,
With Fondness, till I spy her ;
All my Affections turn a Blaze,
The Instant that I eye her.
The pleasant Tune delights my Ear,
Call'd, O'er the Muir to MEGGIE ;
Her very Name gars me forbear
Tolet my Thoughts avaguing.
Let ilk a Lad aft change his Love,
For me I'll still be loyal,
I never shall my Mind remove,
Without her flat Denial.
SONG XII.
The Leacher's Lament.
To the Tune of, JOHN ANDERSON my Jo.
Ilk wanton Wench and merry Swain,
That likes to lilt and sing,
And walk about the pleasant Plain
In Time of VER the Spring,
If unto VENUs ye're inclin'd,
Chuse Places that's remote ;
To none but one reveal thy Mind,
Or else you are a Sot.
When I was in my Youth, my Lads,
I had nae Cross nor Care ;
I laught at feckless careless Blades,
And courted ay the Fair.
My Love and I did often ly
Where pleasant Flow'rs did grow ;
We stood na' on't the Game to try,
When it came in our Row.
At laat, I tauld my Mind to twa,
Whilk bred me meikle Strife ;
When they at Variance did fa',
It griev'd me to the Life.
Ilk ane coost up another's Wrang,
That scandaliz'd me so,
That gar'd me soon forget to gang
Where pleasant Flow'rs did grow.
But now my Vitals are decay'd,
And runkled is my Brow ;
Small Frights they make me soon afraid ;
My Reins are stiff, I trow.
The Rashness of my Youth, I find,
Adds Twenty to my Age:,
The pleasant Hours of VENUs kind,
Kills moe than MARS in Rage.
SONG XIII.
The Am'rous Shepherd.
Tune, Wat ye wha I met Yestreen.
NA, KATIE winna' look fae low,
As notice me upo' the Green;
Haith I am doild because 'tis so,
That she is high and I am mean.
But, if the Fates wad favour me,
And turn her to a lower Guise,
Or make me rich, that I might be
An equal Match to my dear Prize.
With Confidence I then wad fly
And court my bonny KATIE syne ;
No mortal Monarch's State wad I'
Think half so bleft as that of mine.
Tho' I had a' the World wide
At my ain Government to stand,
Nane but my KATIE should be Bride,
Or join with me in HYMEN'S Band.
SONG XVIII.
The Auld Goodman.
ONE Morning of May, by Light of the Day,
As I was was walking over over the Lee, the
A little near by, I heard a Man cry,
Alas ! alas ! what will I do ?
My Wife she is proud , and clamours ay loud ;
I canna' content her, do what I can :
She lends me a Gouf, and tells me I'm douf,
I'll ne'er be like her last Goodman.
Oh ! had I liv'd single, altho' with a Pingle,
I had preserv'd my Chastitie ;
I would have liv'd quiet, altho' sober Diet
Had been my Lot continuallie.
But now, as a Slave, my Noddle to save,
I lout and lour as well's I can ;
While I'm confus'd, and thus abus'd ,
'Cause I'm no like her last Goodman.
Oh! had the been young, I might her vile Tongue,
In Process of Time have had reclaim'd,
And made her grow better ; but of her ill Nature,
When we were marry'd, I never dream'd.
But great Jove himsel, knows now, as in Hell,
I belth out Oaths, and curfe and ban,
When to it I'm surdert, and almoft murder'd,.
'Cause I'm no like her last Goodman.
May never poor Lad meet wi' sik a bad
And crossful Wife as I have done ;
My Life is a Burden while I'm wi' the Lurden ;
Come Death, and haste, and fly, and run,
And cut my Life's Thread, in my extreme Need,
And carry me safely to the Plain
That Jove has assign'd for Comfort of Mind,
Where Folk like me forget their Pain.
Her REPLY.
YOU blame your Wife for your poor Life;
You Shame light upon your Cawf-like Face,
That plaints on me, when I from thee
Scarce in three Months obtain a Kiss.
You gaunt and groan, in Slumber you moan ;
No active Spirit remains in thee ;
Whilk gars me cry out, and lend thee a Rout,
You filly John Snool, a Plague to me.
You rant and sport 'mong your Confort,
And makes a Jest of me your Wife,
And meikle good Gear, whilk, both late and air,
My Husband wan during his Life,
You spend ; ' tis seen, then, late at Een,
You home-ward stagger as you can,
And tumbles to Bed, where any young Maid
May ly unknown, you Cawf-like Man.
You pray that Death would cut your Breath ;
Death scarcely thinks you worth his Pains
To ware his Dart on your dull Heart ;
But, if he would, he'd loose my Chains,
Then wou'd I be quot of you a dead Sot
That yields me no Pleasure, do what I can :
His Saul be at Reft ; I think I was blest
When living was my auld Goodman.
CHRIST'S KIRK on the GREEN.
CANTO IV.
When Phoebus, wi' his gauden Beams,
Bang'd in the Light of Day,
And glittering on the Silder Streams
That thro' the Valleys stray,
The couthy Carles, frae their Dreams,
Began to rax, and say,
Up drousy Herds ; Herds PHOEBUS blames
That made so short a Stay
Away that Day.
By that Time Bells for Mass did clink
O'er a' the Nation round ;
Wives had tane out their Sunday's Wink
That Morning, lang and found :
Wi' Grains and Raxing ' gan to blink,
And vizzy a' Things round,
Gat up and gard the Kettles chink ;
For Breakfast busy bound
Wi' Speed that Day.
Naething was seen twa Days afore
At Christ Kirk on the Green,
But Ravelings and Battles sore,
And Dancing hard and keen.
The Carles did baith rant and roar,
And delt some Knoits between
Hands ; Lads their Lasses did implore,
Greeting wi' baith their Een
For Love that Day
The Bride was mild as any Lamb
Upo' that Morning- Tide ;
And Love the Bridegroom did enflame ;
His Passions wadna' hide.
Then STEEN, a Man of Courage, came
To kirk Bridegroom and Bride ;
LAWRIE, ANDREW, DICK and TAM,
Came banging in at's Side
Bedeen that Day.
Then Lads and Lasses, mony ane,
Be that Time was comein ;
The eldren Men, sat down their lane
To wet their Throats within.
They gat a Cheese that weigh'd twa Stane,
I wat it was na' thin ;
The Lads bra' Knives, hasted wi' Bane,
Could hardly pierce the Skin
Of it that Day.
Quoth Dick, Gin I had here my Ax,
( For I trow it would take it )
I would indent, at three good Strakes,
My Bladder, I should break it.
Said HUTCHON, If your Knives inlakes,
MyDurk, let na' Man lake it,
Will soon supply ; and, for your Sakes,
Assunder I shall hack it
In Sheeds this Day.
They all began to chew the Cheese,
And drink about wi' Speed ;
Wi' many grievous Girn and Squeese,
The auld Folk shook their Head,
And ban'd their Teeth that wadna' bruise,
That they might safter feed.
Some bit their Tongues, until their Eyes
Sent out their Springs for Greed,
Or Haste that Day.
Syne pauky STEEN drank to the Bride,
Come, Lass, your hanson Kelder ;
For ROGER fair Confession made
Your Ma't was i' the Melder.
At last, her Blushes wadna' hide ;
The Lasses speer'd what ail'd her ;
She in a Swarff fell Cheek-aside ;
Auld MAUSE she ran and held her
Upright that Day.
Ha, quo' the Wives, my Liken, ken,
Or forty Ouks be past,
"Twill kith you ha' been near the Men,
And VENUS' Laws embrac❜d.
I'll warrant we were a' right fain,
And ween'd ourselves fu' blest ;
When we got Houses of our ain,
The Pleasures we possess'd
Were fine that Day.
The Bells a triple Warning ga' ;
Folk to the Kirk saft flocked ;
The dowser Sort began to say,
I trow we've o'er lang joaked.
Come, drink and eat, and let's away ;
Some were, thro' Haste, ha'f chocked ;
Some clap'd their Backs, cry'd wall-a-day,
While unchew'd Bites they bocked
Far aff that Day's
Ilk Man and Wife, ilk Lad and Lass,
Well buckled i̇' their Claes ;
A jolly Company there was,
When to their Feet they raise.
Fu' hansomely to Kirk they pass,
Well rank'd in their Degrees ;
To flee the Fair nane was fae fa'se,
Sae fond were they to please
The Bride that Day.
The auld Men, at their civil Crack,
Went on afore the rest ;
The Bridegroom he came at their Back ;
The Bride she followed fast ;
The Lads their Lasses Hands did ta'k,
Love's Passions fae them prest ;
Abonny Sight to see them wa'k
In Gray and Tartan drest,
All gay that Day
By Dinner-time the Mass was done ;
They hame-ward high'd wi' Speed
DICK, scarce well set, cry'd for a Spoon ;
It was his End to feed .
Then on a Board they set fu' soon,
And syne brought in, for their Disjoon,
Some Barley Broth and Bread ;
Auld Brucky's Feet and Head,
Well sung that Day.
Tho' some wi' Nevvels had sare Snouts,
A' Bygones were neglected ;
Fell fresh to birle, and drink like Trouts,
Nae Poortoth they suspected.
Ilk ane forga' their former Routs,
New 'Greements they erected ;
Good Ale and Usque ga'd about,
In Healths, as they respected
Their Friends that Day.
The Sutor said, Here's to the Health
Of thir new married Couple ;
I wish them meikle Joy and Wealth,
Lang, clever, strong and souple.
Their Pleasure now is without Stealth ;
The Bridegroom winna' scrouple
To tell his Bosom-Friend what ail'th
Him, tho' he ta'k the Ripple
On her some Day
Wives, wi' the Drink began to tattle
About the Bridal- Day,
How Dancing turned to a Battle,
How JACK began the Fray ;
How Arrows flew, and Clubs did rattle,
And some ha'f feld there lay ;
HOW BESSIE bald, came, wi'a Brattle,
Wi' her Knife to geld or slay
Them fast that Day.
Some said TAM TAYLOR lay Stane still,
Till a ' the Fray was done ;
To rin and redd he had na' Will ;
He thought it was oe'r foon.
The Minstrel fairly tint his Skill,
For he fell thro' ilk Tune ;
Ran in atween twa Wains, and full
He pish'd his ain twa Shoon,
For Fear that Day.
( 77 )
The cou'rdly Carles, burnt for Shame,
To hear how they had acted ;
The Miller's Wife ga' them the Blame
Her Husbaud was sae hacked.
Then spake up DICK, I fear, good Dames,
Wi' Drink your Harns are cracked ;
Mens Characters, and they frae Hame,
Some mare should be respected,
By you this Day.
TAM LUTER said, DICK had the wyte,
By any in the Town,
For Fighting was na' his Delight,
Till a' the lave were done.
Then DICK, wi' Anger and Despite,
Cry'd, Let me to the Lown ;
You Piper Dog, I say be quiet,
Or I shall take you down,
Belyve this Day.
Whisht, quoth the Millar, what's a' this ?
Are Cowards begun to flyte ?
A bonny Story, throth, it is
To see your girning Spite :
To blast and brawl ye canna' miss,
And kens not wha's to wyte ;
But, gin you winna' be at Peace,
Ye'ss get a Bane to bite
Upon some Day.
Come, quo' the Smith , Let's drinkabout,
The Bride's Health maun gae round ;
The Bridegroom's niest, there is na' Doubt,
Maun u'most ay be found.
Quoth a' , the Smith is unko stout,
And his Purse Hingers bound ;
But, ere we part, we's ripe it out,
And gar him pay fu' sound,
For's Cracks this Day.
Bridegroom and Bride are costly Names;
When married Folk's ance kirked,
They need na mare be fash'd wi' them ;
The Smith wants to be jirked.
Come, let us here a Court proclaim,
And fine him as he's worked ;
With that he thought black burning Shame,
And down his Head he lurked
Fu' low that Day.
Had up your Head, auld HuTCHEN cry'd,
You silly simple Sot ;
What? Like a Coward, your Manhood hide,
Sae for a poor gray Groat.
Your Wife sae bald, and fu' of Pride,
She wears the Breeks, I wot ;
She'll soundly buff you Back and Side ;
I wish she spare your Throat
Uncut this Day
When a' was done, young ROGER he
Cry'd, Fill me up a Gill ;
To my frank Neighbours heartsomelie
I'll drink wi' haill good Will.
The Smith and his thrawn Wife maun ' gree,
Tho' they scauld ne'er fae ill ;
Bairns unborn 'bout them and me
Will crack when at the Ale,
Ana laugh some Day.
A LETTER to J.---- B.---- an old Batchelor, perswading him to marry.
IN frosty Weather Sheets are cauld,
That gars Folk closs together fauld.
In spite of ilka northern Blast,
The Heat of Man and Wife shall last.
But single Lads, like you and me,
Maun slide our Sarks down o'er our Knee ;
And heat the tae Foot wi' the other:
What can we do in Winter Weather ?
But when the Spring and Summer comes,
When Midgies dance, and Ev' - cloke bums,
Then Man and Wife in Bed grows warm ;
The Sweat and Heat it does them harm.
So troth, my Friend, I'm at a Varry,
Whether to keep free, or marry.
But yet I have devis'd a Wile,
The Heat of Summer to beguile ;
That is, to keep Claes aff the Bed,
Until the Summer Heat be fled.
And when the Autumnal Cald comes in,
To hap the Bed we'll then begin.
Sae gin I had as many Years
As on your Fore- head nowappears,
Some comely Fair-one, wi'er Intisements,
Would cause me cast off all Advisements,
And fairly venture on the Ty
Of Marriage ; purposely that I
Frae all Reproaches should go free,
And wanton Womens Calumnie.
For they will taunt, and jeer and joak,
And ca' you Capon, not a Cock ;
An auld young Man that canna' love ;
A silly Fool, as chast's a Dove ;
Row'd in the Brottlet when first seen ,
And chiefly lo'es his Cog sincesyne.
With many such Reproaches more,
Lasses gi' Lads that they abhore.
Sae take a Heart, and learn to woo',
That Lasses may speak well of you.
Brush up your Baird, goose out each Lirk,
And gi' some Change to K____'s Kirk
Do as your Father did, and strive
To keep the Name of B_____ CE alive,
Sure there is great Delight in Wooing,
'Tis sik an ancient Way of doing :
For, since auld ADAM first was made,
His Bairns , till now, have us'd the Trade.
Therefore, my Friend, I'd have you try
What Pleasure's in't, and sae shall I..
Wedlock's a divine Institution ;
Sae let us, with one Resolution,
Obey that sacred old Command'
That GOD in Paradise gave Man.
Leave Parents, Friends, and a' your Kin,
Some bonny Lassie's Love to win.
And cleave to her for Life to live ;
That will your sunken Sp'rits revive.
Farewel, my Friend ; gin you be wise,
You winna' flight my young Advice.
I own indeed, it is but bruckle,
Yet gi'en in Love. Your's, SANDY NICOL.
An EPISTLE to Mr. ALLAN RAMSAY, relating a faint Prospect of the Carse of GOWRIE.
SIR,
FAM'D ALLAN, Chief of POETS Clan ;
Of true Scots Fraises haill Goodman,
Whether your Muse mounts like a Swan
On high Intent,
Or ' mangst the Shepherds leads the Van
Through Dale or Bent,
If you'd be pleas'd so low to lout,
And read my poor Epistle out,
I'll lend my Genius a fare Rout,
But and describe
The Carfe of GOWRIE round about,
A bonny Glibe.
Between St. JOHNSTON and DUNDEE,
Where TAY doth twinkle to the Sea,
Like to an Haugh closs by its Bree,
Well clade wi' Flow'rs,
With many fine and fruitful Tree
Round Shepherds Bowers.
Here Shepherds live in canty Bowers,
Where's Store of Fruit and Garden Flowers,
Waiting APOLLO's watery Showers,
To gar them grow;
They keep the rest frae Quarrel- Clowers
And broken Pow.
CHARLIE LYON and JOHNY GRAY,
They bear the Bell on bonny TAY,
And keep their Flocks from ga'n aftray
Wi' fonfy Tykes ;
Have Bughts where Wenches milk them may
Of bra' Stane-Dikes.
They whistle and sing with canty Tone ;
O' their Shepherdesses they are fon',
And feeds on Milk, hot frae the Loan,
Frae Ky and Sheep ;
Well bigged Bowers of polish'd Stone Where they do fleep
On Beds of Down that is most fine,
Wheretheir fast Arms around doth twine
About their Loves, wha bright doth shine,
Their Grace and Form appears divine ,
And unca bra';
Baith ane and a'.
Beaut'ous SUSANNA was nae Compair ;
Nor yet the Trojan HELEN fair,
Which brought that City meikle Care Wi'er Beauty bright ;
Our SHEPHERDS has a greater Share
For their Delight.
No Goddesses that haunt the Groves,
Can vie with these our Shepherds Loves.
What altho' my Fancy roves,
On Things divine ?
There's no terrestial Thing that moves,
Appears to Shine Like
Like our brave HELEN and SUSANNA :
The Gods may a' cry out HOSANNA,
And fay, forsooth, indeed we maun a'
More than unto fair DIANA,
Pay our Respect,
Without Neglect.
Like ABIGAEL, King DAVID's Wife,
They drown out a' their Husbands Strife,
Wi' Counsel, Contentment to the Life
Humility wi' them is rife,
They to them gi' ;
For ought I see.
Steep rising Hills on the north Side,
From Frosts and Winds the Harvest hide ;
Rich Harvests, waving like the Tyde,
On proving Plain
Of TAY; sweet TAY, St. JOHNSTOUN's Pride,
And Merchants Gain.
Pray, Sir, accept your Servant humble ;
Thot binna' right, oh ! dinna' grumble ;
It winna' your bra' Verses drumble To look upon it ;
Ye'll say the Truth, to ca' me Bumble :
And, for my Sonnet,
I canna' say ' tis worth appearing
Afore your Face, or in your Hearing ;
For senseless Babbles are nae Jeering,
But an Offence :
Sae it is hardly worth your speering For sik Non-sense.
Yet, nae great Ferly tho' it be
Plain Buff, wha wad consider me ;
For, troth, I'll tell you, but a Lie,
I'm no Book - lear'd ;
Yet I prefume to fpeak with thee ;
But, oh ! I'm fear'd.
My ANSWER.
I'M one of ancient ADAM's Race,
Tho' in the lowest Rank and Place
Dame Nature she has set me ;
Yet Heav'n gae me a spacious Mind,
Beyond a hantle o' my Kind ;
The rural Muses too, I find,
Do fondly daut and pett me.
For, many Time, when I thought lang,
THALIA brought a pastoral Sang,
And bade me chear my Heart,
And let the World ken that we
Regard not Learning's high Degree ;
But unto Poets naturallie
Our Secret we impart.
My Station, tho' ' tis poor and mean,
Yet for no higher Pitch I green,
Than Providence allows ;
But only, Sir, that I'm inclin'd ,
If Fortune she would be fo kind )
To see my Verse in Print ; my Mind
Ambitiously pursues.
An EPISTLE to Mr. ALLAN RAMSAY.
SIR,
YOUR Name and Fame has spread sae far off,
I doubt ' tis mare than I'm a ware of;
For troth, Sir, I maun tell ye,
Your Head's sae fu' of canty Tales,
That scoups o'er many Muirs and Dales,
Likewise in ilka Valley,
That I'm amaist made to sing dumb,
And break my Quill asunder ;
And naething say, but maunt and mum,
When you begin to thunder
Out mony Things, and bonny Things,
That's ilka ane's Delight,
That ae Man, nor nae Man,
Your canty Tales can Slight ;
But praise them ay for wally Droll ;
He's but a Fool that will control
Your witty wanton Verse ;
For a' the Poets o' the Nation
May come unto your Coronation,
And ay your Praise rehearse.
Some with Lawrel, Some with Bays,
To crown you LAAWRIAT,
And Say, Haith ALLAN hath bright Rays
That Shine aboon our Pat.
Our Quills a', and Wills a',
Can never reach so far ;
He thinks ay, and blinks ay,
Bright as the clearest Star.
When I came hame, ilk ane came speering,
I scarcely cou'd gi' them an Hearing,
They were sae unca busie.
Said they, O SANDY, saw you ALLAN,
And was you in within his Dwelling ?
Pray tell us what like is he ?
Said I , My Memory is nae meikle,
To tell you a' his Marks ;
Read's Epistle to's Friend ARBRUCKLE,
Set down amang his Warks :
He shaws a' his Laws a',
And Principles ilk ane ;
His Stature and Nature,
He tells it till Amen.
I would be unca well content,
To see my Writings put in Print,
And syne had them to read.
I pray you, send me Word about it
For ilk ane says, they deadly doubt it,
That ever they will be it.
Yet I do bid them thole a While,
Till ance the Spring come in ;
They'll gar ye a' baith laugh and smile,
Till Water your Eyes blin.
An EPISTLE to a Friend newly married, against the Will of his Wife's Friends.
Kind Friend,
Dear, kind, and loving Commerade,
I'm fure, as e'er a Body had ;,
And gin the Warld shou'd a gae mad,
Thou art a well deserving Lad,
But, honest auld Acquaintance, now
There is a Change on me and you;
And Clashes past, and that nae few,
But Heav'n will gi' them their Due
I'll ay say that
Fu' well I wat.
Upon us baith :
That wish our Skaith.
The rising Hills, and Valleys wide,
Our Company they now divide ;
Besides a' that, you've gotten a Bride
I wish naething but Good betide,
to kiss and clap :
Or be your Hap.
Your Match is nane aboon your Thumb,
Tho' a' her Kin shou'd glowr and gloum,
And swell wi' Ire, until their Bum
Like Thunder roar ;
She's your Equal now,
in Time to come,
As well's before.
Sae live contentedly together,
In mutual Love to one another ;
And value neither Friend nor Brother,
But do your best :
Kind Providence, which brought you hither,
Makes out the rest.
Let ilka tattling ill bred Block,
Frae House to House still keep a Troak
Daily, of Lies to loose the Pock ;
" Sae poor's their Post,
They'll rin the Risque Heav'n to provoke,
And damn their Ghost.
Sae never mind that graceless Crew,
That speaks nae Good but of a few ;
For what they say is seldom true ,
Or for good Ends :
Of a' our Wrangs we may na' now
Hope for a Mends.
Take up a Heart, and fear nae Loss ;
Be blyth, and laugh at ilka Cross ;
Fate will your Enemies oppose ;
You need na' dread
The least Affront frae a' your Foes ;
Peace will succeed .
May a' the Charms of Love and Youth,
And a the Fruits of Peace and Truth,
With heavenly Blessings in a Fouth,
Show'r on your Pat ;
May you a Boaz, and she a RUTH,
Still imitate.
Farewel.