ON

THE LATE CAPTAIN GROSE'S

Peregrinations through Scotland,

COLLECTING THE ANTIQUITIES OF THAT KINGDOM.

HEAR, Land O' Cakes, and brither Scots,
Frae Maidenkirk to Johnny Groats;
If there's a hole in a' your coats,

I rede you tent it:

A chield's amang you, taking notes,

And, faith, he'll prent it.

If in your bounds ye chance to light

Upon a fine, fat, fodgel wight,

O' stature short, but genius bright,

That's he, mark weel

And wow! he has an unco slight

O' cauk and keel.

By

By some auld, houlet-haunted biggin,* Or kirk deserted by its riggin,

It's ten to ane ye'll find him snug in

Some eldritch part,

Wi' deils, they say, L-d safe's! colleaguin
At some black art.-

Ilk ghaist that haunts auld ha' or chamer, Ye gipsey-gang that deal in glamor,

And you deep read in hell's black grammar, Warlocks and witches;

Ye'll quake at his conjuring hammer,

Ye midnight b-es.

It's tauld he was a sodger bred, And ane wad rather fa'n than fled; But now he's quat the spurtle-blade,

And dog-skin wallet,

And ta'en the-Antiquarian trade,

I think they call it.

* Vide his Antiquities of Scotland.

He

He has a fouth o' auld nick-nackets:
Rusty airn caps and jinglin jackets,*
Wad haud the Lothians three in tackets,
A towmont guid;

And parritch-pats, and auld saut-backets,
Before the Flood.

Of Eve's first fire he has a cinder;
Auld Tubalcain's fire-shool and fender;
That which distinguished the gender
O' Balaam's ass;

A broom-stick o' the witch of Endor,

Weel shod wi' brass,

Forbye, he'll shape you aff, fu' gleg, The cut of Adam's philibeg:

The knife that nicket Abel's craig

He'll prove you fully,

It was a faulding jocteleg,

Or lang-kail gullie.

* Vide his treatise on ancient armour and weapons.

But

But wad ye see him in his glee,
For meikle glee and fun has he,
Then set him down, and twa or three

Guid fellows wi' him;

And port, O port! shine thou a wee,

And then ye'll see him!

Now, by the pow'rs o' verse and prose! Thou art a dainty chiel, O Grose!— Whae'er o' thee shall ill suppose,

They sair misca' thee;

I'd take the rascal by the nose,

Wad say, Shame fa' thee.

ΤΟ

то

MISS CRUIKSHANKS,

A VERY YOUNG LADY.

Written on the Blank Leaf of a Book, presented to her by the Author.

BEAUTEOUS rose-bud, young and gay,

Blooming on thy early May,

Never may'st thou, lovely flow'r,

Chilly shrink in sleety show'r!

Never Boreas' hoary path,

Never Eurus' pois'nous breath,
Never baleful stellar lights,
Taint thee with untimely blights!

Never, never reptile thief

Riot on thy virgin leaf!

Nor even Sol too fiercely view
Thy bosom blushing still with dew!

May'st