Young, royal Tarry Breeks, I learn,
Ye've lately come athwart her;
A glorious galley 3, stem an' stern,
Weel rigg'd for Venus' barter;
But first hang out, that she'll discern,
Your hymeneal charter,

Then heave aboard your grapple airn,

An', large upo' her quarter,

Come full that day.

Ye, lastly, bonie blossoms a',

Ye royal lasses dainty,

Heav'n mak you guid as weel as braw,
An' gie you lads a-plenty :
But sneer na British boys awa',
For kings are unco scant ay;
An' German gentles are but sma',
They're better just than want ay
On onie day.

God bless you a'! consider now,
Your unco muckle dautet ;

But ere the course o' life be through,
It may be bitter sautet:

An' I hae seen their coggie fou,

That yet hae tarrow't at it;

But or the day was done, I trow,

The laggen they hae clautet

Fu' clean that day.

Alluding to the newspaper account of a certain royal sailor's amour.

THE VISION.

DUAN FIRST 1.

THE sun had clos'd the winter day,
The curlers quat their roaring play
An' hunger'd maukin taen her way

To kail-yards green,

While faithless snaws ilk step betray

Whare she has been.

The thresher's weary flingin-tree
The lee-lang day had tired me;

And whan the day had clos'd his e'e,

Far i' the west,

Ben i' the spence, right pensivelie,

I gaed to rest.

There, lanely, by the ingle-cheek,
I sat and ey'd the spewing reek,
That fill'd, wi' hoast-provoking smeek,

The auld clay biggin;

An' heard the restless rattons squeak

About the riggin.

All in this mottie, misty clime,
I backward mus'd on wasted time,
How I had spent my youthfu' prime,

An' done nae-thing,

But stringin blethers up in rhyme,

For fools to sing.

1 Duan is a term in Ossian for the different divisions of a digressive poem. See his Cath-Loda, vol. ii. of M'PherSon's translation.

Had I to guid advice but harkit,
I might, by this, hae led a market,
Or strutted in a bank an' clarkit

My cash-account:

While here, half-mad, half-fed, half-sarkit,

Is a' th' amount.

I started, muttering, blackhead! coof!
And heav'd on high my waukit loof,
To swear by a' yon starry roof,

Or some rash aith,

That I, henceforth, would be rhyme-proof

Till my last breath

When click! the string the snick did draw:
And jee! the door gaed to the wa';

An' by my ingle-lowe I saw,

Now bleezin bright,

A tight, outlandish hizzie, braw,

Come full in sight.

Ye need na doubt, I held my whisht;
The infant aith, half-form'd, was crusht;
I glowr'd as eerie's I'd been dusht

In some wild glen;

When sweet, like modest worth, she blusht,

And stepped ben.

Green, slender, leaf-clad holly-boughs
Were twisted, gracefu', round her brows,

I took her for some Scotish Muse,

By that same token;

An' come to stop those reckless vows,

Wou'd soon been broken.

A hair-brain'd sentimental trace'
Was strongly marked in her face;
A wildly-witty, rustic grace

Shone full upon her;

Her eye, ev'n turn'd on empty space,

Beem'd keen with honor.

Down flow'd her robe, a tartan sheen,
Till half a leg was scrimply seen;

And such a leg; my bonie Jean

Could only peer it;

Sae straught, sae taper, tight and clean,

Nane else came near it.

Her mantle large, of greenish hue,

My gazing wonder chiefly drew;

Deep lights and shades, bold-mingling, threw A lustre grand;

And seem'd to my astonish'd view,

A well-known land.

Here, rivers in the sea were lost;
There, mountains to the skies were tost:
Here, tumbling billows mark'd the coast,
With surging foam;

There, distant shone art's lofty boast,

The lordly dome.

Here Doon pour'd down his far-fetch'd floods; There, well-fed Irwine stately thuds:

Auld hermit Ayr staw thro' his woods,

On to the shore;

And many a lesser torrent scuds,

With seeming roar.

Low in a sandy valley spread,
An ancient borough rear'd her head:
Still, as in Scotish story read,

She boasts a race,

To every nobler virtue bred,

And polish'd grace.

By stately tower or palace fair,

Or ruins pendent in the air,

Bold stems of heroes, here and there,

I could discern:

Some seem'd to muse, some seem'd to dare,

With feature stern.

My heart did glowing transport feel,
To see a race 2 heroic wheel,

And brandish round the deep-dy'd steel
In sturdy blows;

While back-recoiling seem'd to reel

Their suthron foes.

His Country's Saviour 3, mark him well!
Bold Richardton's 4, heroic swell;
The chief on Sark who glorious fell,

In high command;

His native land.

And he whom ruthless fates expel

2 The Wallaces.

3 William Wallace.

4 Adam Wallace, of Richardton, cousin to the immortal preserver of Scotish independence.

5 Wallace, Laird of Craigie, who was second in command, under Douglas Earl of Ormond, at the famous battle on the banks of Sark, fought anno 1448 That glorious victory was principally owing to the judicious conduct and intrepid valour of the gallant Laird of Craigie, who died of his wounds after the action.