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I'll warrant then, ye're nae deceiver,
O ye wha leave the springs of C-lv-n,
Ye'll some day squeel in quaking terror!
I thought them something like yoursel.
For prayin I hae little skill o't;
I'm baith dead-sweer, an' wretched ill o't; But I'se repeat each poor man's pray'r, That kens or hears about you, Sir—
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
Till H*******'s, at least a dizen,
But whilst your wishes and endeavours
By sad mistakes, and black mischances,
Your humble servant then no more;
TO A LOUSE:
ON SEEING ONE ON A LADY'S BONNET, AT CHURCH.
HA! whare ye gaun, ye crowlin ferlie!
Owre gauze and lace;
Tho' faith, I fear ye dine but sparely
Ye ugly, creepin, blastit wonner,
Gae somewhere else, and seek your dinner
Swith, in some beggar's haffet squattle;
In shoals and nations;
Whare horn or bane ne'er dare unsettle
Now haud ye there, ye're out o' sight,
Till ye've got on it,
The vera tapmost, tow'ring height
O' Miss's bonnet.
My sooth! right bauld ye set your nose out,
Or fell, red smeddum,
I'd gie you sic a hearty doze o't,
Wad dress your droddum!
I wadna been surpris'd to spy
But Miss's fine Lunardi! fie,
O Jenny, dinna toss your head,
The blastie's makin!
Thae winks and finger-ends, I dread,
O wad some pow'r the giftie gie us
It wad frae monie a blunder free us
And foolish notion:
What airs in dress an' gait wad lea'e us,
ADDRESS TO EDINBURGH.
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 flow'rs, As on the banks of Ayr I stray'd, And singing, lone, the ling'ring hours, I shelter in thy honour'd shade. 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.
Thy sons, Edina! social, kind,
With open arms the stranger hail; Their views enlarg'd, their lib'ral 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! Thy daughters bright thy walks adorn! Gay as the gilded summer sky, Sweet as the dewy milk-white thorn, Dear as the raptur'd thrill of joy! Fair Burnet strikes th' adoring eye, Heav'n's beauties on my fancy shine; I see the Sire of love on high,
And own his work indeed divine!