The gallant Sir Robert fought hard to the end;
But who can with fate and quart bumpers contend?
Though fate said a hero should perish in light;
So uprose bright Phoebus-and down fell the knight.

Next uprose our bard, like a prophet in drink ;-
"Craigdarroch, thou'lt soar when creation shall sink!
But if thou would flourish immortal in rhyme,
Come one bottle more-and have at the sublime!

"Thy line, that have struggled for freedom with Bruce, Shall heroes and patriots ever produce:

So thine be the laurel, and mine be the bay;
The field thou hast won, by yon bright god of day!""

SECOND EPISTLE TO DAVIE,

A BROTHER POET.

Prefixed to the Poems of David Sillar, published at Kilmarnock, 1789.

AULD NEEBOR,

I'm three times, doubly, o'er your debtor,
For your auld-farrent, frien'ly letter;

Tho' I maun say't, I doubt ye flatter,

Ye speak sae fair;

For my puir, silly, rhymin clatter

Some less maun sair.

fiddle;

Hale be your heart, hale be your
Lang may your elbuck jink an' diddle,
To cheer you thro' the weary widdle

O' war'ly cares,

"Till bairns' bairns kindly cuddle

Your auld gray hairs.

But, DAVIE, lad, I'm red ye're glaikit;
I'm tauld the Muse ye hae negleckit;

An' gif its sae, ye sud be licket

Until ye fyke;

Sic hauns as you sud ne'er be faikit,

Be hain't wha like.

For me, I'm on Parnassus' brink,
Rivin the words to gar them clink;

Whyles daez't wi' love, whyles daez't wi' drink, Wi' jads or masons;

An' whyles, but aye owre late, I think

Braw sober lessons.

Of a' the thoughtless sons o' man,
Commen' me to the Bardie clan;
Except it be some idle plan

O' rhymin clink,

The devil-haet, that I sud ban!

They ever think.

Nae thought, nae view, nae scheme o' livin,
Nae cares to gie us joy or grievin:

But just the pouchie put the nieve in,

An' while ought's there,

Then hiltie, skiltie, we gae scrievin,

An' fash nae mair.

Leeze me on rhyme! it's aye a treasure,
My chief, amaist my only pleasure,
At hame, a-field, at wark, or leisure,

The Muse, poor hizzie!
Tho' rough an' raplock be her measure,
She's seldom lazy.

Haud to the Muse, my dainty Davie :
The warl' may play you monie a shavie;
But for the Muse, she'll never leave ye,

Tho' e'er sae puir,

Na, even tho' limpin wi' the spavie

Frae door to door.

FAREWELL TO AYRSHIRE.

SCENES of woe and scenes of pleasure,
Scenes that former thoughts renew,
Scenes of woe and scenes of pleasure,
Now a sad and last adieu!

Bonny Doon sae sweet at gloamin,
Fare thee weel before I gang!
Bonny Doon, whare, early roaming,
First I weav'd the rustic sang!

Bowers, adieu, whare Love, decoying,
First enthrall'd this heart o' mine,
There the saftest sweets enjoying,-
Sweets that Mem'ry ne'er shall tine!

Friends, so near my bosom ever,
Ye hae rendered moments dear;
But, alas! when forc'd to sever,
Then the stroke, O, how severe !

Friends! that parting tear reserve it,
Tho' 'tis doubly dear to me!

Could I think I did deserve it,

How much happier would I be!

Scenes of woe and scenes of pleasure,
Scenes that former thoughts renew,
Scenes of woe and scenes of pleasure,
Now a sad and last adieu!

1

GLOSSARY...

THE ch and gh have always the guttural sound. The sound of the English diphthong 00 is commonly spelled ou. The French u, a sound which often occurs in the Scottish language, is marked oo, or ui. The a in genuine Scottish words, except when forming a diphthong, or followed by an e mute after a single consonant, sounds generally like the broad English a in wall. The Scottish diphthong ae always, and ea very often, sound like the French e masculine. The Scottish diphthong ey sounds like the Latin ei.