ON THE Late CAPTAIN GROSE'S PEREGRINATIONS thro' 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' ftature fhort, but genius bright, That's he, mark weel And vow! he has an unco flight O' cauk and keel. } By fome auld, houlet-haunted, higgin*, It's ten to ane ye'll find him fnug in Some eldritch part, Wi' deils, they fay, L- d fafe's! colleaguin Ilk ghaift that haunts auld ha' or chamer, And you, deep-read in hell's black grammar, Warlocks and witches; Ye'll quake at his conjuring hammer, Ye midnight bes2 It's tauld he was a fodger bred, And dog-fkin wallet, And taen the ntiquarian trade, I think they call it. He has a fouth o' auld nick-nackets : A towmont gude; And parritch-pats, and auld faut-backets, Before the Flood. * Vide his Antiquities of Scotland. Vide his treatife on the ancient amour and weapons. Of Eve's first fire he has a cinder; Auld Tubalcain's fire-fhool and fender; That which diftinguished the gender O' Balaam's afs; A broom-ftick o' the witch of Endor, Weel fhod 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.— But wad ye fee him in his glee, Gude fellows wi' him;' And, port, Ọ port! fhine thou a wee, And THEN ye'll see him! Now, by the powers o' Verfe and Profe! Thou art a dainty chield, O Grofe !- They fair mifca' thee; I'd take the rascal by the nose, Wad fay, Shame fa' thee; TO 1 Written on the blank Leaf of a Book, prefented to her by the Author. BEAUTEOUS AUTEOUS rofe-bud, young and gay, Blooming on thy early May, Never may't thou, lovely Flower, Chilly fhrink in fleety shower! 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 bofom blufhing ftill with dew! May't thou long, fweet crimfon gem, Till fome evening, fober, calm, The lovelieft form the e'er gave birth. SONG |