V. Far be't frae me that I afpire But, faith! I muckle doubt, my Sire; To chaps, wha, in a barn or byre, Wad better fill'd their station Than courts yon day. VI. And now ye've gien auld Britain peace,, Her broken fhins to plaifter, Your fair taxation does her fleece, Till he has fcarce a tefter: For me, thank God! my life's a leafe, › Or, faith! I fear that wi' the geefe, I fhortly boost to pature I' the craft fome day. VII. I'm no miftrufting Willie Pitt, When taxes he enlarges, (An' Will's a true good fallow's get, A name not Envy spairges),, An' Boats this day. VIII. Adieu, my Liege! may Freedom geck But fin' I'm here, Ill no neglect,, In royal, true affection, To pay your Queen, with due respect, My fealty an' fubjection. This great Birth-day.. IX. Hail, Majefty mof Excellent! While Nobles ftrive to please Ye,. Will Ye accept a compliment A fimple Bardie gies Ye? Thae bonny Bairntime Heav'n has lent, For ever to release Ye Frae care that day. X. For you, young Potentate o' W I tell your Highness fairly, Down Pleafure's stream, wi' fwelling fails, Im tauld ye're driving rarely ! An' curfe your folly fairly, That e'er ye brak Diana's pales, Or rattl'd dice wi' Charlie By night or day.. XI. Yet aft a ragged Cowt's been known Sae ye may doucely fill a throne, For a' their clish-ma-claver: There Him at Agincourt wha fhone,. And yet, wi' funny, queer Sir John ↑ For monie a day, XII. -Ç, For you, right rev'red 0. Nane fets the lawn fleeve sweeter, Altho' a ribban at your lug Wad been a drefs completer: As ye difown yon paughty dog That bears the keys o' Peter, Then, fwith! an get a ife to hug, Or, troth! yell itain the Mitre Some lucklefs day. XIII. Young, royal Tarry-Breeks, I learn, Ye've lately come athwart her; But first hang out, that fhe'll difcern, *King Henry. Sir John Falstaff. See Shakespeare. Alluding to the News-paper account of a ce:tain Royal Sailor's amour. Your hymeneal charter, Then heave aboard your grapple airn, An' large upo' her quarter Come full that day XIV. Ye, laftly, bonny blossoms a' Ye royal laffes dainty, Heav'n mak you guid as weel as braw, An' gie you lads ä-plenty For Kings are unco fcant ay; They're better just than want ay On onie day.. XV. God blefs you a'! confider now Ye're unco muckle dautet; But 'ere the courfe o' life be through,, It may be better sauted: An' I hae feen their cogie fou, That yet hae tarrow't at it; But or the day was done, I trow, Fu' clean that day.. THE VISION. DUAN FIRST*. THE Sun had clos'd the winter day, The Curlers quat their roaring play,. To kail-yards green, While faithlefs fnaws ilk ftep betray Whare the has been.. The Thresher's weary flinging-tree- Far i' the Weft, Ben i' the Spence, right penfivelie, I gaed to reft. There, lanely, by the ingle cheek, I fat and ey'd the spewing reck, That fill'd, wi hoaft provoking fmeek, And heard the reflefs rattons fqueak The auld clay biggin, About the riggin. *Duan, a term of Ofian's for the different divifions of a digreffive Poem. See his Cath- Leda, vol. 2, of M Tra..ilation. Pherfon's |