Philosophia musarum, containing the songs and romances of the Piper's wallet, Pan, the Harmonia musarum and other miscellaneous poems

Sae she maun be my hamelie bride,
To tent my kye an' a' that,
An' what can riches gie beside
But care an pain an' a' that:
An' a that an' a' that,

Aye she is mair that a that:
The rank is Follie's cuckin' stule,
The girl's the jo, for a' that.

The Gude created man an' wife
An' brither, bairn an' a' that,
The De'il, to gaw the happie life,
Made ladies, dukes an' a' that,
An' a' that an' a' that,

An' meikle mair than a' that,
Made dowfs to bow to titled gouks
An' knaves to rule an' a' that.

When Adam gaf to Eve his han',
There were nae lairds nae a' that,
An' yet the warl' gaed brawlie on,
An' men encreas'd, an' a' that :
An' a' that an' a' that,

An peace prevail'd an' a' that,
For there were then nae tyrants fear'd
Nar cringing slaves an' a' that.

Then let us cheer the comin' time
The gowden age an' a' that,
When Liberty in ilka clime

Shall wear her croun an' a' that:

An' a' that an' a' that

Shall

gruse her foes an' a' that, Then Virtue shall alane be rank, An' Science power an' a' that!

Brugge 22 Jany. 1846.

T. F.

ADRESS TO TUNBRIDGE WELLS.

WHERE THE AUTHOUR RECOVERED FROM AN ILLNESS.

Ance mair I greet ye Tunbrige Wells,
Lang syne ye've happit mine an'me,
Y'er upstent rocks an grassie dells
Wi glamour'd een I joy to see!
Hither I cam sae fu' o' ills,

I scarcelie kent y'er bonnie braes,
Y'er shadie glens an tinkling rills
An winding flowerenammel'd ways.

Aye monie a cantie day, a lad,

I've climb'd y'er craigs in search o' plants. Y'er bogs an' forests were to Dad

His first, his last, and dearest haunts.
Wi' him I've scann'd y'er loftie steeps,
At morning's dawn or e'enings fa';
But change, that over a' things creeps,
Hae swept baith Dad an' plants awa!

The yellow gorse yet gilds the muir,
The purple violet skirts the moun',
Yon fresh green vallies, as o' yore

Wi primrose braids are margin'd roun'.
But youth's rath morning light is shed,
An' bairnheid's gowden days are gaen,
An' itka fliskin' chiel is filed,

Wha jimp'd sae blythe alang the glen.

The lark still pipes his hymn on hie,
The mavis wakes the choral grove,
But Susie lilts nae mair to me,

Or grouks o'er Tittie's pranks wi' love!

Ae day, before the break o' morn, I dander'd out o'er hill an' dale,

Cheer'd by the wethers's bell, an horn, While scented blosoms fill'd the gale.

My boosie messins play'd aroun'
Wi' droukit lugs an social snout,
My lassie o'er the heather bloom
Loop'd gailic a' the braes about;
O'er the grey muir the niblin' flocks,
Their snawie fleeces stretch'd afar :
We scrambled np the mossclad rocks,
Frae Bishop's Down to auld Rustha

Anker an' Zampa, still at play,

Lang chace'd the maukins in the shaws, Till wearie on the grass they lay

An' wagg'd their an' lick't their jaws, On a snab stane I sat me doun'

To think upon the aulden time,

An cast a glent the country roun'

While daintie Morn was still in prime.

Quaint Echo threw her magic spells,
Wi' mimic accents, on my ears,
And frae the vale of Tunbridge wells
Ca'd up the scenes o' earlie years.
<«< Stay Mimie for I here maun rest,
An' wait a weaviu on the lea,
When noo ye tread Earth's flowerie breast,
Ye stamp on hallow'd groun' to me!

Twas here that I recower'd life

That for a while frae me was taen My sonsie bairn, my bonnie wife, An a' that ance mair is my ain!

This air first gaf me livin' breath,

These waters brace'd my mither's womb, Perchance those birks wave o'er the wreath That's doom'd to decorate her tomb!

An ye, auld Bet, y'er part did bear
To saft my pains, my sairs to heal,
Sae I maun haud ye ever dear,

Wi' thankfu' heart an' lo'e ye weel.
Fareweel then soother o' my dools,

Wha kens what fate await my lave?
The pow'r that lays me in the mools
May mak yon sandie gowl my grave!

Come let ut quit the mountain's height,
An hameward by the burnie' spang,
An' unco pack we'll drink, the night,
Aye e'en auld Posk maun join the thrang.
Then fringe the bowl wi' olive boughs,

An snood y'er locks wi' pansie flowers,
That purple luve may skirt y'er brows,
An peace for ever bless y'er hours!