Corpus of Modern Scottish Writing (CMSW) - www.scottishcorpus.ac.uk/cmsw/

Document : 105

Title: Poems

Author(s): Ramsay, Allan

POEMS
BY
ALLAN RAMSAY.
Let them cenſure, what care I?
The Herd of Criticks I defy.
No, no, the Fair, the Gay, the Young
Govern the Numbers of my Song:
All that they approve is ſweet,
And all is Senſe that they repete.
PRIOR from ANACREON.
EDINBURGH:
Printed by Mr. THOMAS RUDDIMAN, for the Author,
M. DCC. XXI.
To the moſt Beautiful,
THE
SCOTS LADIES.
Fair Patroneſſes,
FOR your innocent Diverſion, and
to invite thoſe engaging Smiles
which heighten your other Beauties,
the moſt part of my Poems were
wrote, having had the Pleaſure
to be ſometimes approv'd of by you, which
was the Mark I chiefly aim'd at. Allow me
then to lay the following Collection at your
Feet; accept of it as a grateful Return of every
Thought happily expreſs'd by me, they being
leſs owing to my natural Genius, than to the
Inſpiration of your Charms.
I ſhall hope to be excus'd, when I drop the
common Form, and enter not into a Detail of
your Qualities, altho the faireſt Field for Panegyrick,
but too extenſive for a Dedication,
and many of them the Subjects which embelliſh
the whole Book.
With Difficulty I curb my ſelf, and decline
ſo delightful a Theme: The raviſhing Images
crowd upon me; but I'll reſerve them for
Numbers. Proſe is too low, and looks affected,
when dreſs'd in the Ornaments of Panegyrick.
Dear Ladies, pardon my Eſcapes, and honour
me always with your indulgent Protection)
and allow me ever to be,
May it pleaſe your Ladyſhips,
Your moſt humble,
Moſt obedient,
And moſt faithful
Servant,
ALLAN RAMSAY.
Edinb. 14. July,
1721.
THE
PREFACE.
TIS none of the leaſt of my Diverſions to ſee one Part of
the World laughing at the other, yet all ſeem fully ſatisfied
with their own Opinions and Abilities; but I
ſhall never quarrel with any Man whoſe Temper is the
reverſe of mine, and enters not into the Taſte of the ſame
Pleaſures. 'Tis as ridiculous for one to be diſobliged at another's
different Way of Thinking, as it is to challenge him for having a Noſe
not of a Shape with his. Every Man is born with a particular Bent,
which will diſcover itſelf in Spite of all Oppoſition. Mine is obvious,
which ſince I knew, I never inclined to curb; but rather encouraged my
ſelf in the Purſuit, tho many Difficulties lay in my Way.
Whether Poetry be the moſt elevated, delightful and generous Study
in the World, is more than I dare affirm; but I think ſo. Yet I am
afraid, when the following Miſcellany is examined, I ſhall not be found
to deſerve the eminent Character that belongs to the Epick whoſe
Fire and Flegm is equally blended. — But Anacreon, Horace and
Waller were Poets, and had Souls warmed with true Poetick Flame,
tho their Patience fell ſhort of thoſe who could beſtow a Number of
Years on the finiſhing one Heroick Poem, and juſtly claim the
Preeminence.
If I know any Faults in my own Productions, I am not fool enough to
blaze them: Perhaps they may be overlook'd by the Indulgence of my beſt
Friends, for whom I write. - T'is not to be doubted that I have Enemies;
yes, I have been honoured with three or four Satyrs, but ſuch wretched
Stuff, that ſeveral of my Friends would alledge upon me that I had wrote
and publiſhed them my ſelf (none of the worſt Politicks I own) to make
the World believe I had no Foes but Fools. Such Pedants as confine
Learning to the critical Understanding of the dead Languages, while
they are ignorant of the Beauties of their Mother Tongue, do not view
me with a friendly Eye: But even with them, when I tell them to
their Faces, without Bluſhing, that I understand Horace but faintly
in the Original, and yet can feaſt on his beautiful Thoughts dreſs'd
in Britiſh; - and do not ſee any great Occaſion for every Man's being
made capable to tranſlate the Claſſicks, when they are ſo elegantly
done to his Hand. Nor do I value tho Doctor Bentley heard this: And
perhaps it had been no worſe for the great Lyrick, that this ſame Doctor
had underſtood the Latin Tongue as little as I. - If this Paragraph chance
to raiſe a Nest of Waſps, let them read the next to blunt their Stings.
My cheerful Friends will pardon (a very eſſential Qualification of a
Poet) my Vanity, when in ſelf Defence I inform the Ignorant, that many
of the fineſt Spirits, and of the higheſt Quality and Diſtinction,
emnent
for Literature, and Knowledge of Mankind, from an Affability
which ever accompanies great Minds, tell me, "They are pleaſed with what
"I have done; and add, That any ſmall Knowledge of the dead or foreign
Languages is nothing to my Diſadvantage. King David, Homer and
Virgil, ſay they were more ignorant of the Scots and Engliſh Tongue,
"than you are of Hebrew, Greek and Latin: Purſue your own natural
"Manner, and be an original." One may very eaſily imagine that I hear
this with Abundance of ſecret Satisfaction and Joy; the Ladies too are on
my ſide, they grace any Song with the Sweetneſs of their Voices, conn
over
my Paſtoral, and ſmile at my innocent merry Tale.
Thus ſhielded by the Brave and Fair,
My Foes may envy, but deſpair.
That I have expreſt my Thought in my native Dialect, was not only
Inclination, but the Deſire of my beſt and wiſeſt Friends; and moſt
reaſonable,
ſince good Imagery, juſt Similes, and all Manner of ingenious
Thoughts, in a well laid Deſign, diſpoſed into Numbers, is Poetry. —
Then good Poetry may be in any Language. — But ſome Nations ſpeak
rough, and their Words, are confounded with a Multitude of hard
Conſonants,
which makes the Numbers unharmonious. Beſides, their Language
is ſcanty, which makes a diſagreeable Repetition of the ſame Words.
— Theſe are no Defects in our's, the Pronunciation is liquid and
ſonorous,
and much fuller than the Engliſh, of which we are Maſters, by
being taught it in our Schools, and daily-reading it; which being added
to all our own native Words, of eminent Significancy, makes our Tongue
by far the completeſt: For Inſtance, I can ſay, an empty Houſe, a toom
Barrel, a boſs Head, and a hollow Heart. — Many ſuch Examples
might he given, but let this one ſuffice.
I cannot here omit a Paragraph or two of a Preface, wrote by the learned
Dr. Sewel, to a London Edition of one of my Paſtorals, after he
has ſaid ſome Things very handſomely in my Favour. — In behalf of
our Language he expreſſes himſelf thus, The following Poem, if I
am not miſtaken (for I let up for no Critic) is a true and juſt
Paſtoral,
abounding with thoſe Beauties, which are either requir'd, or are
to be found in the belt eſteem'd Paſtorals.
The Scotticiſms, which perhaps may offend ſome over-nice Ear,
give new Life and Grace to the Poetry, and become their Place as
well as the Doric Dialect of Theocritus, ſo much admired by the beſt
Judges. When I mention that Tongue, I bewail my own little Knowledge
of it, ſince I meet with ſo many Words and Phraſes ſo expreſſive
of the Ideas they are intended to repreſent. A ſmall Acquaintance
with that Language, and our old Engliſh Poets, will convince any
Man, that we ſpend too much Time in looking abroad for trifling
Delicacies,
when we may be treated at home with a more ſubſtantial, as
well as a more elegant Entertainment.
There are ſome of the following, which we commonly reckon Engliſh
Poetry, ſuch as the Morning Interview, Content, &c. but all their
Difference from the others is only in the Orthography of ſome Words, ſuch
as from for frae, bold for bauld, and ſome few Names of things; and
in thoſe, tho' the Words be pure Engliſh, the Idiom or Phraſeology is
ſtill
Scots.
Throughout the whole, I have only copied from Nature, and with
all Precaution have ſtudied, as far as it came within the Ken of
Obſervation and Memory, not to repeat what has been already ſaid by
others, tho it be next to impoſſible ſometimes to ſtand clear of them,
eſpecially
in the little Love-Plots of a Song. — There are towards he
End of this Miſcellany, five or ſix Imitations of Horace, which any
acquainted
at that Author will preſently obſerve. — I have only
ſnatched at his Thought and Method in groſs, and dreſs'd them up in
Scott, without confining my ſelf to no more or no leſs; ſo that theſe
are
only to he reckoned a following of his Manner.
This is all I think needfull in Defence of my Book, and to keep it in
Countenance with a Preface.
TO
Mr.ALLAN RAMSAY
ON HIS
Poetical Works.
HAIL Northern Bard! thou Fav'rite of the Nine,
Bright, or as Horace did, or Virgil ſhine.
In ev'ry Part of what thou'ſt done we find
How they, and great Apollo too, have joyn'd
To furniſh thee with an uncommon Skill,
And with Poetick Fire thy Boſom fill.
THY Morning Interview throughout is fraught
With tuneful Numbers and Majeſtick Thought:
And Celia, who her Lover's Suit diſdain'd,
Is by all-powerful Gold at length obtain'd.
WHEN Winter's hoary Aſpect makes the Plains
Unpleaſant to the Nymphs, and jovial Swains;
Sweetly thou do'ſt thy rural Couples call
To Pleaſures known within Edina's Wall.
WHEN, Allan, thou, for Reaſons thou know'ſt beſt,
Doom'd buſy Cowper to eternal Reſt:
What Mortal could thine El'gy on him read,
And not have ſworn he was defunct indeed?
Yet, that he might not loſe accuſtom'd Dues,
You rous'd him from the Grave to open Pews
Such Magick, worthy Allan, hath thy Muſe.
TH' experienc'd Bawd, in apteſt Strains thou'ſt made
Early inſtruct her Pupils in their Trade;
Leſt when their Faces wrinkled are with Age,
They ſhould not Cullies as when young engage.
But on our Sex why art thou ſo ſevere,
To wiſh for Pleaſure we may pay ſo dear:
Suppoſe that thou had'ſt after cheerful Juice,
Met with a ſtrolling Harlot wondrous ſpruce,
And been by her prevail'd with to reſort
Where Claret might be drunk, or, if not, Port,
Suppoſe, I ſay, that this thou granted had,
And Freedom took with the enticing Jade;
Woud'ſt thou not hope ſome Artiſt might be found
To cure, if ought you ail'd the ſmarting Wound?
WHEN of the Caledonian Garb you ſing,
(Which from Tartana's diſtant Clime you bring,)
With how much Force you recommend the Plaid,
To ev'ry jolly Swain, and lovely Maid.
But if, as Fame reports, ſome of thoſe Wights,
Who canton'd are among the rugged Heights
No Breeks put on, ſhould'ſt thou not them adviſe,
(Excuſe me, Ramſay, if I am too nice)
To take, as fitting 'tis, ſome ſpeedy Care
That what ſhould hidden be appears not bare;
Leſt Damſels, yet unknowing, ſhould by Chance,
Their nimble Ogle t'wards the Object glance?
If this thou doſt, we, who the South Poſſeſs,
May teach our Females how they ought to dreſs;
But chiefly let them underſtand, 'tis meet
They ſhould their Legs hide more, if not their Feet,
Too much by Help of Whale-bone now diſplay'd;
Ev'n from the Dutches to the Kitchen-maid;
But with more Reaſon, thoſe who give Diſtaſte,
When on their uncouth Limbs our Eyes we caſt.
THY other Sonnets in each Stanza ſhew,
What, when of Love you think, thy Muſe can do.
So movingly thou'ſt made the am'rous Swain,
Wiſh on the Moor his Laſs to meet again,
That I, methinks, find an unuſual Pain.
Nor haſt thou, chearful Bard, expreſt leſs Skill,
When the brisk Laſs you ſang of Peartie's-mill,
Or Suſſie, whom the Lad with yellow Hair
Thou'ſt made in ſoft and pleaſing Notes prefer
To Nymphs leſs handſome, conſtant, gay and fair.
IN lovely Strains kind Nancy you addreſs,
And make fond Willie his coy Jean poſſeſs:
Which done, thou'ſt bleſt the Lad in Nellie's Arms,
Who long had abſent been 'midſt dire Alarms.
And artfully you've plac'd within the Grove,
Jammie to hear his Miſtreſs own her Love.
A gentle Care you've found for Strephon's Breaſt,
By ſcornful Betty long depriv'd of Reſt.
And when the blisful Pairs you thus have crown'd,
You'd have the Glaſs go merrily arround
To ſhake off Care, and render Sleep more ſound.
WHO e'er ſhall ſee, or hath already ſeen,
Thoſe bonny Lines call'd Chriſt's-kirk on the Green.
Muſt own that thou haſt, to thy laſting Praiſe,
Deſerv'd as well as Royal JAMES the Bays.
'Mong other Things you've painted to the Life,
A Sot unactive lying by his Wife,
Which oft 'twixt wedded Folks makes wofull Strife.
WHEN' gainſt the ſcribling Knaves your Pen you drew,
How didſt thou laſh the vile preſumptuous Crew!
Not much fam'd Butler, who had gone before,
E'er ridicul'd his Knight, or Ralpho more;
So well thou's done it, equal Smart they feel,
As if thou'd pierc'd their Hearts with killing Steel.
THEY thus ſubdu'd, you in pathetick Rhyme,
A Subject undertook that's more ſublime,
By noble Thoughts, and Words diſcreetly join'd,
Thou'ſt taught me how I may Contentment find.
And when to Addie's Fame you touch'd the Lyre,
Thou ſang'ſt like one of the Seraphick Choir.
So ſmoothly flow thy nat'ral rural Strains,
So ſweetly too, you've made the mournful Swains
His Death lament, what mortal can forbear,
Shedding like us upon his Tomb a Tear.
GO on, fam'd Bard, thou Wonder of our Days,
And crown thy Head with never-fading Bays.
While grateful Britons do thy Lines revere,
And value, as they ought, their Virgil here.
J. BURCHET.
TO THE
AUTHOR.
AS once I view'd a rural Scene,
With Summer's Sweets profuſely wild;
Such Pleaſure ſooth'd my giddy Senſe,
I raviſh'd ſtood, while Nature ſmil'd.
STRAIGHT I reſolv'd and choſe a Field,
Where all the Spring I might transfer;
There ſtood the Trees in equal Rows,
Here Flora's Pride in one Parterre.
THE Task was done, the Sweets were fled,
Each Plant had loſt its ſprightly Air,
As if they grudg'd to be confin'd,
Or to their Will not matched were.
THE narrow Scene diſpleas'd my Mind,
Which daily ſtill more homely grew:
At length I fled the loathed Sight,
And hy'd me to the Fields anew.
HERE Nature wanton'd in her Prime;
My Fancy rang'd the boundleſs
Each different Sight pleas'd with Surpriſe,
I welcom'd back the Pleaſures paſt.
THUS ſome who feel Apollo's Rage,
Would teach their Muſe her Dreſs and Time,
Till hamper'd ſo with Rules of Art,
They ſmother quite the vital Flame.
THEY daily chime the ſame dull Tone,
Their Muſe no daring Sallies grace,
But ſtifly held with Bit and Curb,
Keeps heavy Trot, tho equal Pace.
BUT who takes Nature for his Rule,
Shall by her gen'rous Bounty ſhine;
His eaſy Muſe revells at Will,
And ſtrikes new Wonders every Line.
KEEP then, my Friend, your native Guide,
Never diſtruſt her plenteous Store,
Ne'er leſs propitious will ſhe prove
Than now; but, if ſhe can, ſtill more.
TO
MR. ALLAN RAMSAY.
TOo blindly partial to my native Tongue,
Fond of the Smoothneſs of our Engliſh Song;
At firſt thy Numbers did uncouth appear,
And ſhock'd th' affected Niceneſs of the Ear.
Thro' Prejudice's Eye each Page I ſee;
Tho all were Beauties, none were ſo to me.
Yet ſham'd at laſt, whilſt all thy Genius own,
To have that Genius hid from me alone;
Reſolv'd to find, for Praiſe or Cenſure, cauſe,
Whether to join with all, or all oppoſe;
Careful I read thee o'er and o'er again:
At length the uſeful Search requires my Pain;
My falſe Diſtaſte to inſtant Pleaſure's turn'd,
As much I envy as before I ſcorn'd:
And thus the Error of my Pride to clear,
I ſign my honeſt Recantation here.
C. BECKINGHAM.
TO
Mr. ALLAN RAMSAY
ON THE
Publication of his Poems.
DEAR Allan, who that hears your Strains,
Can grudge that you ſhould wear the Bays,
When 'tis ſo long ſince Scotia's Plains
Could boaſt of ſuch melodious Lays?
WHAT tho the Criticks, ſnarling Curs!
Cry out, Your Pegaſus wants Reins;
Bid them provide themſelves of Spurs;
Such Riders need not fear their Brains.
A Muſe that's healthy, fair and ſound,
With noble Ardor fearleſs haſtes
O'er Hill and Dale; but Carpet-Ground
Was ay for tender footed Beaſts.
E'EN let the fuſtian Coxcombs chuſe
Their Carpet-Ground; but the green Field
Was held a Walk for Virgil's Muſe,
And Virgil was an unto' Chield!
YOUR Muſe, upon her native Stock
Subſiſting, raiſes thence a Name;
While they are forc'd to pick the Lock
Of other Bards, and pilfer Fame.
OFT when I read your joyous Lines,
So full of pleaſant Jeſts and Wit,
So blyth and gay the Humor ſhines,
It gives me many a merry Fit.
THEN when I hear. of Maggy's Charms,
And Roger tholing ſair Diſdain,
The bonny Laſs my Boſom warms,
And mickle I bemoan the Swain.
FOR who can hear the Lad complain,
And not participate and feel
His artleſs undiſſembled Pain,
Unleſs he has a Heart of Steel.
BUT Patie's Wiles and cunning Arts
Appeaſe th' imaginary Grief,
Declare him well a Clown of Parts,
And bring the wretched Wight Relief.
MORE might be ſaid; but in a Friend
Encomiums ſeem but dull and flat,
The Wiſe approve, but Fools commend,
A Pope's Authority for that.
ELSE certes 'twere in me unmeet,
To grudge the Muſe's utmoſt Force,
Or ſpare in ſuch a Cauſe my Feet,
To clinch at leaſt in Praiſe of yours.
JA. ARBUCKLE.
AN
Alphabetical Liſt
Of ſuch of the Subſcribers Names as have come
to Hand.
A
Duke of Argyle and Greenwich.

Marquis of Annandale.
Sir John Anſtruther of that Ilk,
Bar.
Lady Margaret Anſtruther.
Captain James Abercromby.
James Adam of Vogrie.
Mr. William Aikman of Cairnie.
Mr. Robert Alexander of Blackhouſe,
one of the principal Clerks
of Seſſion.
Mr. John Alves Advocate.
Mr. James Anderſon Writer to the
Signet.
Mr. David Anderſon Writer.
Mr. Patrick Anderſon Writer.
Mr. John Anderſon.
Jean Anderſon Lady Logy-Wiſhart.
Colonel Philip Anſtruther.
Mrs. Elizabeth Arthur.
John Arbuthnot, M D. Lond.
John Arbuthnot of Boſton' Mert.
James Arbuckle of Belfaſt A. M.
B.
MArquis of Bowmont, eldeſt
Son to the Duke of Roxburgh.

Earl of Broadalbin.
Earl of Bute.
Lord Blantire.
Lord Binning, eldeſt Son to the Earl
of Hadington.
Sir William Bennet of Grubbet,
Bar.
Sir William Baird of Newbyth, Bar.
Sir Robert Baird of Sauchtonhall,
Bar.
Sir Thomas Brand Knight, Uſher of
the Green Rod, and daily Waiter
to his Majeſty.
The Right Honourable George Baillie
of Jeriſwood, one of the
Commiſſioners of the Treaſury.
Mr. James Baillie Writer to the Sig.
William Baillie Eſq; Governor of
Guida.
Robert Baillie, M. D.
John Baillie of Edinburgh, Mert.
John Baird Eſq; of Newbyth Jun.
Alexander Baird, Eſq;
Captain Arthur  Balfour.
James Balfour of Pilrig.
Mr. James Barclay of Balmakeuan,
Advocate.
Captain John Bennet, of the Royal
Regiment of blew Guards.
William Bennet, Eſq; of Grubbet,
Junior.
Mrs. Elizabeth Bennet.
Henry Bethune of Edinb. Jeweller.
Mr. Alexander Birnie, Advocate.
Mr. Alexander Blackwood of Edinburgh
Merchant.
Mr. Walter Boſwell.
Alexander Brodie of that Ilk.
Mr. William Brown Writer.
Mr. James Brownhill.
Alexander Bruce of Kenneth.
Mr. David Bruce.
Thomas Brugh of Leith Merchant.
Arch. Buchanan of Drumikil.
Francis Buchanan of Arnpryor.
Mr. John Buchanan Writer.
James Budge of Toſtengal.
Joſiah Buchet, Eſq; Secretary of
the Admiralty.
Gilbert Burnet, Eſq; one of the Commiſſioners
of Exciſe.
C.
DUke of Chandois
Marquis of Carnarvon, eldeſt
Son to the Duke of Chandois.
Earl of Crawford.
Earl of Caſſils.
Earl of Caithneſs.
Earl of Carnwath.
Lord Cranſtoun.
Lord Colvill.
Lord Carnegie.
Colonel Charles Cathcart, eldeſt Son
to the Lord Cathcart.
Sir William Calderwood of Polton,
one of the Senators of the College
of Juſtice.
Sir Ja. Campbel of Ardkinlas, Bar.
Sir Dun. Campbel of Lochnel, Bar.
Sir Ja, Campbel of Aberuchil, Bar.
Sir James Carmichael of Bonnington,
Bar.
Sir William Cuningham of Capringtoun,
Bar.
Sir James Cuningham of Milncraig
Bar. for four Books.
The Right Honourable John Campbel,
Eſq; Lord Provoſt of Edinb.
Mr. James Callender Advocate.
Donald Cameron of Loch-iol.
Colonel Campbel of the Royal Regiment
of the Scots Dragoons.
Colonel Campbel of Finab.
Jo. Campbel of Shannfield Jun.
Colin Campbel of Skipniſh,
Archbald Campbel of Rudel.
James Campbel of Stonefield.
Robert Campbel of Stockholm,
Merchant.
Colin Campbel, Eſq;
Charles Campbel, Eſq;
Mr. Archbald Campbel Writer to
the Signet.
Mr. Daniel Campbel Writer.
William Carmichael of Edin.
James Carnegie of Finhaven.
Mr. William Caſtillaw.
Captain Walter Cheiſly.
Alexander Cleghorn of Edinb. Mert.
The Honourable John Clerk, Eſq; one
of the Barons of Exchequer.
John Clerk, Eſq; Son to Baron Clark.
John Clerk, M. D.
Hugh Clerk of Edinb. Mert.
Tho.Cocheran of Kilmaronach, Eſq;
Mr. Charles Cockburn, Adv. one of
the Commiſſioners of Exciſe.
William Cockburn, Eſq;
Andrew Cockburn of London, Mert.
Thomas Cornwall of Bonhard.
Mr. Jo.Crawfurd of Jordanhill, Adv.
Mr. John Corſe Writer.
David Crawfurd of Allantoun.
Robert Crawford, Eſq;
William Crawford, Eſq;
Charles Crockat of Edinb. Mert.
Patrick Criſp, Eſq; Comptroller of
the Exciſe.
George Cuming of Edinb. Mert.
Mrs. Anna Cuningham.
Mrs. Margaret Cuningham.
Henry Cuningham of Buchquhan.
John Cuningham of Pitairthy.
D.
DUke of Douglas.
Earl of Dalhouſie.
Lord Deskford, eldeſt Son to the
Earl of Findlater.
Lord John Drummond.
Sir David Dalrymple of Hales, Bar.
Sir John Dalrymple of Cowſland,
Bar.
Sir Robert Dalrymple of Caſtletoun
The Honourable George Dalrymple
Eſq;, one of the Barons of Exch,
Ja. Dalrymple of Hales, Junior.
Mr. Hew. Dalrymple Advocate.
Mr. Hugh Dalrymple Advocate.
William Dale Eſq;
Mr. George Davidſon Writer.
John Don of Attenburn.
Captain Thomas Don.
William Don of Edinburgh Mert.
Lodwick Donaldſon Writer in Edin.
James Donaldſon of Edin. Mert.
Richard Dowdeſwell Eſq; Secretary
to the Board of Exciſe.
William Douglas Junior of Glenbervie.

Colonel William Douglas.
Patrick Douglas of Edin. Merchant.
David Drummond of Cultmalindie,
Mr. George Drummond of Edinburgh
Merchant.
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U
CAptain Robert Urquhart of Burdsyards.

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THE
Morning Interview.
Such killing Looks, ſo thick the Arrows fly,
That 'tis unſafe to be a Stander by:
Poets approaching to deſcribe the Fight,
Are by their Wounds inſtructed how to write.
WALLER, 130.
WHEN ſilent Show'rs refreſh the pregnant Soil,
And tender Sallats eat with Tuſcan Oil,
Harmonious Muſick gladens ev'ry Grove,
While bleating Lambkins from their Parents
rove,
And o'er the Plain the anxious Mothers ſtray,
Calling their tender Care with hoarſer Bae.
Now cheerful Zephyr from the Weſtern Skies
With eaſy Flight o'er painted Meadows flies,
To kiſs his Flora with a gentle Air,
Who yields to his Embrace, and looks more fair.
WHEN from Debauch with ſp'rituous Juice oppreſt
The Sons of Bacchus ſtagger Home to Reſt,
With tatted Wigs, foul Shoes, and uncock'd Hats,
And all bedaub'd with Snuff their looſe Cravats.
The Sun began to ſip the morning Dew,
As Damon from his reſtleſs Pillow flew.
HIM late from Celia's Cheek a Patch did wound,
A Patch high ſeated on the bluſhing Round.
His painful Thoughts all Night forbid him Reſt,
And he employ'd that Night as one oppreſt;
Muſing Revenge, and how to countermine
The ſtrongeſt Force, and ev'ry deep Deſign
Of Patches, Fans, of Necklaces and Rings,
Ev'n Muſick's Pow'r, when Celia plays or ſings
FATIGU'D with running Errands all the Day,
Happy in want of Thought his Valet lay,
Recruiting Strength with Sleep. — His Maſter calls,
He ſtarts with lock'd up Eyes, and beats the Walls.
A ſecond Thunder rouſes up the Sot,
He yawns and murmurs Curſes through his Throat:
Stockings awry, and Breeches-knees unlac'd,
And Buttons do miſtake their Holes for Haſte.
His Maſter raves, — cries, Roger, make Diſpatch,
Time flies apace. He frown'd, and lookt his Watch:
Haſte, do my Wig, ty't with the careleſs Knots,
And run to Civet's, let him fill my Box.
Go to my Laundreſs, ſee what makes her ſtay,
And call a Coach and Barber in your Way.
THUS Orders juſtle Orders in a Throng:
Roger with laden Mem'ry trots along.
His Errands done; with Bruſhes next he muſt
Renew his Toil amidſt perfuming Duſt;
The yielding Comb he leads with artful Care,
Through crook'd Meanders of the flaxen Hair:
E'er this perform'd he's almoſt chok'd to Death,
The Air is thicken'd, and he pants for Breath.
The Trav'ler thus in the Numidian Plains,
A Conflict with the driving Sands ſuſtains.
TWO Hours are paſt, and Damon is equipt,
Penſive he ſtalks, and meditates the Fight:
Arm'd Cap-a-pee, in Dreſs a killing Beau,
Thrice view'd his Glaſs, and thrice reſolv'd to go,
Fluſht full of Hope to overcome his Foe.
His early Pray'rs were all to Paphos ſent,
That Jove's Sea-daughter would give her Conſent
Cry'd, Send thy little Son unto any Aid.
Then took his Hat, tript out, and no more ſaid.
WHAT lofty Thoughts do ſometimes puſh a Man
Beyond the Verge of his own native Span!
Keep low thy Thoughts, frail Clay, not boaſt thy Pow'r;
Fate will be Fate: And ſince there's nothing ſure,
Vex not thy ſelf too much,but catch th' auſpicious Hour.
THE tow'ring Lark had thrice his Mattins ſung,
And thrice were Bells for pious Service rung.
In Plaids wraps up, Prudes throng the ſacred Dome,
And leave the ſpacious Petticoat at Home:
While ſofteſt Dreams ſeal'd up fair Celia's Eyes,
She dreams of Damon, and forgets to riſe.
A ſportive Sylph contrives the ſubtile Snare,
Sylphs know the charming Baits which catch the Fair;
She ſhews him handſome, brawny, rich, and young;
With Snuff-box, Cane, and Sword-knot finely hung,
Well skill'd in Airs of Dangle, Toſs and Rap,
Thoſe Graces which the tender Hearts entrap.
WHERE Aulus oft makes Law for Juſtice paſs,
And CHARLES's Statue ſtands in laſting Braſs,
Amidſt a lofty Square which ſtrikes the Sight,
With ſpacious Fabricks of ſtupendous Hight;
Whoſe ſublime Roofs in Clouds advance ſo high,
They ſeem the Watch-tow'rs of the nether Sky;
Where once Alas! where once the Three Eſtates
Of Scotland's Parliament held free Debates:
Here Celia dwelt, and here did Damon move,
Preſs'd by his rigid Fate, and raging Love.
To her Apartment ſtraight the daring Swain
Approach'd, and ſoftly knock'd, nor knock'd in vain.
The Nymph new wak'd ſtarts from the lazy Down,
And rolls her gentle Limbs in Morning-Gown:
But half awake, ſhe judges it muſt be
Frankalia come to take her Morning Tea;
Cries, Welcome, Couſin. But ſhe ſoon began
To change her Viſage, when ſhe ſaw a Man:
Her unfixt Eyes with various Turnings range,
And pale Surpriſe to modeſt Red exchange:
Doubtful 'twixt Modeſty and Love ſhe ſtands,
Then ask'd the bold Impertinent's Demands.
Her Strokes are doubled, and the Youth now found
His Pains increaſe, and open ev'ry Wound.
Who can deſcribe the Charms of looſe Attire?
Who can reſiſt the Flames with which they fire?
Ah, barbarous Maid! he cries, ſure native Charms
Are too too much: Why then ſuch Store of Arms?
Madam, I come, prompt by th' uneaſy Pains,
Caus'd by a Wound from you, and want Revenge;
A borrow'd Pow'r was poſted on a Charm:
A Patch, damn'd Patch! Can Patches work ſuch Harm?
HE ſaid; then threw a Bomb, lay hid within
Love's Mortar-piece, the Dimple of his Chin:
It miſs'd for once, ſhe lifted up her Head,
And bluſh'd a Smile, that almoſt ſtuck him dead,
Then cunningly retir'd, but he purſu'd
Near to the Toilet, where the War renew'd.
Thus the great Fabius often gain'd the Day
O'er Hannibal, by frequent giving Way:
So warlike Bruce and Wallace ſometimes deign'd
To ſeem defeat, yet certain Conqueſt gain'd.
THUS was he led in midſt of Celia's Room,
Speechleſs he ſtood, and waited for his Doom:
Words were but vain, he ſcarce could uſe his Breath,
As round he view'd the Implements of Death.
Her dreadful Arms in careleſs Heaps were laid
In gay Diſorder round her tumbled Bed:
He often to the ſoft Retreat would ſtare,
Still wiſhing he might give the Battel there.
Stunn'd with the Thought, his wand'ring Looks did ſtray
To where lac'd Shoes and her ſilk Stockings lay,
And Garters which are never ſeen by Day.
His dazl'd Eyes almoſt deſerted Light;
No Man before had ever got the Sight,
A Lady's Garters, Earth! their very Name,
Tho yet unſeen, ſets all the Soul on Flame.
The Royal Ned knew well their mighty Charms,
Elſe he'd ne'er hoop'd one round the Engliſh Arms.
Let barb'rous Honours crown the Sword and Lance,
Thou next their King does Britiſh Knights advance,
O GARTER! Honi ſoit qui mal y penſe.
O who can all theſe hidden Turns relate,
That do attend on a raſh Lover's Fate!
In deep Diſtreſs the Youth turn'd up his Eyes,
As if to ask Aſſiſtance from the Skies.
The Petticoat was hanging on a Pin,
Which the unlucky Swain ſtar'd up within:
His curious Eyes too daringly did rove,
Around this oval conick Vault of Love:
Himſelf alone can tell the Pain he found,
While his wild Sight ſurvey'd forbidden Ground.
132. The Royal Ned] Edward III. King of England who eſtabliſhed the moſt
honourable
Order of the Garter.
He view'd the ten-fold Fence, and gave a Grone,
His trembling Limbs beſpoke his Courage gone:
Stupid and pale he ſtood, like Statue dumb,
The amber Snuff dropt from his careleſs Thumb.
Be ſilent here, my Muſe, and ſhun a Plea
May riſe betwixt old Bickerſtaff and me;
For none may touch a Petticoat but he.
Damon thus foil'd, breath'd with a dying Tone,
Aſſiſt ye Powers of Love, elſe I am gone.
The ardent Pray'r ſoon reach'd the Cyprian Grove,
Heard and accepted by the Queen of Love.
Fate was propitious too, her Son was by,
Who midſt his dread Artillery did ly
Of Flanders Lace, and Straps of curious Dy.
On India Muſlin Shades the God did loll,
His Head reclin'd upon a tinſy Roll.
THE Mother Goddeſs thus her Son beſpoke,
"Thou muſt, my Boy, aſſume the Shape of Shock,
"And leap to Celia's Lap; whence thou may ſlip
"Thy Paw up to her Breaſt, and reach her Lip
"Strike deep thy Charms, thy pow'rful Art diſplay,
"To make, young Damon Conqueror to Day.
"Thou need not bluſh to change thy Shape, ſince Jove
"Try'd moſt of brutal Forms to gain his Love;
"Who that he might his loud Saturnia gull,
"For fair Europa's Sake inform'd a Bull.
SHE ſpoke — Not quicker does the Lamp of Day
Dart on the Mountain Tops a gilded Ray,
Swifter than Lightning flies before the Clap,
From Cyprus Iſle he reach'd Celia's Lap:
Now fawns, now wags his Tail, and licks her Arm
She hugs him to her Breaſt, nor dreads the Harm.
So in Aſcanius Shape, the God unſeen
Of old deceiv'd the Carthaginian Queen.
So now the ſubtile Pow'r his Time eſpies,
And threw two barbed Darts in Celia's Eyes:
Many were broke before he cou'd ſucceed;
But that of Gold flew whizzing through her Head:
Theſe were his laſt Reſerve. — When others fail,
Then the refulgent Metal muſt prevail.
Pleaſure produc'd by Money now appears,
Coaches and Six run rattling in her Ears.
O Liv'ry Men! Attendants! Houſhold-plate!
Court-pats and Viſits! pompous Air and State!
How can your Splendor eaſy Acceſs find,
And gently captivate the fair one's Mind
Succeſs attends, Cupid has plaid his Part,
And ſunk the pow'rful Venom to her Heart.
She cou'd no more, ſhes catched in the Snare,
Sighing ſhe fainted in her eaſy Chair.
No more the ſanguine Streams in Bluſhes glow,
but to ſupport the Heart all inward flow,
Leaving the Cheek as cold and white as Snow.
Thus Celia fell, or rather thus did riſe:
Thus Damon made, or elſe was made a Prize;
For both were Conquerors, and both did yield,
Firſt ſhe, now he, is Maſter of the Field.
NOW he reſumes freſh Life, abandons Fear,
Jumps to his Limbs, and does more gay appear.
Not gaming Heir when his rich Parent dies,
Not Zealot reading Hackney's Party-lies,
Not ſoft Fifeteen on her Feet-waſhing Night,
Not Poet when his Muſe ſublimes her Flight,
Not an old Maid for ſome young Beauty's Fall,
Not the long tending Stibler at his Call,
Not Husband-man in Drought when Rain deſcends,
Not Miſs when Limberham his Purſe extends,
E'er knew ſuch Raptures as this joyful Swain,
When yielding, dying Celia calm'd his Pain.
The rapid Joys now in ſuch Torrents roul,
That ſcarce his Organs can retain his Soul.
VICTOR he's gen'rous, courts the Fair's Eſteem,
And takes a Baſon fill'd with limpid Stream,
Then from his Fingers form'd an artful Rain,
Which rouz'd the dormant Spirits of her Brain,
And made the purple Channels flow again.
She lives, he ſings; ſhe ſmiles, and looks more tame:
Now Peace and Friendſhip is the only Theme.
211. Stibler] A Probationer.
213. Limberbam] A kind Keeper.
THE Muſe owns freely here ſhe does not know
If Language paſs'd between the Belle and Beau,
Or if in Courtſhip ſuch uſe Words or no.
But ſure it is there was a Parley beat,
And mutual Love finiſht the proud Debate.
Then to complete the Peace and ſeal the Bliſs,
He for a Diamond Ring receiv'd a Kiſs
Of her ſoft Hand. — Next the aſpiring Youth,
With eager Tranſports preſs'd her glowing Mouth.
So by Degrees the Eagles teach their Young
To mount on high and ſtare upon the Sun.
A ſumptuous Entertainment crowns the War,
And all rich Requiſites are brought from far.
The Table boaſts its being from Japan,
Th' ingenious Work of ſome great Artiſan.
China, where Potters coarſeſt Mould refine,
That Rays through the tranſparent Veſſels ſhine;
The coſtly Plates and Diſhes are from thence,
And Amazonia muſt her Sweets diſpence;
227. Uſe Words] It being alledged that the Eloquence of this Specie lies
in the Elegance
of Dreſs.
243. Amaznia] A famous River in South America, whence we have our Sugar.
To her warm Banks our Veſſels cut the Main,
For the ſweet Product of her luſcious Cane.
Here Scotia does no coſtly Tribute bring,
Only ſome Kettles full of Todian Spring.
WHERE Indus and the double Ganges flow,
On odorif'rous Plains the Leaves do grow,
Chief of the Treat, a Plant the Boaſt of Fame,
Sometimes call'd Green, Bohea's its greater Name.
O happieſt of Herbs! Who would not be
Pythagoriz'd into the Form of thee,
And with high Tranſports act the Part of Tea?
Kiſſes on thee the haughty Belles beſtow,
While in thy Steams their coral Lips do glow;
Thy Vertues and thy Flavour they commend,
While Men, even Beaux, with parched Lips attend.
243. Todian Spring] Tod's-Well, which ſupplies the City with Water.
EPILOGUE.
THE Curtain's drawn Now gen'rous Reader ſay,
Have ye not read worſe Numbers in a Play?
Sure here is Plot, Place, Character and Time,
ſmoothly wrought in good firm Britiſh Rhime.
I own 'tis but a Sample of my Lays,
Which asks the Civil Sanction of your Praiſe.
Beſtow't with Freedom, let your Praiſe be ample,
And I my ſelf will ſhow you good Example.
Keep up your Face, altho dull Criticks ſquint,
And cry, with empty Nod, There's Nothing in't:
They only mean there's Nothing they can uſe;
Becauſe they find moſt where there's moſt Refuſe.
ELEGY
ON
MAGGY JOHNSTON,
who died Anno 1711.
AULD Reeky mourn in Sable Hue,
Let Fouth of Tears dreep like May Dew,
To brave Tippony bid Adieu,
Which we with Greed
Bended as faſt as ſhe cou'd brew,
But ah! ſhe's dead.
Maggy Johnſton liv'd about a Mile Southward of Edinburgh, kept a little
Farm, and had
a particular Art of brewing a ſmall Sort of Ale agreeable to the Taſte,
very white, clear
and intoxicating, which made People who lov'd to have a good Pennyworth for
their Money
be her frequent Cuſtomers. And many others of every Station, ſometimes
for Diverſion,
thought it no Affront to be ſeen in her Barn or Yard.
1. Auld Reeky] A Name the Country People give Edinburgh from the Cloud of
Smoak
or Reek that is always impending over it.
3. To braw Tippony] She ſold the Scots Pint, which is near two Quarts
Engliſh, for Two
pence.
TO tell the Truth now Maggy dang,
Of Cuſtomers ſhe had a Bang;
For Lairds and Souters a' did gang
To drink bedeen,
The Barn and Yard was aft ſae thrang,
We took the Green.
AND there by Dizens we lay down,
Syne ſweetly ca'd the Healths arown,
To bonny Laſſes black or brown,
As we loo'd beſt;
In Bumpers we dull Cares did drown,
And took our Reſt.
WHEN in our Poutch we fand ſome Clinks,
And took a Turn o'er Bruntsfield-Links,
Aften in Maggy's at Hy-jinks,
We guzl'd Scuds,
Till we cou'd ſcarce wi hale out Drinks
Caſt aff our Duds.
7. Maggy dang] He dings, or dang, is a Phraſe which means to excel or get
the better.
20. Bruntsfield Links] Fields between Edinburgh and Maggys's, where the
Citizens commonly
play at the Gowlf.
21. Hy-jinks] A drunken Game, or new Project to drink and be rich; thus,
The Quaff
WE drank and drew, and fill'd again,'
O wow but we were blyth and fain!
When ony had their Count miſtain,
O it was nice,
To hear us a' cry, Pike ye'r Bain
And' ſpell ye'r Dice;.
FOU cloſs we us'd to drink and rant,
Until we did baith glowre and gaunt,
And piſh and ſpew, and yesk and maunt,
Right ſwaſh I true;
Then of auld Stories we did cant
Whan we were fou.
or Cup is fill'd to the Brim, then one of the Company takes a Pair of Dice,
and after crying
Hy-jinks, he throws them out: The Number he caſts up points out the
Perſon muſt
drink, he who threw, beginning at himſelf Number One, and ſo round till
the Number of
the Perſon agree with that of the Dice, (which may fall upon himfelf if
the Number be within
Twelve; then he ſets the Dice to him, or bids him take them: He on whom
they fall is
obliged to drink, or pay a ſmall Forfeiture in Money; then throws, and ſo
on: But if he
forget to cry Hy-jinks he pays a Forfeiture into the Bank. Now he on whom
it falls to drink,
if there he any Thing in Bank worth drawing, gets it all if he drinks. Then
with a great
Deal of Caution he empties his Cup, ſweeps up the Money, and orders the
Cup to be fill'd
again, and then throws; for if he err in the Articles, he loſes the
Privilege of drawing the
Money. The Articles are, (1) Drink, (2) Draw. (3) Fill, (4) Cry Hy-jinks
(5)
Count juſt, (6) Chuſe your doublet Man, viz. when two equal Numbers of
the Dice is
thrown, the Perſon whom you chuſe muſt pay a Double of the common
Forfeiture, and ſo
muſt you when the Dice is in his Hand. A rare Project this,and no Bubble I
can aſſure you;
for a covetous Fellow may ſave Money, and get himſelf as drunk as he can
deſire in leſs than
an Hour's Time.
29. Pike ye'r Bain] Is a Cant Phraſe, when one leaves a little in the Cup,
he is adviſed to
pike his Bone, i.e. Drink it clean out.
WHAN we were weary'd at the Gowff,
Then Maggy Johnſton's was our Howff;
Now a' our Gameſters may ſit dowff,
Wi' Hearts like Lead,
Death wi' his Rung rax'd her a Yowff,
And ſae ſhe died.
MAUN we be forc'd thy Skill to tine?
For which we will right ſair repine;
Or havt thou left to Bairns of thine
The pauky Knack
Of brewing Ale amaiſt like Wine?
That gar'd us crack.
SAE brawly did a Peaſe-ſcon Toaſt
Biz i' the Queff, and flue the Froſt;
There we gat fou wi' little Coſt,
And muckle Speed,
Now wae worth Death, our Sport's a' loſt,
Since Maggy's dead.
41. Rax'd her a Youff] Reach'd her a Blow.
50. Flie the Froſt] Or fright the Froſt or Coldneſs out of it.
AE Simmer Night I was ſae fou,
Amang the Riggs I geed to ſpew;
Syne down on a green Bawk, I trow
I took a Nap,
And ſoucht a' Night Balillilow,
As ſound's a Tap.
AND whan the Dawn begoud to glow,
I hirſl'd up my dizzy Pow,
Frae 'mang the Corn like Wirricow,
Wi' Bains ſae ſair,
And ken'd nae mair than if a Ew
How I came there.
SOME ſaid it was the Pith of Broom.
That ſhe ſtow'd in her Masking-loom,
Which in our Heads rais'd ſic a Foom,
Or ſome wild Seed,
Which aft the Chaping Stoup did toom,
But fill'd our Head.
55. Ae Simmer Night, &c.] The two following Stanzas are a true Narrative.
On that ſlid Place where I 'maist brake my Bains,
To be a Warning I ſet up two Stains,
That nane may venture there at I have done,
Unleſs wi' frosted Nails be clink his Shoon.
BUT now ſince 'tis ſae that we muſt
Not in the beſt Ale put our Truſt,
But whan we're auld-return to Duſt,
Without Remead,
Why ſhou'd we tak it in Diſguſt
That Maggy's dead.
OF warldly Comforts ſhe was rife,
And liv'd a Lang and hearty Life,
Right free of Care, or Toil, or Strife,
Till ſhe was ſtale,
And ken'd to be a kanny Wife
At brewing Ale.
THEN farewell Maggy douce and fell,
Of Brewers a' thou boor the Bell;
Let a' thy Goſſies yelp and yell,
And without Feed,
Gueſs whether ye're in Heaven or Hell,
They're ſure ye're dead.
EPITAPH.
O Rare MAGGY JOHNSTON.
ELEGY
ON
JOHN COWPER Kirk-Treaſurer's Man,
ANNO 1714.
I WAIRN ye a' to greet and drone,
John Cowper's dead, Ohon! Ohon!
To fill his Poſt, alake there's none,
That with ſic Speed
Cou'd ſa'r Sculdudry out like John,
But now he's dead.
'Tis neceſſary for the Illuſtration of this Elegy to Strangers to let
them a little into the
Hiſtory of the Kirk-Treaſurer and his Man; The Treaſurer is choſen
every Year, a Citizen
reſpected for Riches and Honeſty; he is veiled with an abſolute Power to
ſeiſe and
impriſon the Girls that are too impatient to have on their green Gown
before it be hem'd;
them he ſtrrctly examines, but no Liberty to be granted till a fair
Account be given of theſe
Perſons they have obliged. It muſt be ſo: A Liſt is frequently given
ſometimes of a Dozen
or thereby of married or unmarried unfair Traders whom they ſecretly
aſſiſted in running
their Goods, theſe his Lordſhip makes pay to ſome purpoſe according to
their Ability, for
the Uſe of the Poor: If the Lads be obſtreperous, the Kirk-Seſſions,
and worſt of all, the
Stool of Repentance is threarned, a Puniſhment which few of any Spirit can
bear.
The Treaſurer being charged every Year, never comes to be perfectly
acquainted with
the Affair; but their general Servant continuing for a long Time, is more
expert at
diſcovering ſuch Perſons, and the Places of their Reſort, which makes
him capable to
do himſelf and Cuſtomers both a good or an ill Turn. John Cowper
maintain'd this Poſt
with Activity and good Succeſs for ſeveral Years.
5. Sa'r Sculdudry] In Alluſion to a ſcent Dog, Sa'r from Savour or Smell,
Sculdudry a
Name commonly given to whoring.
HE was right nacky his Way,
And eydent baith be Night and Day,
He wi' the Lads his Part cou'd play;
When right ſair fleed,
He gart them good Bill-ſiller pay,
But now he's dead.
OF Whore-hunting he gat his Fill,
And made be't moray Pint and Gill:
Of his braw Poſt he thought nae Ill,
Nor did nae need,
Now they may mak a Kirk and Mill
O't, ſince he's dead.
ALTHO he was nae Man of Weir,
Yet mony a ane, wi quaking Fear,
Durſt ſcarce afore his Face appear,
But hide their Head;
The wylie Carle he gather'd Gear,
And yet he's dead.
11. Bill-ſiller] Bull-ſilver.
She ſaw the Cow well ſerv'd, all took a Groat.
AY now to ſome Part far awa,
Alas he's gane and left it a'!
May be to ſome ſad Whilliwhaw
O' fremit Blood,
'Tis an ill Wind that dis na blaw
Some Body good.
FY upon Death, he was to blame
To whirle poor John to his lang Hame:
But tho his Arſe be cauld, yet Fame,
Wi' Tout of Trumpet,
Shall tell how Cowper's awfou Name
Cou'd flie a Strumpet.
HE kend the Bawds and Louns fou well,
And where they us'd to rant and reel,
He paukily on them cou'd ſteal,
And ſpoil their Sport;
Aft did they wiſh the muckle De'll
Might tale him for't.
27. Whilliwha of fremit Blood] Whilliwha is a kind of an inſinuating
deceitful Fellow, Fremit
Blood, not a Kin, becauſe he had then no legitimate Heirs of his own Body.
BUT ne'er a ane of them he ſpar'd,
E'en tho there was a drunken Laird
To draw his Sword, and make a Faird
In their Defence,
John quietly put them in the Guard
To learn mair Senſe.
THERE maun they ly till ſober grown,
The Lad neiſt Day his Fault maun own;
And to keep a' Things' huſh and low'n,
He minds the Poor,
Syne after a' his Ready's flown,
He damns the Whore.
AND ſhe, poor Jade, withoutten Din,
Is ſent to Leith-Wynd Fit to ſpin,
With heavy Heart and Cleathing thin,
And hungry Wame,
And ilky Month a well paid Skin,
To mak her tame.
45 Make a Fairf] A Buſtle like a Bully.
52. He minds the Poor] Pays huſh Money to the Treaſurer.
56. Leith Wynd Fit] The Houſe of Correction at the Foot of Leith-Wynd,
ſuch as Bridewell
in London.
BUT now they may ſcoure up and down,
And ſafely gang their Wakes arown,
Spreading the Clap throw a' the Town,
But Fear or Dread;
For that great Kow to Bawd and Lown,
John Cowper's dead.
SHAME faw ye'r .Chandler Chafts, O Death,.
For ſtapping of John Cowper's Breath;
The Loſs of him is publick Skaith:
I dare well ſay,
To quat the Grip he was right laith
This mony a Day.
POSTSCRIPT.
OF umquhile John to lie or bann,
Shaws but ill Will, and looks right ſhan,
But ſome tell odd Tales of the Man,
For Fifty Head
67. Chandler Chafts] Lean or meager Cheeked, when the Bones appear like the
Sides or
Corners of a Candleſtick, which in Scots we call a Chandler.
Can gi'e their Aith they've ſeen him gawn
Since he was dead.
KEEK but up throw the Stinking Stile,
On Sunday Morning a wee While,
At the Kirk Door out frae an Iſle,
It will appear;
But tak good Tent ye dinna file
Ye'r Breeks for Fear.
OR well we wat it is his Ghaiſt,
Wow, wad ſome Fouk that can do't beſt
Speak till't and hear what it confeſt;
'Tis a good Deed
To ſend a wand'ring Saul to reſt
Amang the Dead.
77. Seen him gawn] The common People when they tell their Tales of Ghoſts
appearing,
they ſay, he has been ſeen gawn or ſtalking.
79. Stinking Stile] Oppoſite to this Place is the Door of the Church which
he attends,
being a Beadle.
86. Wow, wad ſome Fouk that can do't beſt] 'Tis another vulgar Notion,
that a Ghoſt will
not be laid to reſt, till ſome Prieſt ſpeaks to it, and get Account
what diſturbs it.
ELEGY
ON
Lucky WOOD in the Canongate, May 1717.
O Cannigate! poor elritch Hole,
What Loſs, what Croſſes does thou thole!
London and Death gars thee look drole,
And hing thy Head
Wow, but thou has e'en a cauld Coal
To blaw indeed.
HEAR me ye Hills, and every Glen,
Ilk Craig, ilk Cleugh, and hollow Den,
And Echo ſhrill, that a' may ken
The waefou Thud,
Lucky Wood kept an Ale-houſe in the Canongate, was much reſpected for
Hoſpitality, Honeſty,
and the Neatneſs both of her Perſon and Houſe.
3. London and Death] The Place of her Reſidence being the greateſt
Sufferer, by the Loſs
of our Members of Parliament, which London now enjoys, many of them having
their Houſes
there, being the Suburb of Edinburgh, neareſt the King's Palace; this with
the Death of
Lucky Wood are ſufficient to make the Place ruinous.
Be rackleſs Death, wha came unſenn
To Lucky Wood.
SHE's dead o'er true, ſhe's dead and gane,
Left us and Willie Burd alane,
To bleer and greet, to ſob and mane,
And rugg our Hair,
Becauſe we'll ne'r ſee her again
For evermair.
SHE gae'd as fait as a new Prin,
And kept her Houſie ſnod and been;
Her Peuther glanc'd upo' your Een
Like Siller Plate;
She was a donſie Wife and clean,
Without Debate.
IT did ane good to ſee her Stools,
Her Boord, Fire-ſide, and facing Tools;
Rax, Chandlers, Tangs, and Fire-Shools,
Basket wi' Bread.
11. Came unſenn] or unſent for; There's nothing extraordinary in this, it
being his com
mon Cuſtom, except in ſome few Inſtances of late ſince the falling of
the Bubbles.
14. WIllie] Her Husband William Wood.
26. Facing Tools] Stoups [or Pots] and Cups, ſo call'd from the Facers.
See l.29.
Poor Facers now may chew Pea-hools,
Since Lucky's dead.
SHE ne'er gae in a Lawin fauſe,
Nor Stoups a Froath aboon the Hauſe,
Nor kept dow'd Tip within her Waw's,
But reaming Swats;
She never ran ſour Jute, becauſe
It gee's the Batts.
SHE had the Gate ſae well to pleaſe,
With gratis Beef, dry Fiſh, or Cheeſe;
Which kept our Purſes ay at Eaſe,
And Health in Tiſt,
And lent her freſh Nine Gallon Trees
A hearty Lift.
SHE ga'e us aft hail Legs o' Lamb.
And did nae hain her Mutton Ham;
29. Poor Facers] The Facers were a Club of fair Drinkers who inclined
rather to ſpend
a Shifting on Ale than Twopence for Meat; they had their Name from a Rule
they obſerved
of obliging themſelves to throw all they left in the Cup in their own
Faces: Wherefore to
ſave their Face and Cloaths, they prudently ſuck'd the Liquor clean out.
31. She ne'er gae in, &c.] All this Verſe is a fine Picture of an honeſt
Ale-ſeller;
A Rarity.
Than ay at Yule, when e'er we came,
A bra' Gooſe Pye,
And was na that good Belly Baum
Nane dare deny.
THE Writer Lads fow well may mind her,
Furthy was ſhe, her Luck deſign'd her
Their common Mither, ſure nave kinder
Ever brake Bread;
She has na left her Make behind her,
But now ſhe's dead.
To the ſma' Hours we aft ſat ſtill,
Nick'd round our Toaſts and Sniſhing Mill;
Good Cakes we wanted ne'r at Will,
The beſt of Bread,
Which aften coſt us mony a Gill
To Aikenhead.
COU'D our ſaut Tears like Clyde down rin,
And had we Cheeks like Corra's Lin,
60. To Aikenhead's] The Nether-bow Porter, to whom Lucky's Cuſtomers were
often obliged
for opening the Port for them, when they ſtaid out 'till the ſmall Hours
after Midnight.
62. Like Corra's Lin] A very high Precipice nigh Lanerk, over which the
River of Clyde
falls making a great Noiſe, which is heard ſome Miles off.
That a' the Warld might hear the Din
Rair frae ilk Head;
She was the Wale of a' her Kin,
But now ſhe's dead.
O Lucky Wood, 'tis hard to bear
The Loſs; but Oh! we maun forbear:
Yet ſall thy Memory be dear
While blooms a Tree,
And after Ages Bairns will ſpear
'Bout Thee and Me.
EPITAPH.
BEneath this Sod
Lies Lucky Wood,
Whom a' Men might put Faith in;
Wha was na ſweer,
While ſhe winn'd here,
To cramm our Wames for naithing.
Lucky Spence's laſt Advice.
THREE Times the Carline grain'd and rifted,
Then frae the Cod her Pow ſhe lifted,
In bawdy Policy well gifted,
When ſhe now faun,
That Death na langer wad be ſhifted,
She thus began:
MY loving Laſſes, I maun leave ye,
But dinna wi' ye'r Greeting grieve me,
Nor wi' your Draunts and Droning deave me,
But bring's a Gill;
For Faith, my Bairns, ye may believe me,
'Tis 'gainſt my Will.
Lucky Spence, a famous Bawd who flouriſhed for ſeveral Years about the
Beginning of
the Eighteenth Century; ſhe had her Lodgings near Holyrood-houſe; ſhe
made many a benefit
Night to herſelf, by putting a Trade in the Hands of young Laſſes that
had a little Pertneſf,
ſtrong Paſſions, Abundance of Lazineſs, and no Fore-thought.
O black Ey'd Beſs and mim Mou'd Meg,
O'er good to work or yet to beg;
Lay Sunkots up for a ſair Leg,
For whan ye fail,
Ye'r Face will not be worth a Feg,
Nor yet ye'r Tail.
WHAN e'er ye meet a Fool that's fow,
That ye're a Maiden gar him trow,
Seem nice, but ſtick to him like Glew;
And whan ſet down,
Drive at the Jango till he ſpew,
Syn he'll ſleep ſoun.
WHAN he's aſleep, then dive and catch
His ready Caſh, his Rings or Watch;
And gin he likes to light his Match
At your Spunk-box,
Ne'er ſtand to let the fumbling Wretch
E'en take the Pox.
13. Mim Mou'd] Expreſſes an affected Modeſty, by a preciſeneſs about
the Mouth.
27. Light his Match, &c.] I could give a large Annotation on this Sentence,
but do not incline
to explain every thing, leſt I diſoblige future Criticks, by leaving
nothing for them to do.
CLEEK a' ye can be Hook or Crook,
Ryp ilky Poutch frae Nook to Nook;
Be ſure to truff his Pocket-book,
Saxty Pounds Scots
Is nae deaf Nits: In little Bouk
Lie great Bank-Notes.
To get a Mends of whinging Fools,
That's frighted for Repenting-Stools,
Wha often, whan their Metal cools,
Turn ſweer to pay,
Gar the Kirk-Boxie hale the Dools
Anither Day.
BUT dawt Red Coats, and let them ſcoup,
Free for the Fou of cutty Stoup;
To gee them up, ye need na hope
E'er to do well:
35. Is nae deaf Nits] or empty Nuts; This is a negative manner of ſaying a
thing is ſubſtantial.
37. To get a Mends] To be revenged; of whindging Fools, Fellows who wear
the wrong ſide
of their Faces outmoſt, Pretenders to Sanctity, who love to be ſmugling
in a Corner.
40. Gar the Kirk-Boxie hale the Dools] Delate them to the Kirk-Treaſurer.
Hale the
Dools is a Phraſe uſed at Foot-ball, where the Party that gains the Goal
or Dool is ſaid
to hail it or win the Game, and ſo draws the Stake.
44. Cutty Stoup] Little Pot, i.e. a Gill of Brandy.
They'll rive ye'r Brats and kick your Doup,
And play the Deel.
THERE'S ae ſair Croſs attends the Craft,
That curſt Correction-houſe, where aft
Vild Hangy's Taz ye'r Riggings ſaft
Makes black and blae,
Enough to pit a Body daft;
But what'll ye ſay.
NANE gathers Gear withoutten Care,
Ilk Pleaſure has of Pain a Skare;
Suppoſe then they ſhould tirle ye bare,
And gar ye fike,
E'en learn to thole; 'tis very fair
Ye're Nibour like.
FORBY, my Looves, count upo' Loſſes,
Ye'r Milk-white Teeth and Checks like Roſes,
51. Hangy's Taz ] If they perform not the Task aſſign'd them, they are
whipt by the Hangmar.

54 But what'll ye ſay] The Emphaſis of this Phraſe, like many others,
cannot be underſtood
but by a Native.
Whan Jet-black Hair and Brigs of Noſes,
Faw down wi' Dads
To keep your Hearts up 'neath ſic Croſſes,
Set up for Bawds.
WI' well criſh'd Loofs I hae been canty,
Whan e'er the Lads wad fain ha'e faun t' ye
To try the auld Game Taunty Raunty,
Like Cooſers keen,
They took Advice of me your Aunty,
If ye were clean.
THEN up I took my Siller Ca'
And whiſtl'd berm whiles ane, whiles twa;
Roun'd in his Lug, That there was a
Poor Country Kate,
As haleſom as the Well of Spaw,
But unka blate.
SAE whan e'er Company came in,
And were upo' a merry Pin,
74. And whiſtled ben] But and Ben ſignify different Ends or Rooms of a
Houſe; to gang
But and Ben is to go from one End of the Houſe to the other.
75. Roun'd in his Lug] whiſper'd in his Ear.
I ſlade away wi' little Din,
And muckle Menſe,
Left Confcience Judge, it was a' ane
To Lucky Spence.
MY Benniſon come on good Doers,
Who ſpend their Caſh on Bawds and Whores;
May they ne'er want the Wale of Cures
For a ſair Snout:
Foul fa' the Quacks wha that Fire ſmoors,
And puts nae out.
MY Maliſon light ilka Day
On them that drink, and dinna pay,
But tak a Snack and rin away;
May't be their Hap
Never to want a Gonorrhæa,
Or rotten Clap.
83. Left Conſcience Judge] It was her uſual Way of vindicating herſelf
to tell ye, When
Company came to her Houſe, could ſhe be ſo uncivil at to turn them out:
If they did any bad thing,
ſaid ſhe, between GOD and their Conſcience be't.
88. Fire ſmoors] Such Quacks as bind up the external Symptoms of the Pox,
and drive
it inward to the ſtrong Holds, whence it is not ſo eaſily expelled.
LASS gi'e us in anither Gill,
A Mutchken, Jo, let's tak our Fill;
Let Death ſyne regiſtrate his Bill
Whan I want Senſe,
I'll ſlip away with better Will,
Quo' Lucky Spence.
TARTANA,
OR THE
PLAID.
YE Caledonian Beauties, who have long
Been both the Muſe, and Subject of my Song,
Aſſiſt your Bard, who in harmonious Lays
Deſigns the Glory of your Plaid to raiſe:
How my fond Breaſt with blazing Ardour glows,
When e'er my Song on you juſt Praiſe beſtows.
Phæbus, and his imaginary Nine,
With me have loſt the Title of Divine;
To no ſuch Shadows will I Homage pay,
Theſe to my real Muſes ſhall give Way:
My Muſes, who on ſmooth meand'ring Tweed,
Stray through the Groves, or grace the Clover Mead;
Or theſe who bath themſelves where haughty Clyde
Does roaring o'er his lofty Cat'racts ride;
Or you who on the Banks of gentle Tay
Drain from the Flowers the early Dews of May,
To varniſh on your Check the Crimſon Dy,
Or make the White the falling Snow outvy:
And you who on Edina's Streets diſplay
Millions of matchleſs Beauties every Day;
Inſpir'd by you, what Poet can deſire
To warm his Genius at a brighter Fire
I ſing the Plaid, and ſing with all my Skill,
Mount then O Fancy, Standard to my Will;
Be ſtrong each Thought, run ſoft each happy Line,
That Gracefulneſs and Harmony may ſhine,
Adapted to the beautiful Deſign.
Great is the Subject, vaſt th' exalted Theme,
And ſhall ſtand fair in endleſs Rolls of Fame.
THE Plaid's Antiquity comes firſt in View,
Precedence to Antiquity is due:
Antiquity contains a certain Spell,
To make ev'n Things of little Worth excell;
To ſmalleſt Subjects gives a glaring Daſh,
Protecting high born Idiots from the Laſh
Much more 'tis valu'd, when with Merit plac'd,
It graces Merit, and by Merit's grac'd.
O firſt of Garbs! Garment of happy Fate!
So long employ'd of ſuch an antique Date;
Look back ſome Thouſand Years, till Records fail,
And loſe rhemſelves in ſome Romantick Tale,
We'll find our Godlike Fathers nobly ſcorn'd
To be with any other Dreſs adorn'd;
Before baſe foreign Faſhions interwove,
Which 'gainſt their Int'reſt and their Brav'ry ſtrove.
'Twas they could boaſt their Freedom with proud Rome,
And arm'd in Steel deſpiſe the Senate's Doom;
Whil'ſt o'er the Globe their Eagle they diſplay'd,
And conquer'd Nations proſtrate Homage paid,
They only, they unconquer'd ſtood their Ground,
And to the mighty Empire fixt the Bound.
Our native Prince who then ſupply'd the Throne,
In Plaid array'd magnificently ſhone:
Nor ſeem'd his Purple, or his Ermine leſs,
Tho cover'd by the Caledonian Dreſs.
In this at Court the Thanes were gayly clad,
With this the Shepherds and the Hinds were glad,
In this the Warrior wrapt his brawny Arms,
With this our beauteous Mothers vail'd their Charms;
When ev'ry Youth, and every lovely Maid
Deem'd it a Deſhabille to want their Plaid.
O Heav'ns! How chang'd? How little look their Race?
When foreign Chains with foreign Modes take Place;
When Eaſt and Weſtern-Indies muſt combine
To deck the Fop, and make the Gewgaw ſhine.
Thus while the Grecian Troops in Perſia lay,
And learn'd the Habit to be ſoft and gay,
By Luxury enerv'd, they loſt the Day.
I ask'd Varell, what Soldiers he thought beſt?
And thus he anſwer'd to my plain Requeſt;
"Were I to lead Battalions out to War,
"And hop'd to triumph in the Victor's Car,
"To gain the loud Applauſe of worthy Fame,
"And Columns rais'd to eternize my Name,
"I'd chooſe, had I my Choice, that hardy Race
"Who fearleſs can look Terrors in the Face;
"Who midſt the Snows the beſt of Limbs can fold
"In Tartan Plaids, and ſmile at chilling Cold:
"No uſeleſs Traſh ſhould pain my Soldier's Back,
"Nor Canvaſs Tents make loaden Axles crack;
''No rattling Silks I'd to my Standards bind,
"But bright Tartana's waving in the Wind:
"The Plaid alone ſhould all my Enſigns be,
"This Army from ſuch Banners would not flie.
"Theſe, theſe were they, who naked taught the Way
"To fight with Art, and boldly gain the Day.
Ev'n great Guſtavus ſtood himſelf amaz'd,
While at their wond'rous Skill and Force he gaz'd.
With ſuch brave Troops one might o'er Europe run,
Make out what Richlieu fram'd, and Lewis had begun.
DEGENERATE Men! Now Ladies pleaſe to ſit,
That I the Plaid in all its Airs may hit,
With all the Powers of Softneſs mixt with Wit.
WHILE ſcorching Titan tawns the Shepherd's Brow,
And whittling Hinds ſweat lagging at the Plow:
The piercing Beams Brucina can defy,
Not Sun-burnt ſhe's, nor dazl'd is her Eye.
Ugly's the Mask, the Fan's a trifling Toy
To ſtill at Church ſome Girl or reſtleſs Boy.
Fixt to one Spot's the Pine and Myrtle Shades,
But on each Motion wait th' Umbrellian Plaids,
Repelling Duſt when Winds diſturb the Air,
And give a Check to every ill bred Stare.
LIGHT as the Pinions of the airy Fry,
Of Larks and Linnets who traverſe the Sky,
Is the Tanana ſpun ſo very fine,
Its Weight can never make the Fair repine,
By raiſing Ferments in her glowing Blood,
Which cannot be eſcap'd within the Hood:
Nor does it move beyond its proper Sphere,
But let's the Gown in all its Shapes appear;
Nor is the Straightneſs of her Waiſt deny'd
To be by every raviſht Eye ſurvey'd.
For this the Hoop may ſtand at largeſt Bend,
It comes not nigh, nor can its Weight offend.
THE Hood and Mantle make the tender faint;
I'm pain'd to ſee them moving like a Tent.
By Heather Jenny in her Blanket dreſt,
The Hood and Mantle fully are expreſt;
Which round her Neck with Rags is firmly bound,
While Heather Beſoms loud ſhe ſcreams around.
Was Goody Strode ſo great a Pattern, ſay?
Are ye to follow when ſuch lead the Way?
But know each Fair who ſhall this Sur-tout uſe,
You're no more Scots, and ceaſe to be my Muſe.
THE ſmootheſt Labours of the Perſian Loom
Lin'd in the Plaid, ſet off the Beauty's Bloom;
Faint is the Gloſs, nor come the Colours nigh,
Tho white as Milk, or dipt in Scarlet Dy.
The Lily pluckt by fair Pringella grieves,
Whoſe whiter Hand outſhines its ſnowy Leaves:
No wonder then white Silks in our Eſteem,
Match'd with her fairer Face, they ſully'd ſeem.
IF ſhining Red Campbella's Cheeks adorn,
Our Fancies ſtraight conceive the bluſhing Morn;
Beneath whole Dawn the Sun of Beauty lies,
Nor need we Light but from Campbella's Eyes.
IF lin'd with Green Stuarta's Plaid we view,
Or thine Ramſeia edg'd around with Blue;
One ſhews the Spring when Nature is moſt kind,
The other Heav'n, whole Spangles lift the Mind.
A Garden Plot enrich'd with choſen Flowers,
In Sun Beams basking after vernal Showers,.
Where lovely Pinks in ſweet Confuſion riſe,
And Amaranths and Eglintines ſurpriſe;
Hedg'd round with fragrant Brier and Jeſſamine,
The roſie Thorn and variegated Green;
Theſe give not half that Pleaſure to the View,
As when, Ferguſia, Mortals gaze on you:
You raiſe our Wonder, and our Love engage,
Which makes us curſe, and yet admire the Hedge;
The Silk and Tartan Hedge, which does conſpire
With you to kindle Love's ſoft ſpreading Fire.
How many Charms can every fair one boaſt!
How oft's our Fancy in the Plenty loſt!
Theſe more remote, theſe we admire the moſt.
What's too familiar often we deſpiſe,
But Rarity makes ſtill the Value riſe.
IF Sol himſelf ſhou'd ſhine through all the Day,
We cloy, and loſe the Pleaſure of his Ray
But if behind ſome manly Cloud be ſteal,
Nor for ſometime his radiant Head reveal,
With brighter Charms his Abſence he repays,
And every Sun Beam ſeerns a double Blaze.
So when the Fair their dazling Luſtres ſhroud,
And diſappoint us with a Tartan Cloud,
How fondly do we peep with wiſhful Eye,
Tranſported when one lovely Charm we ſpy?
Oft to our Coſt, ah me! we often find
The Power of Love ſtrikes deep, tho he be blind;
Perch'd on a Lip, a Cheek, a Chin, or Smile,
Hits with Surpriſe, and throws young Hearts in Jail.
FROM when the Cock proclaims the riſing Day,
And Milk-maids ſing around ſweet Curds and Whey;
Till gray-ey'd Twilight, Harbinger of Night,
Purities o'er Silver Mountains ſinking Light,
I can unwearied from my Caſements view
The Plaid, with ſomething ſtill about it new.
How are we pleas'd, when with a handſome Air
We ſee Hepburna walk with eaſy Care?
One Arm half circles round her ſlender Waiſt,
The other like au Ivory Pillar plac'd,
To hold her Plaid around her modeſt Face,
Which ſaves her Bluſhes with the gayeſt Grace:
If in white Kids her taper Fingers move,
Or unconfin'd jet thro' the ſable Glove.
176. Silver Mountains] Ochel Hills.
WITH what a pretty Action Keitha holds
Her Plaid, and varies oft its airy Folds;
How does that naked Space the Spirits move,
Between the ruſl'd Lawn and envious Glove?
We by the Sample, tho no more be ſeen,
Imagine all that's fair within the Skreen.
THUS Belles in Plaids vail and diſplay their Charms,
The Love-ſick Youth thus bright Humea warms,
And with her graceful Meen her Rivals all alarms.
THE Plaid itſelf gives Pleaſure to the Sight,
To ſee how all its Setts imbibe the Light;
Forming ſome Way, which even to me lies hid,
White, Black, Blew, Yellow, Purple, Green and Red.
Let Newton's Royal Club through Priſms ſtare,
To view Celeſtial Dyes with curious Care,
I'll pleaſe my ſelf, nor ſhall my Sight ask Aid
Of Criſtal Gimcracks to ſurvey the Plaid.
HOW decent is the Plaid when in the Pew,
It hides th' inchanting Fair from Ogler's View.
The Mind's oft crowded with ill tim'd Deſires,
When Nymphs unvail'd approach the ſacred Quires.
Even Senators who guard the Common-weal,
Their Minds may rove; — Are Mortals made of Steel?
The finiſht Beaux ſtand up in all their Airs,
And ſearch out Beauties more than mind their Prayers.
The wainſcot Forty Six's are perplext
To be eclips'd, Spite makes them drop the Text.
The younger gaze at each fine Thing they ſee;
The Orator himſelf is ſcarcely free.
Ye then who wou'd your Piety expreſs,
To ſacred Domes ne'er come in naked Dreſs.
The Power of Modeſty ſhall ſtill prevail;
Then Scotian Virgins uſe your native Vail.
THUS far young Coſmel read; then ſtar'd and curſt,
And askt me very gravely how I durſt
Advance ſuch Praiſes for a Thing deſpis'd?
He ſmiling, ſwore I had been ill advis'd.
To you, ſaid I, perhaps this may ſeem true,
And Numbers vaſt, nor Fools may ſide with you:
As many ſhall my Sentiments approve;
Tell me what's not the Butt of Scorn and Love?
Were Mankind all agreed to think one Way,
What wou'd Divines and Poets have to ſay?
No Enſigns wou'd on Martial Fields be ſpread,
And Corpus Juris never wou'd be read:
We'd need no Councils, Parliaments, nor Kings,
Ev'n Wit and Learning wou'd turn ſilly Things.
You miſs my Meaning ſtill, I'm much afraid,
I would not have them always wear the Plaid.
OLD Salem's Royal Sage, of Wits the Prime,
Said, For each Thing there was a proper Time.
Night's but Aurora's Plaid, that ta'en away,
We loſe the Pleaſure of returning Day;
Ev'n through the Gloom, when view'd in ſparkling Skies,
Orbs ſcarcely ſeen, yet gratify our Eyes:
So through Hamilla's op'ned Plaid, we may
Behold her heavenly Face, and heaving milky Way.
Spaniſh Reſerve, joind with a Gallick Air,
If manag'd well, becomes the Scotian Fair.
NOW you ſay well, ſaid he; But when's the Time
That they may drop the Plaid without a. Crime?
THEN I,
Leſt, O fair Nymphs, ye ſhould our Patience tire,
And ſtarch Reſerve extinguiſh gen'rous Fire;
Since Heaven your ſoft victorious Charms deſign'd
To form a Smoothneſs on the rougher Mind:
When from the bold and noble Toils of War,
The rural Cares, or Labours of the Bar;
From theſe hard Studies which are learn'd and grave,
And ſome from dang'rous Riding o'er the Wave:
The Caledonian manly Youth reſort
To their Edina, Love's great Mart and Port,
And crowd her Theatres with all that Grace
Which is peculiar to the Scotian Race;
At Conſort, Ball, or ſome Fair's Marriage-Day,
O then with Freedom all that's ſweet diſplay.
When Beauty's to be judg'd without a Vail,
And not its Powers met out as by Retail,
But Wholeſale, all at once, to fill the Mind
With Sentiments gay, ſoft, and frankly kind;
Throw by the Plaid, and like the Lamp of Day,
When there's no Cloud to intercept his Ray.
So ſhine Maxella, nor their Cenſure fear,
Who, Slaves to Vapours, dare not ſo appear.
ON Ida's Height, when to the Royal Swain,
To know who ſhould the Prize of Beauty gain,
Jove ſent his two fair Daughters and his Wife,
That he might be the Judge to end the Strife:
Hermes was Guide, they found him by a Tree,
And thus they ſpake with Air divinely free,
Say, Paris, which is faireſt of us three.
To Jove's high Queen, and the Celeſtial Maids,
E're he wou'd paſs his Sentence, cry'd, No Plaids.
Quickly the Goddeſſes obey'd his Call,
In ſimple Nature's Dreſs he view'd them all,
Then to Cyth'rea gave the Golden Ball.
GREAT Criticks hail! our Dread, whoſe Love or Hate,
Can with a Frown, or Smile, give Verſe its Fate;
Attend, while o'er this Field my Fancy roams,
I've ſomewhat more to ſay, and here it comes.
WHEN Virtue was a Crime, in Tancred's Reign,
There was a noble Youth who wou'd not deign
To own for Sovereign one a Slave to Vice,
Or blot his Conſcience at the higheſt Price;
For which his Death's devis'd with helliſh Art,
To tear from his warm Emil his beating Heart.
Fame told the tragick News to all the Fair,
Whole num'rous Sighs and Groans bound through the Air:
All mourn his Fate, Tears trickle from each Eye,
Till his kind Siſter threw the Woman by;
She in his Stead a gen'rous Off'ring ſtaid,
And he, the Tyrant baulk'd, hid in her Plaid.
So when Æneas with Achilles ſtrove,
The Goddeſs Mother haſted from above,
Well ſeen in Fate, prompt by maternal Love,
Wrapt him in Miſt, and warded off the Blow
That was deſign'd him by his valiant Foe.
I of the Plaid could tell a hundred Tales,
Then hear another, ſince that Strain prevails.
THE Tale no Records tell, it is ſo old,
It happned in the eaſy Age of Gold,
When am'rous Jove Chief of th' Olympian Gods,
Pall'd with Saturnia, came to our Abodes,
A Beauty-hunting; for in theſe ſoft Days,
Nor Gods, nor Men delighted in a Chace
That would deſtroy, not propagate their Race.
Beneath a Fir-Tree in Glentanar's Groves,
Where, e'er gay Fabricks roſe, Swains ſung their Loves,
Iris lay ſleeping in the open Air,
A bright Tartana vail'd the lovely Fair;
The wounded God beheld her matchleſs Charms,
With earneſt Eyes, and graſp'd her in his Arms.
Soon he made known to her, with gaining Skill,
His Dignity, and Import of his Will.
312. Glentanar's Groves] A large Wood in the North of Scotland.
Speak thy Deſire, the Divine Monarch ſaid.
Make me a Goddeſs, cry'd the Scotian Maid,
Nor let hard Fate bereave me of my Plaid.
Be thou the Hand-maid to my mighty Queen,
said Jove, and to the World be often ſeen
With the celeſtial Bow, and thus appear
Clad with theſe radiant Colours as thy Wear.
NOW ſay my Muſe, e're thou forſake the Field,
What Profit does the Plaid to Scotia yield,
Juſtly that claims our Love, Eſteem and Boaſt,
Which is produc'd within our native Coaſt.
On our own Mountains grows the Golden Fleece,
Richer than that which Jaſon brought to Greece
A beneficial Branch of Albion's Trade,
And the firſt Parent of the Tartan Plaid.
Our fair ingenious Ladies Hands prepare
The equal Threeds, and give the Dyes with Care
Thouſands of Artiſts ſullen Hours decoy
On rattling Looms, and view their Webs with Joy:
MAY ſhe be curſt to ſtarve in Frogland Fens,
To wear a Fala ragg'd at both the Ends,
Groan ſtill beneath an antiquated Suit,
And die a Maid at fifty five to boot;
May ſhe turn quaggy Fat, or crooked Dwarff,
Be ridicul'd while primm'd up in her Scarff;
May Spleen and Spite ſtill keep her on the Fret,
And live till ſhe outlive her Beauty's Date;
May all this fall, and more than I have ſaid,
Upon that Wench who diſregards the Plaid.
BUT with the Sun let ev'ry Joy ariſe,
And from ſoft Slumbers lift her happy Eyes;
May blooming Youth be fixt upon her Face,
Till ſhe has ſeen her fourth deſcending Race;
Bleſt with a Mate with whom ſhe can agree,
And never want the fineſt of Bohea
May ne'er the Miſer's Fears make her afraid;
Who joins with me, with me admires the Plaid.
Fala] A little ſquare Cloath wore by the Dutch Women.
Let bright Tartana's henceforth ever ſhine,
And Caledonian Goddeſſes enſhrine.
FAIR Judges to your Cenſure I ſubmit,
If you allow this Poem to have Wit,
I'll look with Scorn upon theſe muſty Fools,
Who only move by old worm-eaten Rules.
But with th' ingenious if my Labours take,
I wiſh them ten Times better for their Sake;
Who ſhall eſteem this vain are in the wrong,
I'll prove the Moral is prodigious ſtrong
I hate to trifle, Men ſhould act like Men,
And for their Country only draw their Sword and Pen.
SCOTS
SONGS.
The happy Lover's Reflections.
THE laſt Time I came o'er the Moor,
I left my Love behind me;
Ye Pow'rs! What Pain do I endure,
When ſoft Idea's mind me:
Soon as the ruddy Morn diſplay'd
The beaming Day enſuing,
I met betimes my lovely Maid,
In fit Retreats for wooing.
BENEATH the cooling Shade we lay,
Gazing and chaſtly ſporting;
We kiſs'd and promis'd Time away,
'Till Night ſpread her black Curtain.
I pitied all beneath the Skies,
Ev'n Kings, when ſhe was nigh me;
In Raptures I beheld her Eyes,
Which could but ill deny me,
SHOU'D I be call'd where Cannons rore,
Where mortal Steel may wound me,
Or caſt upon ſome foreign Shore,
Where Dangers may ſurround me;
Yet hopes again to ſee my Love,
To feaſt on glowing Kiſſes,
Shall make my Cares at Diſtance move,
In Proſpect of ſuch Bliſſes.
IN all my Soul there's not one Place
To let a Rival enter;
Since ſhe excells in ev'ry Grace,
In her my Love ſhall center.
Sooner the Seas ſhall ceaſe to flow,
Their Waves the Alps ſhall cover,
On Greenland Ice ſhall Roſes grow,
Before I ceaſe to love her.
THE next Time I go o'er the Moor
She ſhall a Lover find me,
And that my Faith is firm and pure,
Tho I left her behind me:
Then Hymen's ſacred Bonds ſhall chain
My Heart to her fair Boſom,
There, while my Being does remain,
My Love more freſh ſhall bloſſom.
The Laſs of Peattie's Mill.
THE Laſs of Peattie's Mill,
So bonny, blyth and gay,
In ſpite of all my Skill,
She ſtole my Heart away.
When tedding of the Hay
Bare-headed on the Green,
Love 'midſt her Locks did play,
And wanton'd in her Een.
HER Arms white, round and ſmooth;.
Breaſts riſing in their Dawn,
To Age it wou'd give Youth,
To preſs 'em with his Hand.
Thro' all my Spirits ran
An Extaſy of Bliſs,
When I ſuch Sweetneſs fand
Wrapt in a balmy Kiſs.
WITHOUT the Help of Art,
Like Flowers which grace the Wild,
She did her Sweets impart,
When e'er ſhe ſpoke or ſmil'd.
Her Looks they were ſo mild,
Free from affected Pride,
She me to Love beguil'd;
I wiſh'd her for my Bride.
O had I all that Wealth
Hopeton's high Mountains fill,
Inſur'd long Life and Health,
And Pleaſure at my Will;
I'd promiſe and fulfill,
That none but bonny She,
The Laſs of Peattie's Mill
Shou'd ſhare the ſame wi' me.
26. Hopeton's high Mountains] Thirty three Miles South weſt of Edinburgh,
where the
Right Honourable the Earl of Hopeton's Mines of Gold and Lead are.
DELIA.
To the Tune of Green Sleeves.
YE watchful Guardians of the Fair,
Who skiff on Wings of ambient Air,
Of my dear Delia take a Care,
And repreſent her Lover
With all the Gayety of Youth,
With Honour, juſtice, Love and Truth,
Till I return, her Paſſions ſooth
For me, in Whiſpers move her.
BE careful, no baſe ſordid Slave,
With Soul ſunk in a golden Grave,
Who knows no Virtue but to ſave,
With glaring Gold bewitch her.
Tell her for me ſhe was deſign'd,
For me who know how to be kind,
And have more Plenty in my Mind,
Than one who's ten Times richer.
LET all the World turn upſide down,
And Fools run an eternal Round,
In Queſt: of what can ne'er be found,.
To pleaſe their vain Ambition.
Let little Minds great Charms eſpy
In Shadows which at Diſtance ly,
Whoſe hop'd for Pleaſure when come nigh,
Prove nothing in Fruition.
BUT caſt into a Mold Divine,
Fair Delia does with Luſtre ſhine,
Her virtuous Soul's an ample Mine,
Which yeilds a conſtant Treaſure.
Let Poets in ſublimeſt Lays,
Imploy their Skill her Fame to raiſe;
Let Sons of Muſick paſs whole Days,
With well tun'd Reeds to pleaſe her.
The Yellow-hair'd Laddie.
IN April when Primroſes paint the ſweet Plain,
And Summer approaching rejoiceth the Swain,
The Yellow-hair'd Laddie would oftentimes go
To Wilds and deep Glens where the Hawthorn-trees grow.
THERE under the Shade of an old ſacred Thorn,
With Freedom he ſung his Loves, Ev'ning and Morn;
He ſang with ſo ſoft and inchanting a Sound,
That Silvans and Fairies unſeen danc'd around.
THE Shepherd thus ſung, Tho young Maya be fair,
Her Beauty is daſh'd with a ſcornful proud Air;
But Suſie was handſome, and ſweetly could ſing,
Her Breath like the Breezes perfum'd in the Spring.
THAT Madie in all the gay Bloom of her Youth,
Like the Moon was unconſtant, and never ſpoke Truth;
But Suſie was faithful, good humour'd and free,
And fair as the Goddeſs who ſprung from the Sea.
THAT Mamma's fine Daughter, with all her great Dowr,
Was aukwardly airy, and frequently ſowr
Then ſighing, he wiſhed, would Parents agree,
The witty ſweet Suſie his Miſtreſs might be.
NANNYO.
WILE ſome for Pleaſure pawn their Health,
'Twixt Lais and the Baguio,
I'll ſave my ſelf, and without Stealth,
Kiſs and cards my Nanny — O.
Lais] A famous Corinthian Courtizan.
She bids more fair t' ingage a Jove,
Than Leda did or Danae — O;
Were I to paint the Queen of Love,
None elſe ſhou'd ſit but Nanny — O.
How joyfully my Spirits riſe,
When dancing the moves finely — O,
I gueſs what Heav'n is by her Eyes,
Which ſparkle ſo divinely — O.
Attend my Vow, ye Gods, while I
Breath in the bleſt Britannio,
None's Happineſs I ſhall envy;
As long's ye grant me Nanny — O.
CHORUS.
My bonny, bonny Nanny — O,
My loving charming Nanny — O,
I care not tho the World do know
How dearly I love Nanny — O.
6. Leda and Danae] Two Beauties to whom Jove made Love; to one in the
Figure of a
Swan, to the other in a Golden Shower.
BONNY JEAN.
LOVE's Goddeſs in a Myrtle Grove
Said, Cupid, bend thy Bow with Speed,
Nor let the Shaft at Random rove,
For Jeanie's haughty Heart muſt bleed.
The ſmiling Boy, with divine Art,
From Paphos ſhot an Arrow keen,
Which flew unerring to the Heart,
And kill'd the Pride of bonny Jean.
NO more the Nymph with haughty Air
Refuſes Willie's kind Addreſs;
Her yielding Bluſhes ſhew no Care
But too much Fondneſs to ſuppreſs.
No more the Youth is ſullen now,
But looks the gayeſt on the Green,
Whilſt every Day he ſpies ſome new
Surpriſing Charms in bonny Jean,
A Thouſand Tranſports crowd his Breaſt,
He moves as light as fleeting Wind,
His former Sorrows ſeem a Jeſt,
Now when his Jeanie is turn'd kind:
Riches he looks on with Diſdain,
The glorious Fields of War look mean,
The chearful Hound and Horn give Pain,
If abſent from his bonny Jean.
THE Day he ſpends in am'rous Gaze,
Which even in Summer ſhorten'd ſeems:
When ſunk in Downs with glad Amaze,
He wonders at her in his Dreams.
All Charms diſclos'd, ſhe looks more bright
Than Troy's fair Prize, the Spartan Queen:
With breaking Day he lifts his Sight,
And pants to be with bonny Jean.
The Kind Reception.
To the Tune of Auld lang ſyne.
SHOULD auld Acquaintance be forgot,
Tho they return with Scars?
Theſe are the noble Heroe's Lot,
Obtain'd in glorious Wars:
Welcome my Varo to my Breaſt,
Thy Arms about me twine,
And make me once again as bleſt,
As I was lang ſyne.
METHINKS around us on each Bough,
A Thouſand Cupids play,
Whilſt thro' the Groves I walk with you,
Each Object makes me gay.
Since your Return the Sun and Moon
With brighter Beams do ſhine,
Streams murmur ſoft Notes while they run,
As they did lang ſyne.
DESPISE the Court and Din of State,
Let that to their Share fall;
Who can eſteem ſuch Slav'ry great,
While bounded like a Ball?
But ſunk in Love, upon my Arms
Let your brave Head recline,
We'll pleaſe our ſelves with mutual Charms,
As we did lang ſyne.
O'ER Moor and Dale with your gay Friend
You may purſue the Chace;
And after a blyth Bottle end
All Cares in my Embrace:
And in a vacant rainy Day
You ſhall be wholly mine;
We'll make the Hours run ſmooth away,
And laugh at lang ſyne.
THE Heroe pleas'd with the ſweet Air,
And Signs of gen'rous Love,
Which had been utter'd by the Fair,
Bow'd to the Pow'rs above:
Next Day with Conſent and glad Haſte
Th' approach'd the ſacred Shrine,
Where the good Prieſt the Couple bleſt,
And put them out of Pine.
The PENITENT
To the Tune of the Laſs of Livingſton.
PAIN'D with her ſlighting Jamie's Love,
Bell dropt a Tear, — Bell dropt a Tear,
The Gods deſcended from above,
Well pleas'd to hear, — Well pleas'd to hear.
They heard the Praiſes of the Youth
From her own Tongue, — From her own Tongue,
Who now converted was to Truth,
,And thus ſhe ſung, — And thus ſhe ſung,
BLEST Days when our ingen'ous Sex,
More frank and kind, — More frank and kind,
Did not their lov'd Adorers vex,
But ſpoke their Mind, — But ſpoke their Mind.
Repenting now ſhe promis'd fair,
Wou'd he return, — Wou'd he return,
She ne'er again wou'd give him Care,
Or Cauſe to mourn, — Or Cauſe to mourn.
WHY lov'd I the deſerving Swain,
Yet ſtill thought Shame, — Yet ſtill thought Shame,
When he my yielding Heart did gain,
To own my Flame, — To own my Flame?
Why took I Pleaſure to torment,
And ſeem too coy, — And ſeem too coy?
Which makes me now, alas! lament
My ſlighted Joy, — My ſlighted Joy.
YE Fair, while Beauty's in its Spring,
Own your Deſire, — Own your Deſire;
While Love's young Power with his ſoft Wing.
Fans up the Fire, — Fans up the Fire.
O do not with a ſilly Pride,
Or low Deſign, — Or low Deſign,
Refuſe to be a happy Bride,
But anſwer plain, — But anſwer plain.
THUS the fair Mourner wail'd her Crime,
With flowing Eyes, — With flowing Eyes;
Glad Jamie heard her all the Time,
With ſweet Surpriſe, — With ſweet Surpriſe,
Some God had led him to the Grove,
His Mind unchang'd, — His Mind unchang'd,
Flew to her Arms, and cry'd, My Love,
I am reveng'd, — I am reveng'd!
LOVE's CURE.
To the Tune of Peggy I muſt love thee.
AS from a Rock paſt all Relief,
The Shipwreckt Colin ſpying
His native Home, o'ercome with Grief,
Half ſunk in Waves and dying;
With the next Morning Sun he ſpies
A Ship, which gives unhop'd Surpriſe,
New Life ſprings up, he lifts his Eyes
With Joy, and waits her Motion.
So when by her whom long I lov'd,
I ſcorn'd was and deſerted,
Low with Deſpair my Spirits mov'd,
To be for ever parted:
Thus droopt I, till diviner Grace
I found in Peggy's Mind and Face;
Ingratitude appear'd then baſe,
But Virtue more engaging,
THEN now ſince happily I've hit,
I'll have no more delaying,
Let Beauty yield to manly Wit,
We loſe our ſelves in ſtaying;
I'll haſte dull Courtſhip to a Cloſe,
Since Marriage can my Fears oppoſe,
Why ſhould we happy Minutes loſe,
Since Peggy I muſt love thee?
MEN may be fooliſh, if they pleaſe,
And deem't a Lover's Duty,
To ſigh, and ſacrifice their Eaſe,
Doating on a proud Beauty:
Such was my Caſe for many a Year,
Still Hope ſucceeding to my Fear,
Falſe Betty's Charms now diſappear,
Since Peggy's far outſhine them.
ODE.
HENCE every Thing that can
Diſturb the Quiet of Man;
Be blyth my Soul,
In a Full Bowl
Drown thy Care,
And repair
The vital Stream:
Since Life's a Dream,
Let Wine abound,
And Healths go round,
We'll ſleep more ſound;
And let the dull unthinking Mob purſue
Each endleſs Wiſh, and ſtill their Toil renew.
Beſſy Bell and Mary Gray.
O Beſſy Bell and Mary Gray
They are twa bonny Laſſes,
They bigg'd a Bower on yon Burn-brae,
And theek'd it o'er wi'
Fair Beſſy Bell I loo'd yeſtreen,
And thought I ne'er cou'd alter;
But Mary Gray's twa pawky Een,
They gar my Fancy falter.
NOW Beſſy's Hair's like a Lint Tap,
She ſmiles like a May Morning,
When Phœbus ſtarts frae Thetis' Lap,
The Hills with Rays adorning:
White is her Neck, ſaft is her Hand,
Her Waſte and Feet's fow genty,
With ilka Grace ſhe can command,
Her Lips, O wow! they're dainty.
AND Mary's Locks are like the Craw,
Her Eye like Diamonds glances;
She's ay ſae clean, red-up and brave,
She kills when e'er ſhe dances:
Blyth as a Kid, with Wit at Will,
She blooming tight and tall is;
And guides her Airs ſae gracefou
O Jove! ſhe's like thy Pallas.
DEAR Beſſy Bell and Mary Gray,
Ye unco' ſair oppreſs us,
Our Fancies jee between you twae,
Ye are ſic bonny Laſſes:
Wae's me, for baith I canna get,
To ane by Law we're ſtented;
Then I'll draw Cuts and take my Fate,
And be with ane contented.
The Young LAIRD and Edinburgh KATY.
NOW wat ye wha I met Yeſtreen
Coming down the Street, my Jo,
My Miſtreſs in her Tartan Screen,
Fou bonny, braw and ſweet, my Jo.
My Dear, quoth I, Thanks to the Night
That never wiſht a Lover ill;
Since ye're out of your Mither's Sight,
Let's take a Wauk up to the Hill.
O Katy wiltu gang wi' me,
And leave the dinſom Town a while,
The Bloſſom's ſprouting frae the Tree,
And a' the Summer's gawn to ſmile;
The Mavis, Nightingale and Lark,
The bleeting Lambs and whiſtling Hynd,
In ilka Dale, Green, Shaw and Park,
Will nouriſh Health and glad ye'r Mind.
8. Up to the Hill] The Caſtle-hill, where young People frequently take the
Air on an Evening.
SOON as the clear Goodman of Day
Does bend his Morning Draught of Dew,
We'll gae to ſome Burn-ſide and play,
And gather Flowers to busk ye'r Brow.
We'll you the Daizies on the Green,
The lucken Gowans frae the Bog;
Between Hands now and then we'll lean,
And ſport upo' the Velvet Fog.
THERE'S up into a pleaſant Glen,
A wee Piece frae my Father's Tower,
A canny, ſaft and flowry Den,
Which circling Birks has form'd a Bower
When e'er the Sun grows high and warm,
We'll to the cauller Shade remove,
There will I lock thee in mine Arm,
And love and kiſs, and kiſs and love.
KATY's ANSWER.
MY Mither's ay glowran o'er me,
Tho ſhe did the ſame before me,
I canna get Leave
To look to my Loove,
Or elſe ſhe'll be like to devour me.
RIGHT fain wad I take ye'r Offer,
Sweet Sir, but I'll tine my Tocher,
Then Sandy ye'll fret,
And wyt ye'r poor Kate,
When e'er ye keek in your toom Coffer.
FOR tho my Father has Plenty
Of Siller and Pleniſhing dainty,
Yet he's unco ſweer
To twin wi' his Gear;
And ſae we had need to be tenty.
TUTOR my Parents wi' Caution,
Be wylie in ilka Motion;
Brag well o' ye'r Land,
And there's my leal Hand;
Win them, I'll be at your Devotion.
EDINBURGH's Addreſs
TO THE
COUNTRY.
NOVEMBER 1718.
FROM me Edina, to the Brave and Fair,
Health, Joy and Love, and Baniſhment of Care:
Foraſmuch as bare Fields and gurly Skies
Make rural Scenes ungrateful to the Eyes;
When Hyperborean Blaſts confound the Plain,
Driving, by Turns, light Snow and heavy Rain;
Ye Swains and Nymphs, forſake the withered Grove,
That no damp Colds may nip the Buds of Love;
Since Winds and Tempeſts o'er the Mountains ride,
Haſte here where Choice of Pleaſures do reſide;
Come to my Tow'rs, and leave th' unpleaſant Scene,
My cheerful Boſom ſhall your Warmth ſuſtain,
Screen'd in my Walls, you may bleak Winter ſhun,
And, for a while, forget the diſtant Sun:
My blazing Fires, bright Lamps, and ſparkling Wine,
As Summer Sun ſhall warm, like him ſhall ſhine.
MY witty Clubs of Minds that move at large,
With every Glaſs can ſome great Thought diſcharge;
When from my Senate, and the Toils of Law,
T' unbend the Mind from Bus'neſs you withdraw,
With ſuch gay Friends to laugh ſome Hours away,
My Winter Even ſhall ding the Summer's Day.
MY Schools of Law produce a manly Train
Of fluent Orators, who Right maintain,
Practis'd t' expreſs themſelves a graceful Way,
An Eloquence ſhines forth in all they ſay.
SOME Raphael, Ruben, or Vandike admire,
Whoſe Boſoms glow with ſuch a Godlike Fire.
Of my own Race I have, who ſhall ere long,
Challenge a Place amongſt the immortal Throng.
OTHERS in ſmootheſt Numbers are profuſe,
And can in Mantuan Dactyl's lead the Muſe:
And others can with Muſick make you gay,
With ſweeteſt Sounds Correlli's Art diſplay,
While they arround in ſofteſt Meaſures ſing,
Or beat melodious Solo's from the String.
WHAT Pleaſure can exceed to know what's great,
The Hinge of War, and winding Draughts of State?
Theſe and a Thouſand Things th' aſpiring Youth
May learn, with Pleaſure, from the Sages Mouth;
While they full. fraughted Judgments do unload,
Relating to Affairs Home and Abroad.
The generous Soul is fir'd with noble Flame,
To emulate victorious Eugene's Fame,
Who with freſh Glories decks th' Imperial Throne,
Making the haughty Ott'man Empire grone.
He'll learn when warlike Sweden and the Czar,
The Danes and Pruſſians ſhall demit the War;
T' obſerve what mighty Turns of Fate may ſpring
From this new War rais'd by Iberia's King.
LONG ere the Morn from Eaſtern Seas ariſe,
To ſweep Night-ſhades from off the vaulted Skies,
Oft Love or Law in Dream your Mind may toſs,
And puſh the ſluggiſh Senſes to their Poſts;
The Hautboys diſtant Notes ſhall then oppoſe
Your phantom Cares, and lull you to Repoſe.
TO Viſit and take Tea, the well dreſs'd Fair
May paſs the Crowd unruffled in her Chair;
No Duſt or Mire her ſhining Foot ſhall
Or on the horizontal Hoop give Pain.
For Beaux and Belles no City can compare,
Nor ſhew a Galaxy ſo made, ſo fair;
The Ears are charm'd, and raviſh'd are the Eyes,
When at the Conſort my fair Stars ariſe.
What Poets of fictitious Beauties ſing,
Shall in bright Order fill the dazling Ring:
From Venus, Pallas, and the Spouſe of Jove,
They'd gain the Prize, judg'd by the God of Love:
Their Sun-burnt Features wou'd look dull, and fade,
Compar'd with my ſweet White and bluſhing
The Character of Beauties ſo Divine,
The Muſe for Want of Words cannot define.
The panting Soul beholds with awful Love,
impreſs'd on Clay th' Angelick Forms above,
Whoſe ſofteſt Smiles can pow'rfully impart
Raptures ſublime, in dumb Show, to the Heart.
THE Strength of all theſe Charms, if ye defy,
My Court of Juſtice ſhall make you comply.
Welcome, my Seſſion, thou my Boſom warms,
Thrice three Times welcome to thy Mother's Arms:
Thy Father long, rude Man! has left my Bed,
Thou'rt now my Guard, and Support of my Trade;
My Heart yearns after thee with ſtrong Deſire,
Thou deareſt Image of thy ancient Sire:
Should proud Auguſta take thee from me too,
So great a Loſs would make Edina bow;
I'd ſink beneath a Weight I cou'd not bear,
And in a Heap of Rubbiſh diſappear.
VAIN are ſuch Fears; I'll rear my Head in State,
My bodding Heart foretells a glorious Fate:
New ſtately Structures on new Streets ſhall riſe,
And new-built Churches tow'ring to the Skies.
From utmoſt Thule to the Dover Rock,
Britain's beſt Blood in Crowds to me ſhall flock;
A num'rous Fleet ſhall be my Fortha's Pride,
While they in her calm Roads at Anchor ride:
Theſe from each Coaſt ſhall bring what's Great and Rare,
To animate the Brave, and pleaſe the Fair.
Written beneath the Hiſtorical Print of the wonderful
Preſervation of Mr. David Bruce, and
others his School-fellows,
St. Andrews, Auguſt 19. 1710.
SIX Times the Day with Light and Hope aroſe,
As oft the Night her Terrors did oppoſe,
While toſs'd on roring Waves the tender Crew
Had nought but Death and Horror in their View:
Pale Famine, Seas, bleak Cold at equal Strife,
Conſpiring all againſt their Bloom of Life:
Whilſt like the Lamp's laſt Flame, their trembling Souls
Are on the Wing to leave their mortal Goals;
And Death before them ſtands with frightful Stare,
Their Spirits ſpent, and ſunk down to deſpair.
BEHOLD th' indulgent providential Eye;
With watchful Rays deſcending from on high;
Angels come poſting down the Divine-Beam
To ſave the Helpleſs in their laſt Extreme:
Unſeen the heav'nly Guard about them flock,
Some rule the Winds, ſome lead them up the Rock,
While other Two attend the dying Pair,
To waft their young white Souls thro' Fields of Airs.
CHRIST'S KIRK
ON THE
GREEN
In Three CANTO's.
Κονσιδερ ίτ όυαριλι ρίδ άφτνήρ θάν έ́νις,
όυὶλ άτ έν βλὶνϰ σλὶ ϖόετρι νὸτ τέν
ίς .
CANTO 1.
WAS ne'er in Scotland heard or ſeen
Sic Dancing and Deray;
Nowther at Fakland on the Green,
Nor Peebles at the Play,
This Edition of the firſt Canto is taken from an old Manuſcript
Collection of Scots Poems
Written 150 Years ago, where it is found that James, the firſt of that
Name, King of Scots,
was the Author; thought to be wrote while that brave and learned Prince was
unfortunately
kept Priſoner in England by Henry VI. about the Year 1412. Ballenden in
his Tranſlation
of H. Boece's Hiſtory, gives this Character of him, He mar weil lernit to
fecht with
the Swerd, to iuſt, to turnay, to worſyl, to ſyng and dance, was an
expert Medicinar, richt
crafty in playing baith of Lute and Harp, and ſindry othir Inſtrumentis
of Muſik. He was expert
in Gramer, Oratry and Poetry, and maid ſae flowand and ſententious
Verſis, apperit weil be
was ane natural and borne Poete, lib. 16. cap. 16.
3. Fakland] In the Shire of Fife where our Kings for ſome Time had their
Reſidence.
4. Peebles at the Play] Peebles one of Our Royal Burroughs where the
Gentlemen of the
Shire frequently meet for the Diverſion of Horſe-Races and the like.
As was of Woers, as I ween,
At Chriſt's Kirk on a Day;
There came our Kitties waſhen clean,
In new Kitties of Gray,
Fou gay that Day.
To dance theſe Dameſels them dight,
Thir Laſſes light of Laits,
Their Gloves were of the Raffel right,
Their Shoon were of the Straits,
Their Kirtles were of Lincome light,
Well preſt with mony Plaits,
They were ſo nice when Men them nicht,
They ſqueel'd like ony Gaits
Fou loud that Day.
OF all theſe Maidens mild as Mead,
Was nane ſae jimp as Gilly,
6. Chrisſt's Kirk] The Place where our Wedding held is either at Leſly
(the Church there
bearing than Name) or a Place ſo named a little diſtant from Windſor
where out King
was the Time of his Confinement.
9. Them dight] Made themſelves ready.
10. Light of Laits] Light or wanton in their Manners.
13. Lincome Light] Stuff made at Lincoln.
As ony Roſe her Rude was red,
Her Lire was like the Lilly:
Fou yellow, yellow was her Head,
But ſhe of Love was ſilly;
Tho a' her Kin had ſworn her dead,
She wald have but ſweet Willy
Alane that Day.
SHE ſcorned Jack, and ſcraped at him,
And murgeon'd him with Mocks;
He wad have loo'd, ſhe wad na lat him,
For a' his yellow Locks.
He cheriſht her, ſhe bade gae chat him,
Counted him not twa Clocks;
Sae ſhamefully his ſhort Gown ſet him,
His Legs were like twa Rocks,.
Or Rungs that Day.
26. Murgeon'd him] Ridicul'd him, by a ludicrous manner of aping his Gate
or Actions.

29. Go chat him] She bid him go hang himſelf.
30. Twa Clocks] Reckoned him not worth a Couple of Beetles.
32. Twa Rocks] Two Diſtaffs. This Deſcription of Gilly's Love to Willy,
and her deſpiſing
Jack, notwithſtanding his Affection to her, is drawn with an admirable
comick Delicacy.

Tam Lutter was their Minſtrel meet,
Good Lord how he cou'd lance,
He play'd ſaw ſhill, and ſang ſae ſweet,
While Touſie took a Trance;
Auld Lightfoot there he did forleet,
And counterfeited France:
He us'd himſelf as Man diſcreet,
And up the Morice Dance
He took that Day.
THEN Steen came ſleppand in with Stends,
Nae Rink might him arreſt:
Plaitfoot did bob with mony Bends,
For Mauſe he made Requeſt;
He lap till he lay on his Lends,
But riſand was ſae preſt,
While that he hoſtit at baith Ends,
For honour of the Feaſt,
And danc'd that Day.
33. Minſtrel meet] A Muſician fit for them.
37. Auld Lightfoot there he did forleet, and counterfeited France] He
forgot to play the
good old Scots Tunes like Auld Lightfoot and imitated the French, like our
modern Minſtrels,
that dare play nought but ltaliano's, for fear thev ſpoil their Fiddles
42. Nae Rink might him arreſt] The ſwifteſt Courſe could not ſtop him.
SYNE Robin Roy began to revel,
And Dawny to him rugged:
Let be, quoth Jack, and cau'd him Jevel,
And by the Tail him tugged;
The Kenſie cleekit to a Gavel,
But Lord as they twa lugged;
They parted manly on a Navel
Men ſay that Hair was rugged
Between them twa.
ANE bent a Bow, ſic Sturt did ſteer him,
Great Skaith was't to have ſcar'd him;
He cheſit a Flane as did affear him,
Th' other ſaid, Dirdum, Dardum:
Throw baith the Cheeks he thought to ſheer him,
Or throw the Arſe have char'd him;
B' ane Akerbraid it came na neer him,
I canna tell what marr'd him
Sae wide that Day.
59. He cheſit a Flane] He choſe an Arrow.
60. Dirdum, Dardum] A ſlighting manner of ſpeaking. When one makes a
Boaſt of
ſome Action which we think but meanly of, we readily ſay, A Dirdum of
that.
WITH that a Friend of his cry'd, Fy,
And up an Arrow drew;
He forged it ſae furiouſly,
The Bow in Flinders flew:
Sae was the Will of God, trow I,
For had the Tree been true,
Men ſaid, wha kend his Archery,
That he had ſlain anew,
Belyve that Day.
A yap young Man that ſtood him neiſt,
Loos'd aff a Shot with Ire,
He etled the Bairn in at the Breaſt,
The Bolt flew o'er the Bire:
Ane cry'd, Fy, he has ſlain a Prieſt,
A Mile beyond a Mire;
Then Bow and Bag frae him he kieſt,
And fled as fierce as Fire
Frae Flint that Day.
75. He etled the Bairn] He deſign'd his Arrow at the Lad's Breaſt.
76. The Bolt flew o'er the Bire ] He expreſſes his miſſing him, by a
Metaphor of a
Thonder-bolt flying over the Bire or Cow-houſe.
ANE haſty Henſure, called Hary,
Wha was ane Archer, hynd
Fit up a Tackle withoutten tarry,
That Torment ſae him tynd.
I watna whither's Hand cou'd vary,
Or the Man was his Friend;
For he eſcap'd throw' Mights of Mary,
As ane that nae ill mean'd,
But Good that Day,
THEN Laurie like a Lion lap,
And ſoon a Flane can fedder;
He hecht to pierce him at the Pap.
Thereon to wed a Wedder:
He hit him on the Wame a Wap,
It bufft like ony Bladder;
But ſae his Fortune was and Hap,
His Doublet made of Leather
Sav'd him that Day.
83. Hynd fit up Tackle, &c.] Immediately made ready his ſhooting Tackle.
84. That Torment ſae him tynd] His Vexation made him angry.
90. A Flame can fedder] Feathered an Arrow.
92. Wed a Wedder] He wagered a Wedder he would pierce him at the Pap.
THE Buff ſae boiſterouſly abaiſt him,
He to the Earth duſht down;
The tither Man for dead there left him;
And fled out of the Town.
The Wives came furth, and up they reſt him,
And fand Life in the Lown
Then with three Routs on's Arſe they rais'd him,
And cur'd him out of Sown,
Frae Hand that Day.
WITH Forks and Flails they lent great Slaps,
And flang together like Frigs;
With Bougers of Barns they beſt blew Caps,
While they of Bairns made Brigs.
The Rierd raiſe rudely with the Raps,
When Rungs were laid on Riggs;
The Wives came forth wi' Crys and Claps,
See where my Liking liggs
Fou low this Day!
107. Bougers] Rafters.
112. My Liking liggs] My Sweet-heart lies on the Ground.
THEY girned and let Gird with Grains;
Ilk Goſſip other griev'd:
Some ſtrake with Stings, ſome gatheed Stains,
Some fled and ill miſchiev'd.
The Minſtrel wan within twa Wains,
That Day he wiſely priev'd;
For he came hame wi' unbruis'd Bains,
Where Fighters were miſchiev'd
Fou ill that Day.
HEICH Hutchon with-a Hiſil Rice,
To red can throw them rummil;
He maw'd them down like ony Mice,
He was na Baity Bummil:
Tho he was wight, he was na wiſe,
With ſic Jangleurs to jummil;
For frae his Thumb they dang a Slice,
While he cry'd, Barlafumil,
I'm ſlain this Day.
117. Wan within two Wains] Got between two Wain or Wagons, and hid
himſelf.
124. Baity Bummil] Or petty Fumbler; An actionleſs Fellow.
128. Barlafumil] Cry'd, Barley, or, A Parleyfumil, I'm fallen.
WEALTH, or the WOODY.
A POEM on the
SOUTH SEA
Wrote June 1720.
Illi robur & æs triplex
Circa pectus erat, qui fragilem truci
Commiſit pelago ratem
Primus, —
HOR.
Daring and unco' ſtout he was,
With Heart hool'd in three Sloughs of Braſs,
Wha ventur'd firſt upon the Sea
With Hempen Branks, and Horſe of Tree.
THALIA ever welcome to this Iſle,
Deſcend, and glad the Nation with a Smile;
See frae yon Bank where South-Sea ebbs and flows,
How Sand-blind Chance Woodies and Wealth beſtows:
1. Thalia ever welcome] Thalia the chearful Muſe that delights to imitate
the Actions of
Mankind, and produces the laughing Comedy. — That Kind of Poetry ever
acceptable
to Britons.
Aided by thee, I'll ſail the wondrous Deep,
And throw the crowded Alleys cautious creep.
Not eaſy Task to plough the ſwelling Wave,
Or in Stock-jobbing Preſs my Guts to ſave:
But naething can our wilder Paſſions tame,
Wha rax for Riches or immortal Fame.
LONG had the Grumblers us'd this murm'ring Sound,
Poor Britain in her Publick Debt is drown'd!
At fifty Millions late we ſtarted a',
And wow we wonder'd how the Debt wad fa';
But ſonſy Sauls wha firſt contriv'd the Way,
With Project deep our Charges to defray;
O'er and aboon it Heaps of Treaſure brings,
That Fouk be gueſs become as rich as Kings.
Lang Heads they were that firſt laid down the Plan,
Into the which the Round anes headlang ran,
Till overſtockt, they quat the Sea, and fain wa'd been at
Land.
21. Fain wad be at Land] Land, in the Time of this Golden two or three
Months, was
ſold at 45, or 50 Years Purchaſe.
Thus when braid Flakes of Snaw have clade the Green,
Aften I have young ſportive Gilpies ſeen,
The waxing Ba' with meikle Pleaſure row,
Till paſt their Pith, it did unwieldy grow.
'Tis ſtrange to think what Changes may appear
Within the narrow Circle of a Year.
How can ae Project, if it be well laid,
Supply the ſimple Want of trifling Trade!
Saxty lang Years a Man may rack his Brain,
Hunt after Gear baith Night and Day wi' Pain,
And die at laſt in Debt, inſtead of Gain.
But O South-Sea! What mortal Mind can run
Throw a' the Miracles that thou haſt done?
Nor ſcrimply thou thy fell to bounds confines,
But like the Sun on ilka Party ſhines.
To Poor and Rich, the Fools as well as Wiſe,
With Hand impartial ſtretches out the Prize.
92. Trifling Trade] All Manner of Traffick and Mechanicks was at that Time
deſpiſed
Subſcriptions and Transfers were the only Commodities.
LIKE Nilus ſwelling frae his unkend Head,
Frae Bank to Brae o'erflows ilk Rig and Mead,
Inſtilling lib'ral Store of genial Sap,
Whence Sun-burn'd Gypſies reap a plenteous Crap:
Thus flows our Sea, but with this Diff'rence wide,
But anes a Year their River heaves his Tide;
Ours aft ilk Day, t' enrich the Common Weal,
Bangs o'er its Banks, and dings Ægyptian Nile.
YE Rich and Wiſe, we own Succeſs your due,
But your Reverſe their Luck with Wonder view.
How without Thought theſe dawted Petts of Fate
Have jobb'd themſelves into ſae high a State,
By pure Inſtinct ſae leal the Mark have hit,
Without the Uſe of either Fear or Wit.
And ithers wha laſt Years their Garrets kept,
Where Duns in Viſion faſh'd them while they ſlept;
39. Like Nilus] A River which croſſes a great Part of Africa; the Spring
head thereof
unknown till of late. In the Month of June it ſwells and overflows Egypt.
When it riſes
too high, the Innundation is dangerous, and threatens a Famine. In this
River are the
monſtrous amphibious Animals named Crocodiles, of the ſame Specie with
the late Alligators
of the South-Sea, which make a Prey of, and devour all humane Creatures
they can lay
hold on.
48. Tour Reverſe] Poor Fools.
52. Of either Fear or Wit] One was reckoned a timorous thinking Fool who
took Advice
of his Reaſon in the grand Affair.
Wha only durſt in Twilight or the Dark,
Steal to a common Cook's with haff a Mark,
A' their hale Stock. — Now by a kanny Gale,
In the o'erflowing Ocean ſpread their Sail,
While they in gilded Galleys cut the Tide,
Look down on Fiſher Boats wi' meikle Pride.
MEAN time the Thinkers wha are out of Play,
For their ain Comfort kenna what to ſay;
That the Foundation's looſe fain wa'd they thaw,
And think na but the Fabrick ſoon will fa'.
That's a' but Sham, — for inwardly they fry,
Vext that their Fingers were na in the Pye.
Faint-hearted Wights, wha dully ſtood afar,
Tholling your Reaſon great Attempts to mar;
While the brave Dauntleſs, of ſic Fetters free,
Jumpt headlong glorious in the golden Sea:
60. Look damn on Fiſher Boats ] Deſpis'd the virtuous Deſign of
propagating and carrying
on a Fiſhery, which can never fail to he a real Benefit to Britain.
61. The Thinkers ] Many of juft Thinking at that Time were vex'd to ſee
themſelves
trudging on Foot, when ſome others of very indifferent Capacities were
ſetting up gilded
Equipages; and notwithſtanding of all the Doubts they formed againſt it,
yet fretted becauſe
they were not ſo lucky as to have ſome Shares.
70. Jumps headlong ] Threw off all the Fetters of Reaſon, and plung'd
gloriouſly into
Confuſion.
Where now like Gods they rule each wealthy Jaw,
While you may thump your Pows againſt the Wa'.
ON Summers E'en the Welkin cawm and fair,
When little Midges frisk in lazy Air,
Have ye not ſeen thro' ither how they reel,
And Time about how up and down they wheel?
Thus Eddies of Stock-jobbers drive about;
Upmoſt to Day, the Morn their Pipe's put out.
With penſive Face, when e'er the Market's hy,
Minutius crys, Ah! what a Gowk was I.
Some Friend of his, wha wiſely ſeems to ken
Events of Cauſes mair than ither Men,
Puſh for your Intereſt yet, Nae Fear, he crys,
For South-Sea will to twice ten hunder riſe.
Waes me for him that ſells paternal Land,
And buys when Shares the higheſt Sums demand:
He ne' er ſhall taſte the Sweets of riſing Stock,
Which faws neiſt Day: Nae Help for't, he is broke.
81. Who miſerly] With Grave Faces many at that Time pretended they could
demonſtrate
this hop'd for Riſe of South-Sea.
DEAR Sea, be tenty how thou flows at Shams
Of Hogland Gad'rens in their Froggy Dams,
Left in their muddy Boggs thou chance to ſink,
Where thou may'ſt ſtagnate, ſyne of Courſe maun ſtink.
THIS I forſee, (and Time ſhall prove I'm right;
For he's nae Poet wants the ſecond Sight,)
When Autumn's Stores are ruck'd up in the Yard,
And Sleet and Snaw dreeps down cauld Winter's Beard;
When bleak November Winds make Forreſts bare,
And with ſplenetick Vapours fill the Air:
Then, then in Gardens, Parks, or ſilent Glen,
When Trees bear naething elſe, they'll carry Men,
Wha ſhall like paughty Romans greatly ſwing
Aboon Earth's Diſappointments in a String.
Sae ends the towring Saul that downa ſee
A Man move in a higher Sphere than he.
HAPPY that Man wha has thrawn up a Main,
Which makes ſome Hundred thouſands a' his ain,
90. Hogland Gad'rens] The Dutch, whom a learned Author of a late Eſſav
has endeavoured
to prove to be deſcended atter a ſtrange Manner from the Gaderens; which
Eſſay
Lewis the XIV. was mightily pleas'd with, and bounteouſly rewarded the
Author.
And comes to anchor on ſae firm a Rock,
Britannia's Credit, and the South-Sea Stock.
Ilk blythſome Pleaſure waits upon his Nod,
And his Dependants eye him like a God.
Cloſs may he bend Champain frae E'en to Morn,
And look on Cells of Tippony with Scorn.
Thrice lucky Pimps, or ſmug-fac'd wanton Fair,
That can in a' his Wealth and Pleaſure skair.
Like Jove he ſits, like Jove, high Heavens Goodman,
While the inferiour Gods about him ſtand,
Till he permits with condeſcending Grace,
That ilka ane in Order take their Place.
Thus with attentive Look mensſow they ſit,
Till he ſpeak firſt, and ſhaw ſome ſhining Wit;
Syne circling wheels the flattering Gaffaw,
As well they may, he gars their Beards wag a'.
Imperial Gowd, What is't thou canna grant?
Poſſeſt of thee, What is't a Man needs want?
122. Their Beards wag a'] Feaſts them at his own proper Coſt; hence the
Proverb,
Tis fair in Ha', where Beards wag a'.
Commanding Coin, there's nathing hard to thee,
I canna gueſs how rich Fowk come to die.
UNHAPPY Wretch, link'd to the threed-bare Nine,
The dazling Equipage can ne'er be thine:
Deſtin'd to toil thro' Labyrinths of Verſe,
Dar'ſt ſpeak of great Stock-jobbing as a Farce.
Poor thoughtleſs Mortal, vain of airy Dreams,
Thy flying Horſe, and bright Apollo's Beams,
And Helicon's werſh Well thou ca's Divine,
Are nathing like a Miſtreſs, Coach and Wine.
Wad ſome good Patron (whaſe ſuperior Skill
Can make the South Sea ebb and flow at Will,)
Put in a Stock for me, I own it fair,
In Epick Strain I'd pay him to a Hair;
Immortalize him, and what e'er he loves,
In flowing Numbers I ſhall ſing, Approves;
If not, Fox like, I'll thraw my Gab, and gloom,
And ca.' your Hundred Thoufand a ſour Plum.
142. A ſour Plum] The Fox in the Fable that deſpiſed the Plumbs he could
nor reach, is
well known. 100000 Pounds being called a Plumb, make this a right Pun; and
ſome Puns
deſerve not to be claſs'd amongſt low Wit, tho the Generality of them
do.
The Proſpect of Plenty:
A
POEM
ON THE
North-Sea Fishery,
Inſcribed to the Right Honourable the Royal
Burrows of Scotland.
— Βαιω̗̃ δε ϖόνω̗ μέγα ϰερδός όπηδέι
Opian. Halieutic. Lib. III.
THALIA anes again in blythſome Lays,
In Lays immortal chant the North-Sea's Praiſe.
Tent how the Caledonians lang ſupine,
Begin, mair wiſe, to open baith their Een;
And, as they ought, t'imploy that Store which Heav'n
In ſic Abundance to their Hands has given.
Sae heedleſs Heir, born to a Lairdſhip wide,
That yields mair Plenty than he kens to guide;
Not well acquainted with his ain good Luck,
Lets ilka ſneaking Fellow take a Pluck;
Till at the Lang-run, wi' a Heart right fair,
He ſees the Bites grow bein, as he grows bare:
Then wak'ning, looks about with glegger Glour,
And learns to thrive, wha ne'er thought on't before.
NAE Nation in the Warld can parallel
The plenteous Product of this happy Iſle:
But Paſt'ral Heights, and ſweet prolifick Plains,
That can at Will command the fafteſt Strains.
Stand yont; for Amphitrite claims our Sang,
Wha round fair Thule drives her finny Thrang,
O'er Shaws of Coral, and the Pearly Sands,
To Scotia's ſmootheſt Lochs and Chriſtal Strands.
There keeps the Tyrant Pike his awfu' Court,
Here Trouts and Salmond in clear Channels ſport.
19. Amphitrite] The Wife of Neptune.
20. Thule] The Northern Iſlands of Scotland are allow'd by all to be the
Thule of the Antients.

Wae to that Hand, that dares by Day or Night
Defile the Stream where ſporting Fries delight.
But Herrings, lovely Fiſh, like beſt to play
In rowan Ocean, or the open Bay:
In Crouds amazing thro the Waves they ſhine,
Millions on Millions form ilk equal Line:
Nor dares th' imperial Whale, unleſs by Stealth,
Attack their firm united Common-wealth.
But artfu' Nets, and Fiſhers' wylie Skill,
Can bring the ſcaly Nations to their Will.
When theſe retire to Caverns of the Deep,
Or in their oozy Beds thro' Winter ſleep,
Then ſhall the tempting Bait, and ſtented String,
Beguile the Cod, the Sea-Cat, Tusk, and Ling.
Thus may our Fiſhery thro' a' the Year
Be ſtill imploy'd, t' increaſe the publick Gear.
DELYTFOU' Labour, where the Induſtrious gains
Profit ſurmounting ten Times a' his Pains.
25.Wae to that Hand, &c.] There are Acts of Parliament, which ſeverely
prohibite ſteeping
of Lint, or any other way defiling theſe clear Rivers where Salmond
abound.
Nae Pleaſure like Succeſs; then Lads ſtand be,
Ye'll find it endleſs in the Northern-Sea,
O'er Lang with empty Brag we have been vain
Of Loom Dominion on the plenteous Main,
While others ran away with a' the Gain.
Thus proud Iberia vaunts of ſov'reign Sway
O'er Countries rich, frae Riſe to Set of Day;
She graſps the Shadow, but the Subſtance tines,
While a' the reſt of Europe milk her Mines.
BUT dawns the Day ſets Britain on her Feet,
Lang look'd for's come at laſt, and welcome be't:
For numerous Fleets ſhall hem Æbudan Rocks,
Commanding Seas, with Rowth to raiſe our Stocks.
Nor can this be a toom Chimera found,
The Fabrick's bigget on the ſureſt Ground.
Sma is our need to toil on foreign Shores,
When we have baith the Indies at our Doors.
Yet, for Diverſion, laden Veſſels may
To far aff Nations cut the liquid Way;
48. Iberia] Spain.
54. Æbudan Rocks] The Lews, and other Weſtern Iſlands.
And fraught frae ilka Port what's nice or braw,
While for their Trifles we maintain them a'.
Goths, Vandals, Gauls, Heſperians, and the Moors,
Shall a' be treated frae our happy Shores:
The rantin Germans, Ruſſians, and the Poles,
Shall feaſt with Pleaſure on our guſty Sholes:
For which deep in their Treaſures we ſhall dive:
Thus, by fair Trading, North-Sea Stock ſhall thrive.
SAE far the bonny Proſpect gave delight,
The warm Ideas gart the Muſe take Flight:
When ſtraight a Grumbletonian appears,
Peghing fou fair beneath a Lade of Fears:
"Wow! That's braw News, quoth he, to make Fools fain,
"But gin ye be nae Warluck, How d'ye ken?
"Does Tam the Rhimer ſpae oughtlins of this?
"Or do ye propheſy juſt as ye wiſh?
"Will Projects thrive in this abandon'd Place?
"Unſonſy we had ne'er ſae meikle Grace.
76. Tam the Rhimer] Thomas Learmond, alias the Rhimer, liv'd in the Reign
of Alexander
III. King of Scots, and is held in great Eſteem by the Vulgar for his dark
Predictions.
"I fear, I fear, your towring Aim fa' ſhort,
"Make we winn o'er far frae King and Court?
"The Southerns will with Pith your Project bauk,
"They'll never thole this great Deſign to tak.
THUS do the Dubious ever countermine,
With Party wrangle, ilka fair Deſign.
How can a Saul that has the Uſe of Thought,
Be to ſic little creeping Fancies brought?
Will Britain's King or Parliament gainſtand
The univerſal Profit of the Land?
Now whennae ſep'rate Intereſt eags to Strife,
The ancient Nations join'd like Man and Wife,
Maun ſtudy cloſs for Peace and Thriving's ſake,
Aff a' the wiſſen'd Leaves of Spite to ſhake:
Let's weave and fiſh to ane anither's Hands,
And never mind wha ſerves or wha commands;
But baith alike conſult the Common Weal,
Happy that Moment Friendſhip makes us leal
To Truth and Right, — Then ſprings a ſhining Day,
Shall Clouds of ſma' Miſtakes drive faſt away.
Miſtakes and private Int'reſt hence be gane,
Mind what ye did on dire Pharſalia's Plain,
Where doughty Romans were by Romans ſlain.
A meaner phantom neiſt, with meikle Dread,
Attacks with ſenſeleſs Fears the weaker Head.
"The Dutch, ſay they, will ſtrive your Plot to ſtap,
"They'll toom their Banks before you reap their Crap:
"Lang have they ply'd that Trade like biſy Bees,
"And ſuck'd the Profit of the Pictland Seas,
"Thence Riches fiſh'd mair by themſelves confeſt,
"Than e'er they made by India's Eaſt and Weſt.
O mighty fine, and greatly was it ſpoke!
Maun bauld Britannia bear Batavia's Yoke
May ſhe not open her ain Pantry-door,
For fear the paughty State ſhou'd gi'e a Roar?
Dare ſhe nane of her Herrings ſel or prive,
Afore ſhe ſay, Dear Matkie wi' ye'r leave?
Curie on the Wight wha tholes a Thought ſae tame,
He merits not the manly Briton's Name.
Grant they're good Allies, yet it's hardly wiſe,
To buy their Friendſhip at ſae high a Price.
But frae that Airth we needna fear great Skaith,
Theſe People, right auldfaran, will be laith
To thwart a Nation, wha with Eaſe can draw
Up ilka Sluce they have, and drown them a'.
AH ſlothfu' Pride! a Kingdom's greateſt Curſe,
How dowf looks Gentry with an empty Purſe?
How worthleſs is a poor and haughty Drone,
Wha thowleſs ſtands a lazy Looker on?
While active Sauls a ſtagnant Life deſpiſe,
Still raviſh'd with new Pleaſures as they riſe.
O'er lang, in Troth, have we By-ſtanders been,
And loot Fowk lick the White out of our Een:
Nor can we wyt them, fence they had our Vote;
But now they'ſe get the Wiſtle of their Groat.
HERE did the Muſe intend a while to reſt,
Till hame o'er ſpitefu' Din her Lugs oppreſt;
132. And loot Fowk lick, &c.] This Phraſe is always applied when People
with Pretence
of Friendſhip, do you an ill Turn, as one licking a Mote out of your Eye
makes it Blood--
ſhot.
Anither Sett of the envyfou Kind
(With narrow Notions horridly confin'd)
Wag rheir boſs Noddles; ſyne with ſilly Spite
Land ilka worthy Project in a Bite.
They force with aukward Girn their Ridicule,
And ca' ilka ane concern'd a ſimple Fool,
Excepting ſome, wha a' the leave will nick,
And gie them nought but bare Whop-ſhafts to lick.
MALICIOUS Envy! Root of a' Debates,
The Plague of Government and Bane of States;
The Nurſe of poſitive deſtructive Strife,
Fair Friendſhip's Fae, which ſowrs the Sweets of Life;
Promoter of Sedition and baſe Fead,
Still overjoy'd to ſee a Nation bleed.
Stap, ſtap, my Laſs, forgetna where ye'r gawn,
If ye rin on, Heav'n kens where ye may land;
Turn to your Fiſhers Sang, and let Fowk ken
The North-Sea Skippers are leal-hearted Men,
151. Laſs] The Muſe.
154. North-Sea Skippers] The Managers.
Vers'd in the critick Seaſons of the Year,
When to ilk Bay the Fiſhing-Buſh ſhould flea
There to hawl up with Joy the plenteous Fry,
Which on the Decks in ſhining Heaps ſhall ly;
Till carefou Hands, even while they've vital Heat,
Shall be employ'd to ſave their Juices ſweet:
Strick Tent they'll tak to ſtow them wi' ſtrang Brine,
In Barrels tight, that ſhall nae Liquor tine;
Then in the foreign Markets we ſhall ſtand
With upright Front, and the firſt Sale demand.
This, this our faithfou Truſtees have in View,
And honourably will the Task Purſue:
Nor are they bigging Caſtles in a Cloud,
Their Ships already into Action ſcud.
NOW, dear ill-naturd Billies, ſay nae mair,
But leave the Matter to their prudent Care:
They're Men of Candor, and right well they wate
That Truth and Honeſty hads Lang the Gate:
159. Vital Heat] 'Tis a vaſt Advantage to cure them immediately after they
are taken.
161. Strang Brine] Foreign Salt.
168. Into Action ſcud] Several large Ships are already imploy'd, and took
in their Salt and.
Barrels a Month ago.
172. Hads lang the Gate] Holds long up its Head, longeſt keeps the high
Way or Gate.
Shouder to Shouder let's Hand firm and ſtout,
And there's nae Fear but well ſoon make it out;
We've Reaſon, Law, and Nature on our Side,
And have nae Bars, but Party, Slowth, and Pride.
WHEN a's in Order, as it ſoon will be,
And Fleets of Buſhes fill the Northern-Sea,
What hopefou' Images with Joy ariſe,
In Order rang'd before the Muſe's Eyes?
A Wood of Maſts, — well mann'd, —, their jovial Din,
Like eydent Bees gawn out and coming in.
Here haff a Nation, healthfou, wiſe, and ſtark,
With Spirits only tint for want of Wark,
Shall now find Place their Genius to exert,
While in the common Good they act their Part.
Theſe, fit for Servitude, ſhall bear a Hand,
And theſe find Government form'd for Command.
Beſides, this as a Nurſery ſhall breed
Stout skill'd Marines, when Britains Navies need.
Pleas'd with their Labour, when their Task is done,
They'll leave green Thetis to embrace the Sun:
Then freſheſt Fiſh ſhall on the Brander Bleez,
And lend the biſy Browner-wife a Heez:
While healthfou Hearts ſhall own their honeſt Flame,
With reaming Quaff, and whomelt to her Name,
Whaſe active Motion to his Heart did reach,
As ſhe the Cods was turning on the Beech.
Curs'd Poortith, Love, and Hymen's deadly Fae,
(That gars young Fowk in Prime cry aft, Oh hey,
And ſingle live, till Age and Runkles ſhaw
Their canker'd Spirit's good for nought at a';)
Now flit your Camp, far frae our Confines ſcour,
Our Lads and Laſſes ſoon ſhall ſlight your Power;
For Rowth ſhall cheriſh Love, and Love ſhall bring
Mae Men t'improve the Soil and ſerve the King.
Thus univerſal Plenty ſhall produce
Strength to the State, and Arts for Joy and Uſe.
O Plenty, thou Delyt of great and ſma,
Thou nervous Sinnow of baith War and Law
158. The Beech] The Beech is a Number of big Stones, where they dry the Cod
and Ling.
The Stateſman's Drift, Spur to the Artiſt's Skill,
Nor does the very Flamens like thee ill;
The ſhabby Poet hate thee! That's a Lye,
Or elſe they are nae of a Mind wi' me.
PLENTY ſhall cultivate ilk Scawp and Moor,.
Now Lee and bare, becauſe the Landlord's poor.
On ſcroggy Braes ſhall Akes and Aſhes grow,
And bonny Gardens clead the brecken How.
Does others backward dam the raging Main,
So Raiſing on barren Sands a flowry Plain
By us then ſhou'd the Thought o't be endur'd,
To let braid Tracts of Land ly unmanur'd?
Uncultivate nae mair they ſhall appear,
But ſhine with a' the Beauties of the Year;
Which ſtaart with Eaſe frae the obedient Soil,.
And ten Times o'er reward a little Toil.
ALANG wild Shores, where tumbling Billows break,
Pleniſht with nought but Shells and Tangle-Wreck,
372. Flamens] Prieſts.
379. The raging Main] The Dutch have gain'd a great Deal from the Sea.
Braw Towns ſhall riſe, with Steeples mony a ane,
And Houſes bigget a' with Eſtler Stane:
Where Schools polite ſhall lib'ral Arts diſplay,
And make auld barb'rous Darkneſs fly away.
NOW Nereus riſing frae his watry Bed,
The Pearly Drops hap down his lyart Head;
Oceanus with Pleaſure hears him ſing,
Tritons and Nereids form a jovial Ring;
And dancing on the deep, Attention draw,
While a' the Winds in Love, but sighing, blaw.
The Sea-born Prophet ſang in ſweeteſt Strain,
"Britons be blyth, fair queen of Iſles be fain;
"A richer People never ſaw the Sun:
"Gang tightly throw what fairly you've begun;
"Spread a' your Sails and Streamers in the Wind,
"For ilka Power in Sea and Air's your Friend;
"Great Neptune's unexhauſted Bank has Store
"Of endleſs Wealth, will gar yours a' run o'er."
He ſang fae loud, round Rocks the Echoes flew,
'Tis true, he ſaid; they are return'd, 'tis true.
September 1720.
SCOTS SONGS.
Spoken to MRS. N.
A Poem wrote without a Thought,
By Notes may to a Song be brought,
Tho Wit be ſcarce, low the Deſign,
And Numbers lame in ev'ry Line:
But when fair Chriſty this ſhall ſing
In Conſort with the trembling String,
O then the Poet's often prais'd,
For Charms ſo ſweet a Voice hath rais'd.
MARY SCOT.
HAPPY's the Love which meets Return,.
When in ſoft Flames Souls equal burn;
But Words are wanting to diſcover.
Torments of a hopeleſs Lover.
Ye Regiſters of Heav'n relate,
If looking o'er the Rolls of Fate,
Did you there ſee mark'd for my Marrow
Mary Scot the Flower of Yarrow.
AH no! Her Form's too heavenly fair,
Her Love the Gods above muſt ſhare,
While Mortals with Deſpair explore her,
And at Diſtance due adore her.
O lovely Maid! my Doubts beguile,
Revive and bleſs me with a Smile;
Alace! if not, you'll ſoon debar a
Sighing Swain the Banks of Yarrow.
BE huſh ye Fears, I'll not deſpair,
My Mary's tender as ſhe's fair;
Then I'll go tell her all mine Anguiſh;
She is too good to let me languiſh;
With Succeſs crown'd I'll not envy
The Folks who dwell above the Sky,
When Mary Scot's become my Marrow,
We'll make a Paradice on Yarrow.
O'er BOGIE
I will awa' wi' my Love,
I will awa' wi' her,
Tho a' my Kin had ſworn and ſaid,
I'll o'er Bogie wi' her.
If I can get but her Conſent,
I dinna care a Strae,
Tho ilka ane be diſcontent,
Awa' wi' her I'll gae.
I will awa', &c.
FOR now ſhe's Miſtreſs of my Heart,
And wordy of my Hand,
And well I wat we ſhanna part,
For Siller or for Land.
Let Rakes delyte to ſwear and drink,
And Beaus admire fine Lace,
But my chief Pleaſure is to blink
On Betty's bonny Face.
I will awa', &c.
THERE a' the Beauties do combine
Of Colour, Treats and Air,-
The Saul that ſparkles in her Een
Makes her a Jewel rare:
Her flowing Wit gives ſhining Life
To a' her other Charms,
How bleſt I'll be when ſhe's my Wife,
And lockt up in my Arms.
I will awa', &c.
THERE blythly will I rant and ſing,
While o'er her Sweets I range,
I'll cry, Your humble Servant King,
Shamefa' them that wa'd change
A Kiſs of Betty and a Smile,
Abeet ye wa'd lay down
The Right ye ha'e to Britain's Iſle,
And offer me ye'r Crown.
I will awa', &c.
O'er the Moor to MAGGY
AND I'll o'er the Moor to Maggy,
Her Wit and Sweetneſs call me,
Then to my Fair I'll ſhow my Mind,
Whatever may befal me.
If ſhe love Mirth, I'll learn to ſing,
Or likes the Nine to follow,
I'll lay my Lugs in Pindus' Spring,
And invocate Apollo.
IF ſhe admire a martial Mind,
I'll ſheath my Limbs in Armour;
If to the ſofter Dance inclin'd,
With gayeſt Airs I'll charm her;
If ſhe love Grandeur, Day and Night
I'll plot my Nations Glory,
Find Favour in my Prince's Sight,
And ſhine in future Story.
BEAUTY can Wonders work with Eaſe,
Where Wit is correſponding,
And braveſt Men know bed to pleaſe,
With Complaiſance abounding.
My bonny Maggy's Love can turn
Me to what Shape ſhe pleaſes,
If in her Breaſt that Flame ſhall burn
Which in my Boſom bleezes.
I'll never leave Thee.
JONNY.
THO' for ſeven Years and mair Honour ſhou'd reave
me,
To Fields where Cannons rair, thou need na grieve thee;
For deep in my Spirit thy Sweets are indented,
And love ſhall preſerve ay what Love has imprinted.
Leave thee, leave thee, I'll never leave thee,
Gang the World as it will, Deareſt believe me.
NELLY.
O Jonny I'm jealous, when e'er ye diſcover
My Sentiments yielding, ye'll turn a looſe Rover;
And nought i' the Warld wa'd vex my Heart ſairer,
If you prove unconſtant, and fancy ane fairer.
Grieve me, grieve me, Oh it wad grieve me!
A' the Lang Night and Day, if you. deceive me.
JONNY.
MY Nelly let never ſic Fancies oppreſs ye,
For while my Blood's warm I'll kindly careſs ye,
Your blooming faſt Beauties firſt beeted Love's Fire,
Your Virtue and Wit make it ay flame the hyer:
Leave thee, leave thee, I'll never leave thee,
Gang the Warld as it will, Deareſt believe me.
NELLY.
THEN Jonny I frankly this Minute allow ye
To think me your Miſtreſs, for Love gars me trow ye,
And gin ye prove fa'ſe, to ye'r ſel be it ſaid then,
Ye'll win but ſma' Honour to wrang a kind Maiden.
Keave me, reave me, Heav'ns! it wad reave me,
Of my Reſt Night and Day, if ye deceive me.
JONNY.
BID Iceſhogles hammer red Gauds on the Study,
And fair Simmer Mornings nae mair appear ruddy;
Bid Britons think ae Gate, and when they obey ye,'
But never till that Time, believe I'll betray ye:
Leave thee, leave thee, I'll never leave thee;
The Starns ſhall gang witherſhins e'er I deceive thee.
Polwart on' the Green.
AT Polwart on the Green
If you'll meet me the Morn,
Where Laſſes do conveen
To dance about the Thorn
A kindly Welcome you ſhall meet
Frae her wha likes to view
A Lover and a Lad complete,
The Lad and Lover you.
LET dorty Dames ſay Na,
As lang as e'er they pleaſe,
Seem caulder than the Sna',
While inwardly they bleeze;
But I will frankly ſhaw my Mind,.
And yield my Heart to thee;
Be ever to the Captive kin
That langs na to be free,
AT Polwart on the Green,
Among the new mawn Hay,
With Sangs and Dancing keen
We'll paſs the heartſome Day,
At Night if Beds be o'er thrang laid,
And thou be twin'd of thine,
Thou ſhalt be welcome, my dear Lad,
To take a Part of mine.
JOHN HAY'S Bonny Laſſie.
BY ſmooth winding Tay a Swain was reclining,
Aft cry'd he, Oh hey! Mann I ſtill live pining
My ſell thus away, and darna diſcover
To my bonny Hay that I am her Lover.
NAE. main it will hide, the Flame waxes ſtranger,
If ſhe's not my Bride, my Days are nae Langer;
Then I'll take a Heart, and try at a Venture,
May be e'er we part my Vows may content her.
SHE'S freſh as the Spring, and ſweet as Aurora,
When Birds mount and ſing bidding Day a Good-morrow.
The Sward of the Mead enamel'd with Daiſies,
Look wither'd and dead when twin'd of her Graces.
BUT if ſhe appear where Verdures invite her,
The Fountains run clear, and Flowers ſmell the Sweeter,
'Tis Heav'n to be by, when her Wit is a flowing,
Her Smiles and bright Eye ſet my Spirits a glowing.
THE mair that I gaze, the deeper I'm wounded,
Struck dumb with Amaze, my Mind is confounded;
I'm all in a Fire, dear Maid, to careſs ye,
For a' my Deſire is Hay's bonny Laſſie.
Genty Tibby and ſonſy Nelly.
To the Tune of Tibby Fowler in the Glen.
TIBBY has a Store of Charms,
Her genty Shape our Fancy warms,
How ſtarkly can her ſma' white Arms
Fetter the Lad wha looks but at her;
Frae Ancle to her ſlender Waſte,
Theſe Sweets conceal'd invite to dawt her,
Her roſie Cheek and riſing Breaſt,
Gar ane's Mouth guſh bowt fou' o' Water.
Nelly's gawſy, ſaft and gay,
Freſh as the lucken Flowers in May,
Ilk ane that ſees her cries Ah hey!
She's bonny, O I wonder at her!
The Dimples of her Chin and Cheek,
And Limbs ſae plump invite to dawt her,
Her Lips ſae ſweet, and Skin ſae ſleek,
Gar mony Mouths beſide mine water.
NOW ſtrike my Finger in a Bore,
My Wyſon with the Maiden ſhore,
Gin I can tell whilk I am for
When theſe twa Stars appear thegether.
O Love! Why doſt thou gi'e thy Fires
Sae large? while we're oblig'd to nither
Our ſpacious Sauls immenſe Deſires
And ay be in a hankerin Swither.
Tibby's Shape and Airs are fine,
And Nelly's Beauties are divine;
But ſince they canna baith be mine,
Ye Gods give Ear to my Petition,
Provide a good Lad for the tane,
But let it be with this Proviſion,
I get the other to my lane,
In Proſpect plano and Fruition.
Up in the Air.
NOW the Sun's gane out o' Sight,
Beet the Ingle, and ſnuff the Light:
In Glens the Fairies skip and dance,
And Witches wallop o'er to France,
Up in the Air
On my bonny grey Mare.
And I ſee her yet, and I ſee her yet,
Up in, &c.
THE Wind's drifting Hail and Sna'
O'er frozen Hags like a Foot Ba',
Nee Starns keek throw the Azure Slit,
'Tis cauld and mirk as ony Pit,
The Man i' the Moon
Is carowſing aboon,
D'ye ſee, d'ye ſee, d'ye ſee him yet.
The Man, &c.
TAKE your Glaſs to clear your Een,
'Tis the Elixir hales the Spleen,
Faith Wit and Mirth it will inſpire,
And gently puffs the Lover's Fire,
Up in the Air,
It drives away Care,
Ha'e wi'ye, ha'e wi'ye, and ha'e wi'ye Lads yet,
Up in, &c.
STEEK the Doors, keep out the Froſt,
Come Willy gi'es about ye'r Toſt,
Til't Lads, and lilt it out,
And let us ha'e a blythſom Bowt,
Up wi't there, there,.
Dinna cheat, but drink fair,
Huzza, Huzza, and Huzza Lads yet,
Up wi't, &c.
THE
RISE and FALL
OF
STOCKS,
1720.
An Epiſtle to the Right Honourable my Lord
Ramſay, now in Paris.
Your Pettifoggers damn their Souls!
To ſhare with Knaves in cheating Fools,
And Merchants vent'ring on the Main
Slight Pirates, Rocks, and Horns for Gain.
HUDIBRAS.
MY LORD,
Withoutten Preface or Preamble,
My Fancy being on the Ramble;
Tranſported with an honeſt Paſſion,
Viewing our poor bambouzl'd Nation,
Biting her Nails, her Knuckles wringing,
Her Cheek ſae blae, her Lip ſae hinging;
Grief and Vexation's like to kill her,
For tyning baith her Tick and Siller.
ALLOW me then to make a Comment
On this Affair of greateſt Moment
Which has fa'n out, my Lord, ſince ye
Left Lothian and the Edge-well Tree:
And, with your Leave, I needna ſtickle
To ſay we're in a ſorry Pickle,
Since Poortith o'er ilk Head does hover
Frae John a Groat's Houſe, South to Dover.
Sair have we pelted been with Stocks,
Caſting our Credit at the Cocks.
Lang guilty of the higheſt Treaſon
Againſt the Government of Reaſon;
We madly at our ain Expences,
Stock-job'd away our Caſh and Senſes.
12. Edge-well Tree] An Oak Tree which grows on the Side of a fine Spring,
nigh the
Caſtle of Dalhouſie, very much obſerved by the Country People, who give
out, that before
any of the Family died, a Branch fell from the Edqe-well Tree. The old Tree
ſome few
Years ago fell altogether, but another ſprung from the ſame Root, which
is now tall and
flouriſhing, and lang be't ſae
16. John a Groat's Houſe] The Northmoſt Houſe in Scotland.
As little Bairns frae Winnocks hy
Drap down Saip Bells to waiting Fry,
Wha run and wreſtle for the Prize,
With Face erect and watchfou' Eyes;
The Lad wha gleggeſt waits upon it,
Receives the Bubble on his Bonnet,
Views with Delight the ſhining Beau-thing,
Which in a Twinkling burſts to Nothing.
Sae Britain brought on a' her Troubles,
By running daftly after Bubles.
IMPOS'D on by langnebit Juglers,
Stock-Jobbers, Brokers, cheating Smuglers,
Wha ſet their Gowden Girns ſae wylie,
Tho ne'er ſae cautious they'd beguile ye.
The covetous Infatuation
Was ſmittle out o'er a' the Nation,
Clergy and Lawyers and Phyſicians,
Mechanicks, Merchants, and Muſicians;
Baith Sexes of a' Sorts and Sizes
Drap'd ilk Deſign and jobb'd for Prizes.
Frae Noblemen to Livery Varlets,
Frae topping Toaſts to Hackney Harlots.
Poetick Dealers were but ſcarce,
Leſs browden ſtill on Caſh than Verſe;
Only ae Bard to Coach did mount,
By ſinging Praiſe to Sir john B.'ount;
But ſince his mighty Patron fell,
He looks juſt like Jock Blunt himſel.
SOME Lords and Lairds ſell'd Riggs and Caſtles,
And play'd them aff with tricky Raſcals,
Wha now with Routh of Riches vapour,
While their late Honours live on Paper.
But ah! the Difference 'twixt good Land,
And a poor Bankrupt Bubble's Band.
THUS Europeans Indians rifle,
And give them for their Gowd ſome Trifle;
As Deugs of Velvet, Chips of Chriſtal,
A Facon's Bell, or Baubie Whiſtle.
47. Only ae Bard, &c.] Vide Dick Franklin's Epiſtle.
50. He looks juſt like Jock Blunt] This is commonly ſaid of a Perſon who
is out of Conntenance
at a Diſapointment.
MERCHANTS and Bankers Heads gade wrang,
They thought to Millions they might ſpang;
Deſpis'd the virtuous Road to Gain;
And look'd on little Bills with Pain:
The well win Thouſands of ſome Years,.
In ae big Bargain diſappears.
'Tis ſair to bide, but wha can help it,
Inſtead of Coach, on Foot they skelp it.
THE Ten per Cents wha durſtna venture,
But lent great Sums upon Indenture,
To Billies wha as frankly war'd it,
As they out of their Guts had ſpar'd it,
When craving Money they have lent,
They're anſwer'd, Item, A' is ſpent.
The Miſer hears him with a Gloom,
Girns like a Brock and bites his Thumb,
Syne ſhores to grip him by the Wyſon,
And keep him a' his Days in Priſon.
Sae may ye do, replies the Debter,
But that can never mend the Matter:
As ſoon can I mount Charle-wain,
As pay ye back your Gear again.
Poor Mouldy rins quite by himſel,
And bans like ane broke looſe frae Hell.
It lulls a wee my Mullygrubs,
To think upon theſe bitten Scrubs,
When naething ſaves their vital Low,
But the Expences of a Tow.
THUS Children oft with carefu' Hands,
In Summer dam up little Strands,
Collect the Drizel to a Pool,
In which their glowing Limbs they cool;
Till by comes ſome ill-deedy Gift,
Wha in the Bulwark makes a Rift,
And with ae Stroke in Ruins lays,
The Work of Uſe, Art, Care and Days.
EVEN Handy-crafts-men too turn'd ſaucy,
And maun be Coaching't thro' the Cauſy;
83. By himſel] Mad, out of his Wits.
93. Ill deedy Gifts] A Rogiſh Boy, who is ſeldom without doings bad
Action.
Syne ſtroot fou paughty in the Alley,
Transferring Thouſands with ſome Valley:
Grow rich in Fancy, treat their Whore,
Nor mind they were, or ſhall be poor.
Like little Joves they treat the Fair,
With Gowd frae Banks built in the Air;
For which their Danaes lift the Lap,
And compliment them with a Clap,
Which by aft jobbing grows a Pox,
Till Brigs of Noſes fa' with Stocks.
HERE Coachmen, Grooms, or Paſment Trotter,
Glitter'd a while, then turn'd to Snoter:
Like a ſhot Starn, that thro' the Air
Skyts Eaft or Weſt with unko Glare,
But found neiſt Day on Hillock Side,
Nae better ſeems nor Paddock Ride.
SOME Reverend Brethren left their Flocks,
And ſank their Stipends in the Stocks;
105. Danaes] Danae the Daughter of Aeriſius King of Argos, to whom Jupiter
deſcended
in a Shower of Gold.
But tining baith, like Æſop's Colly,
O'er late they now lament their Folly.
FOR three warm Months, .May, June, and July,
There was odd ſcrambling for the Spulzy;
And mony a ane, till he grew tyr'd;
Gather'd what Gear his Heart deſir'd.
We thought that Dealer's Stock an ill ane,
That was not wordy haf a Million.
O had this Golden Age but laſted,
And no ſae ſoon been broke and blaſted,
There is a Perſon well I ken
Might wi' the beſt gane right far ben;
His Project better had ſucceeded,
And far leſs Labour had he needed:.
But 'tis a Daffin to debate,
And aurgle-bargain with our Fate.
Well, had this Gowden Age but laſted,
And not ſo ſoon been broke and blaſted,
127. A Perſon, &c.] Meaning my ſelf, with Regard to my printing this
Volume by Subſcription.

O wow, my Lord, theſe had been Days
Which might have claim'd your Poet's Lays;
But ſoon alake! the mighty Dagon
Was ſeen to fa' without a Rag on.
In Harveſt was a dreadfu' Thunder,
Which gart a' Britain glowr and wonder;
The phizzing Bowt came with a Blatter,
And dry'd our great Sea to a Gutter.
BUT mony Fowk with Wonder ſpeir,
What can become of a' the Gear?
For a' the Country is repining,
And ilka ane complains of tining.
Plain Anſwer I had beſt let be,
And tell ye juſt a Similie.
LIKE Belzie when he nicks a Witch,
Wha ſells her Saul ſhe may be rich;
He finding this the Bait to damn her,
Caſts o'er her Een his cheating Glamour:
She ſigns and ſeals, and he affords
Her Heaps of viſionary Hoords;
But when ſhe comes to count the Cunzie,
'Tis a' Sklate-ſtanes inſtead of Money.
THUS we've been trick'd with braw Projectors,
And faithfu' managing Directors,
Wha for our Caſh, the Saul of Trade,
Bonny Propines of Paper made;
On footing clean, drawn unco' fair,
Had they not vaniſht into Air.
WHEN South-Sea Tyde was at a Hight,
My Fancy took a daring Flight,
Thalia, lovely Muſe, inſpired
My Breaſt, and me with Fore-ſight fired;
Rapt into future Months, I ſa'
The rich Aerial Babel fa'.
'Yond Seas I faw the Upſtarts drifting,
Leaving their Coaches for the lifting,
Theſe Houſes fit for Wights gane mad,
I ſaw cramm'd fou as they cou'd had;
164. My Fancy, &c.] Wealth or the Woody, wrote in the Month of June laſt.
While little Sauls ſunk with Deſpair,
cauld Death to end their Care.
But now a ſweeter Scene I view,
Time has, and Time ſhall prove I'm true;
For fair Aſtrea moves frae Heav'n,
And ſhortly ſhall make a' Odds Ev'n.
The honeſt Man ſhall be regarded,
And Villains as they ought rewarded.
The ſetting Moon and roſie Dawn
Beſpeak a ſhining Day at Hand;
A glorious Sun ſhall ſoon ariſe,
To brighten up Britannia's Skies.
Our King and Senate ſhall engage
To drive the Vultures off the Stage:
Trade then ſhall flouriſh, and ilk Art,
A lively Vigour ſhall impart
To Credit languiſhing and famiſht,
And Lombard-ſtreet ſhall be repleniſht.
Got ſafe aſhore after this Blaſt,
Britons ſhall ſmile at Follies paſt.
GOD grant your Lordſhip Joy and Health,
Lang Days and Rowth of real Wealth;
Safe to the Land of Cakes Heav'n ſend ye,
And frae croſs Accidents defend ye.
Edinb. March 25.
1721
PATIE and PEGIE:
A
SANG.
PATIE.
BY the delicious Warmneſs of thy Mouth,
And rowing Eye, which ſmiling tells the Truth,
I gueſs, my Laſſie, that, as well as I
You're made for Love, and why ſhould ye deny.
PEGIE.
BUT ken ye, Lad, gin we confeſs o'er ſoon,
Ye think us cheap, and ſyne the Wooing's done:
The Maiden that o'er quickly tines her Power,
Like unripe Fruit, will taſte but hard and ſowr.
PATIE.
BUT when they hing o'er lang upon the Tree,
Their Sweetneſs they may tine, and ſae may ye:
Red Cheeked you completely ripe appear,
And I have thol'd, and woo'd a lang haff Year.
PEGIE.
THEN dinna pou me; gently thus I fa'
Into my Patie's Arms for good and a':
But ſtint your Wiſhes to this frank Embrace,
And mint nae farrer till we've got the Grace.
PATIE.
O charming Armfou! Hence ye Cares away,
I'll kiſs my Treaſure a' the live lang Day;
A' Night I'll dream my Kiſſes o'er again,
Till that Day come, that ye'll be a' my ain.
CHORUS.
Sun gallop down the Weſtlin Skyes,
Gang ſoon to Bed, and quickly riſe;
O laſh ye'r Steeds, poſt Time away,
And haſte about our Bridel-Day;
And if ye'r weary'd, honeſt Light,
Sleep gin ye like a Week that Night.
PROLOGUE.
Spoke by one of the young Gentlemen, who, for their
Improvement and Diverfion, acted The Orphan,
and Cheats of Scapin, the last Night
of the Year 1719.
BRAW Lads, and bonny Laſſes, welcome here, —
But wha's to entertain ye, — never ſpeer. —
Quietneſs is beſt. — Tho we be leal and true,
Good Senſe and Wit's mair than we dare avow. —
Some Body ſays to ſome Fowk, We're to blame,
That 'tis a Scandal and black-burning Shame
To thole young Callands thus to grow ſae ſnack,
And lear — O mighty Crimes! — to ſpeak and act. —
Stage-Plays, quoth Dunce, are unco' Things indeed!
He ſaid, — he gloom'd, — and ſhook his thick boſs Head.
They're Papery, Papery! — cry'd his Nibour neiſt,
Contriv'd at Rome by ſome malignant Prieſt,
To witch away Fowks Minds frae doing well,
As ſaith Rab Ker. M'MiIlan and M'Neil.
16. Rab Ker ] One who puts the canting Phraſes of M'Millan and M'Neil (two
nonconforming
Hill Preachers) into wretched Rhime.
BUT let them tauk. — In Spite of ilk Cadaver,
We'll cheriſh Wit, and ſcorn their Fead or Favour;
We'll ſtrive to bring in active Eloquence,
Tho for a while upon our Fame's Expence.
I'm wrang. — Our Fame will mount with metled Gaules,
And for the reſt, we'll be aboon their Snarls. —
Knock down the Fools, wha dare with empty Rage
Spit in the Face of Virtue and the Stage.
'Cauſe Hereticks in Pulpits thump and rair,
Muſt naithing orthodox b' expected there;
Becauſe a Rump cut off a Royal Head,
Muſt not anither Parli'ment ſucceed.
Thus tho the Drama's aft debauch'd and rude,
Muſt we, for ſome are bad, refuſe the good:
Anſwer me that, — if there be ony Log,
That's come to keek upon us here incog,
Anes, — Twice, Thrice. — But now I think on't, ſtay,
Iv'e ſomething elſe to do, and muſt away. —
This Prologue was deſign'd for Uſe and Sport,
The Chiel that made it, let him anſwer for't.
The Life and Acts of,
OR,
An ELEGY on PATIE BIRNIE,
The Famous Fidler of Kinghorn;
Who gart the Lieges gawff and girn ay,
Aft till the Cock proclaim'd the Morn:
Tho baith his * Weeds and Mirth were pirny,
He roos'd theſe Things were langeſt worn,
The brown Ale Barrel was his Kirn ay,
And faithfully he toom'd his Horn.
And then beſides his valliant Acts,
At Bridals he wan mony Placks.
HAB. SIMPSON.
IN Sonnet ſlee the Man I ſing,
His rare Engine in Rhyme ſhall ring;
Wha ſlaid the Stick out o'er the String
With ſic an Art;
Wha ſang ſae ſweetly to the Spring,
And rais'd the heart.
* Weeds and Mirth were pirny] When a Piece of Stuff is wrought unennally.
Part ceaſe
and Part fine, of Yarn of different Colours, we call it pirny; from the
Pirn, or little hollow
Reed which holds the Yarn in the Shuttle.
Kingborn may rue the ruefou Day
That lighted Patie to his Clay,
Wha gart the hearty Billies ſlay
And ſpend their Caſh,
To ſee his Snowt, to hear him play,
And gab ſae gaſh.
WHEN Strangers landed, wow ſae thrang
Fuffin and peghing he wa'd gang
And crave their Pardon that ſae lang
He'd been a coming;
Syne his Bread-winner out he'd bang,
And fa' to Bumming.
YOUR Honour's Father dead and gane,
For him he firſt wa'd make his Mane,
But ſoon his Face cou'd make ye fain
When he did ſough,
O wiltu, wiltu do't again!
And gran'd and leugh.
13. When Strangers landed] It was his Cuſtom to watch when Strangers went
into a
publick Houle, and attend them, pretending they had ſent for him, and that
he could not
get away ſooner from other Company.
19 Tour Honour's Father] It was his firſt Compliment to one (tho he had
never perhaps
ſeen him, nor any of his Predeceſſors). That well he head his Honour's
Father, and been
merry with him, and an excellent Good-fellow he was.
21. Soon his Face wad make ye fain] Shewing a very particular Comicalneſs
in his Looks
and Geſtures, laughing and groaning at the ſame time, he plays, ſings,
and breaks in with
ſome quire Tale twice or thrice e'er he get through the Tune. His Beard is
no ſmall Addition
to the Diverſion.
23. O Wiltu] The Name of a Tune he play'd pa all Occaſions.
THIS Sang he made frae his ain Head,
And eke The auld Man's Mate ſhe's dead,
Tho Peets and Tures and a's to lead,
O fy upon her!
A bonny auld Thing this indeed,
An't like ye'r Honour.
AFTER ilk Tune he took a Sowp,
And bann'd wi' Birr the corky Cowp,
That to the Papiſts Country ſcowp,
To lear Ha ha's,
Frae Chiels that ſing Hap, Stap and Lowp,
Wantin the B—s.
THAT beardleſs Capons are na Men,
We by their fozie Springs might ken;
But ours he ſaid cou'd Vigiour len'
To Men o' Weir;
And gar them ſtout to Battle ſten'
Withoutten Fear.
25 This Sang he made] He boaſted of being Poet as well as Muſician.
32. Band wi' Birr the corky Cowp, &c.] Curs'd ſtrongly the light headed
Fellows who run
to Italy to learn ſoft Muſick.
HOW firſt he practis'd, ye ſhall hear,
The Harn-pan of an umquhile Mare,
He ſtrung, and ſtrak Sounds ſaft and clear,
Out o' the Pow,
Which fir'd his Saul, and gart his Ear
With Gladneſs glow.
SAE ſome auld-gabet Poets tell,
Jove's nimble Son and Leckie ſnell
Made the firſt Fiddle of a * Shell,
On which Apollo,
With meikle Pleaſure play'd
Baith Jig and Solo.
O Jonny Stocks what comes o' thee,
I'm ſure thoult break thy Heart and die;
Thy Birnie gane, thou'lt never be
Nor blyth nor able]
To ſhake thy ſhort Houghs merrily
Upon a Table.
* Tuque Teſtudo, reſonare ſeptem.
Callida nervis.
HORACE.
55. Jonny Stocks] A Man of a low Stature, but very broad, a loving Friend
of his, who
aſked to dance to his Muſick.
How pleaſant was't to ſee thee didle,
And dance ſae finely to his Fiddle,
With Noſe forgainſt a Laſs's Midle,
And briskly brag,
With cutty Steps to ding their Striddle,
And gar them fag.
HE catch'd a criſhy Webſter Loun
At runkling o' his Deary's Gown,
And wi' a Rung came o'er his Crown,
For being there;
But ſtarker Thrums got Patie down,
And knooſt him ſair.
WAE worth the Dog, he maiſt had fell'd him,
Revengfu' Pate aft green'd to geld him,
He aw'd a Mends, and that he tell'd him,
And bann'd to do't.,
He took the Tid, and fairly ſell'd him
For a Recruit.
Pate was a Carle of canny Senſe,
And wanted ne'er a right bein Spence,
And laid up Dollars in Defence
'Gainſt Eild and Gout,
Well judging Gear in future Tenſe
Cou'd ſtand for Wit.
YET prudent Fowk may take the Pet;
Anes thrawart Porter wadna let
Him in while Latter-meat was het,
He gaw'd fou ſair,
Flang in his Fiddle o'er the Yet,
Whilk ne'er did mair.
BUT Profit may ariſe frae Loſs,
Sae Pate gat Comfort by his Croſs:
Soon as he wan within the Cloſs,
He douſly drew in
Mair Gear frae ilka gentle Goſs
Than bought a new ane.
80. Bein Spence] Good Store of Proviſion, the Spence being a little
Apartment for Meal.
86. Ane's thrawart Porter, &c.] This happened in the Duke of Rotbeſs's
Time; His GOV
was giving an Entertainment, and Patrick being deny'd Entry by the
Servants, he either
from a cunning View of the lucky Conſequence, or in a Paſſion, did
what's deſcribed.
WHEN lying bedfaſt ſick and ſair,
To Pariſh Prieſt he promis'd fair,
He ne'er wad drink fou ony mair:
But hale and tight,
He prov'd the Auld-man to a Hair,
Strute ilka Night.
THE hally Dad with Care eſſays
To wile him frae his wanton Ways,
And tell'd him of his Promiſe twice:
Pate anſwer'd cliver,
"Wha tents what People raving ſays
"When in a Fever.
AT Bothwell-Brig he gade to fight,
But being wiſe as he was wight,
He thought it ſhaw'd a Saul but ſlight,
Dauftly to ſtand,
And let Gun-powder wrang his Sight,
Or Fidle-Hand.
109. Bothwell-Brig] Upon Clyde, where the famous Battle was fought, Anno
1679, for the
Determination of ſome kittle Points. But I dare not aſſert that it was
Religion carried my
Heroe to the Field.
RIGHT pawkily he left the Plain,
Nor o'er his Shoulder look'd again,
But ſcour'd o'er Moſs and Moor amain,
To Rieky ſtraight,
And tald how mony Whigs were ſlain
Before they faught.
SAE I've lamented Patie's End;
But leaſt your Grief o'er far extend,
Come dight your Cheeks, ye'r Brows unbend,
And lift ye'r Head,
For to a' Britain be it kend
He is not dead.
January 25.
1721.
CUPID thrown into the South-Sea.
MYRTILLA as like Venus' fell
As e'er an Egg was like anither,
Anes Cupid met upon the Mall,
And took her for his bonny Mither.
HE wing'd his Way up to her Breaſt;
She ſtarted, he cry'd, Mam 'tis me;
The Beauty, in o'er raſh a Jeſt,
Flang the Arch-Gytling in South-Sea.
FRAE thence he raiſe wi' guilded wings,
His Bow and Shafts to Gowd were chang'd;
Deers i' the Sea, quoth he, it dings;
Syne back to Mall and Park he rang'd.
BREATHING Miſchief, the God look'd gurly,
With Transfers a' his Darts were feather'd;
He made a horrid burly burly,
Where Beaus and Belles were thickeſt gather'd.
HE tentily Myrtilla ſought,
And in the thrang Change-Alley got her;
He drew his Bow, and quick as Thought
With a braw new Subſcription ſhot her.
THE
SATYR's
COMICK PROJECT
For recovering
A young Bankrupt Stock-jobber.
A
SONG.
ON the Shore of a low ebbing Sea,
A ſighing young Jobber was ſeen
Staring wiſhfully at an old Tree
Which grew on the neighbouring Green.
There's a Tree that can finiſh the Strife
And Diſorder that warrs in my Breaſt,
What need one be pain'd with his Life,
When a Halter can purchaſe him reſt?
From the Beginning to the 20th Line, ſing to the Tune of Colin's
Complaint.
SOMETIMES he would ſtamp and look wild,
Then roar out a terrible Curſe
On Bubbles that had him beguil'd,
And left ne'er a Doit in his Purſe.
A Satyr that wander'd along,
With a Laugh to his Raving reply'd
The Savage maliciouſly ſung,
And jock'd while the Stockjobber cry'd.
To Mountains and Rocks he complain'd,
His Cravat was bath'd with his Tears;
The Satyr drew near like a Friend,
And bid him abandon his Fears.
Said he, Have ye been at the Sea,
And met with a contrary Wind,
That you rail at fair Fortune ſo free,
Don't blame the poor Goddeſs ſhe's blind.
From the 21 ſt Line, where the Satyr begins to ſpeak to the Tune of The
Kirk wad let me be.
COME hold up thy Head fooliſh Wight,
I'll teach thee the Loſs to retrieve;
Obſerve me this Project aright,
And think not of hanging, but live.
Hecatiſſa conceited and old,
Affects in her Airs to ſeem young,
Her Joynture yields Plenty of Gold,
And Plenty of Nonſenſe her Tongue.
LAY Siege to her for a ſhort Space,
Ne'er mind that ſhe's wrinkl'd or grey;
Extoll her for Beauty and Grace,
And doubt not of gaining the Day.
In Wedlock ye fairly may join,
And when of her Wealth you are ſure,
Make free with the old Woman's Coin,
And purchaſe a ſprightly young W—.
TO THE
MUSICK CLUB.
E'E R on old Shinar's Plain the Fortreſs roſe,
Rear'd by thoſe Giants who durſt Heav'n oppoſe
An univerſal Language Mankind us'd,
'Till daring Crimes brought Accents more confus'd;
Diſcord and Jar for Puniſhment were hurl'd
On Hearts and Tongues of the rebellious World.
THE primar Speech with Notes harmonious clear,
Tranſpoſing Thought, gave Pleaſure to the Ear:
Then Muſick in its full Perfection ſhin'd,
When Man to Man melodious ſpoke his Mind.
As when a richly fraughted Fleet is loſt
In rolling Deeps, far from the ebbing Coaſt,
Down many Fathoms of the liquid Maſs,
The Artiſt dives in Ark of Oak, or Braſs,
Snatches ſome Ingots of Peruvian Ore,
And with his Prize rejoycing makes the Shore.
Oft this Attempt is made, and much they find
They ſwell in Wealth, tho much is left behind.
Amphion's Sons, with Minds elate and bright,
Thus plunge th' unbounded Ocean of Delight,
And daily gain new Stores of pleaſing Sounds
To glad the Earth, fixing to Spleen its Bounds;
While vocal Tubes and conſort Strings engage
To ſpeak the Dialect of the Golden Age.
Then you whole Symphony of Souls proclaim
Your Kin to Heaven, add to your Country's Fame,
And ſhew that Muſick may have as good Fate
In Albion's Glens, as Umbria's green Retreat:
And with Correlli's ſoft Italian Song
Mix Cowdon Knows, and Winter Nights are long.
Nor ſhould the Martial Pibrough be deſpis'd,
Own'd and refin'd by you, theſe ſhall the more be priz'd.
EACH raviſht Ear extolls your Heavenly Art,
Which ſooths our Care, and elevates the Heart,
Whilſt hoarſer Sounds the martial Ardures move,
And liquid Notes invite to Shades and Love.
HAIL ſafe Reftorer of diſtemper'd Minds,
That with Delight the raging Paſſion binds:
Extatick Concord only baniſht Hell,
Moſt perfect where the perfect Beings dwell.
Long may our Youth attend thy charming Kites,
Long may they reliſh thy tranſporting Sweets.
Wine and Muſick, an ODE.
SYMON.
O Colin how dull is't to be,
When a Soul is ſinking wi' Pain,
To one who is pained like me:
My Life's grown a Load,
And my Faculties nod,
While I ſigh for cold Jeanie in vain;
By Beauty and Scorn I'm ſlain:
The Wound it is mortal and deep,
My Pulſes beat low in each Vein;
And threaten eternal Sleep.
COLIN.
COME here are the beſt Cures for thy Wounds,
O Boy, the cordial Bowl!
With ſoft harmonious Sounds,
Wounds, theſe can cure all Wounds,
With ſoft harmonious Sounds,
And pull off the cordial Bowl:
O Symon, ſink thy Care, and tune up thy drooping Soul;
Above, the Gods bienly bouze,
When round they meet in a Ring;
They caſt away Care, and carouſe
Their Nectar, while they ſing.
Then drink and chearfully ſing,
Theſe make the .Blood circle fine;
Strike up the Muſick,
The ſafeſt Phyſick,
Compounded with ſparkling Wine.
ON
THE GREAT ECLIPSE
OF THE
SUN
The 22d April, nine a Clock of the Morning;
wrote a Month before it hapned, March 1715.
NOW do I preſs among the learned Throng,
To tell a great Eclipſe in little Song.
At me nor Scheme, nor Demonſtration ask,
That is our Gregory's, or fam'd Hally's Task:
'Tis they who are converſant with each Star,
Who know how Planets Planets Rays debar.
N. B. The Order of Time in placing ſome of my Manuſcript Poems, with
Regard to
them formerly printed, is not obſerved in ſome few of the following, but
their Dates
ſhall be given.
4 Mr. Gregory] Mr. Gregory Profeſſor of Mathematicks in Edinburgh. Famed
Hally
Fellow of the Royal Society. London.
This to pretend my Muſe is not ſo bold,
She only echoes what ſhe has been told.
OUR rolling Globe will ſcarce have made the Sun
Seem half way up Olympus to have run,
When Night's pale Queen in her oft changed Way,
Will intercept in direct Line his Way,
And make black Night uſurp the Throne of Day.
The curious will attend that Hour with Care,
And with no Clouds may hover in the Air,
To dark the Medium, and obſtruct from Sight
The gradual Motion and Decay of Light,
thoughtleſs Fools will view the Water Pale,
To ſee which of the Planets will prevail:
For then they think the Sun and Moon make War,
Thus Nurſes Tales oftimes the Judgment mar.
WHEN this ſtrange Darkneſs overſhades the Plains,
'Twill give an odd Surpriſe t' unwarned Swains,
Plain honeſt Hinds, who do not know the Cauſe,
Nor know of Orbs, their Motions or their Laws,
9 Rolling Globe] According to the Capernican Syſtem.
Will from the half plough'd Furrows homeward bend,
In dire Confuſion, judging that the End.
Of Time approacheth; thus poſſeſt with Fear,
They'll think the general Conflagration near.
The Traveler benighted on the Road
Will turn devour, and ſupplicate his God.
Cocks with their careful Mates and younger Fry,
As if't were Evening, to their Rooſts will fly.
The horned Cattle will forget to feed,
And come home lowing from the graſſie Mead.
Each Bird of Day will to his Neſt repair,
And leave to Bats and Owls the dusky Air.
The Lark and little Robin's ſofter Lay
Will not be heard till the Return of Day.
Now this will be great Part of Europe's Caſe,
While Phebe's as a Mask on Phœbus' Face.
The unlearn'd Clowns, who don't our Æra know,
From this dark Friday will their Ages ſhow;
As I have often heard old Country Men
Talk of dark Munday, and their Ages then.
NOT long ſhall laſt this ſtrange uncommon Gloom
When Light diſpels the Ploughman's Fear of Doom;
With merry Heart he'll lift his raviſh'd Sight
Up to the Heavens, and welcome back the Light.
How juſt's the Motions of theſe whirling Spheres!
Which ne'er can err while Time is met by Years.
How vaſt is little Man's capacious Soul!
That knows how Orbs throw Weilds of Æther roll.
How great's the Power of that Omniſick Hand!
Who gave them Motion by his wiſe Command,
That they ſhould not while Time had Being ſtand.
The GENTLEMAN'S QUALIFICATIONS, as debated
by ſome of the Fellows of the Eafy Club,
April 171 5.
FROM different Ways of Thinking comes Debate,
This we deſpiſe, and That we over-rate,
Juſt as the Fancy takes, we love or hate.
Eaſy Club] A juvenile Society, of which I am a Fellow, front the general
Antipathy we all
ſeem'd to have at the ill Humor and Contradictions which ariſe from
Trifles, eſpecially thoſe
which conſtitute Whig and Tory, without having the grand Reaſon for it;
this engaged us
to take a Pleaſure in the Sound of an Eaſy Club.
The Club by one of our ſpecial Laws, muſt not exceed Twelve, and any
Gentleman at
his Admiſſion was to take the Name of ſome Scots Author, or one eminentt
for ſomething
extraordinarv, for obſcuring his real Name in the Regiſter of our
Lucubrations, ſuch as are
nam'd in this Debate, Tippermaloch, Buchanan, Hector Boece, &c.
Hence Whig and Tory live in endleſs Jarr,
And moſt of Families in Civil War:
Hence 'mongſt the eaſieſt Men beneath the Skies,
Even in their eaſy Dome, Debates ariſe:
As late they did with Strength of Judgment ſcan
Theſe Qualities that form a Gentleman.
Firſt Tippermaloch pled with Spaniſh Grace
That Gentry only ſprung from antient Race,
Whoſe Names in old Records of Time were fix'd,
In whoſe rich Veins ſome royal Blood was mixt.
I being a. Poet ſprung from a Douglaſs' Loin,
In this proud Thought did with the Doctor join;
With this Addition, if they could ſpeak Senſe,
Ambitious I, ah! had no more Pretence.
Buchanan, with ſtiff Argument and bold,
Pled Gentry took its Birth from powerful Gold.
Him Hector Boece join'd, they argued ſtrong,
Said they, to Wealth that Title muſt belong;
If Men are rich, they're gentle, and if not
You'll own their Birth and Senſe are ſoon forgot.
Pray ſay, ſaid they, How much reſpectful Grace
Demands an old red Coat and mangled Face?
Or one, if he could like an Angel preach,
If he to no rich Benefice can reach?
Ev'n Progeny of Dukes are at a Stand
How to make out bare Gentry without Land
But ſtill the Doctor would not quit the Field,
But that rich Upſtarts ſhould to Birth-right yeild;
He grew more ſtiff, nor would the Plea let go,
Said he was right, and ſwore it ſhould be ſo.
BUT happy we, who have ſuch wholſome Laws,
Which without Pleading can decide a Cauſe.
To this good Law Recourſe we had at laſt,
That throws off Wrath, and makes our Friendſhip faſt;
In which the Legiſlators laid the Plot,
To end all Controverſy by a Vote.
YET that we more good Humor might diſplay,
We frankly turn'd the Vote another Way,
As in each Thing we common Topicks ſhun,
So the great Prize, nor Birth nor Riches won.
The Vote was carried thus, That eaſy he
Who ſhould three Years a ſocial Fellow be,
And to our Eaſy Club give no Offence,
After Triennial Tryal, ſhould commence
A Gentleman, which gives as juſt a Claim
To that great Title, as the Blaſt of Fame
Can give to them who trade in humane Gore,
Or thoſe who heap up Hoords of coined Ore;
Since in our ſocial Friendſhip nought's deſign'd
But what may raiſe and brighten up the Mind;
We aiming cloſs to walk by Virtue's Rules,
To find true Honour's ſelf, and leave her Shade to Fools.
On WIT
MY eaſy Friends, ſince ye think fit
This Night to lucubrate on Wit;
And ſince ye judge that I compoſe
My Thoughts in Rhime better than Proſe,
3. Since ye judge, &c.] Being but an indifferent Sort of an Orator, my
Friends would
merrily alledge that I was not ſo happy in Proſe as Rhime; it was carried
in a Vote againſt
which there is no Oppoſition, and the Night appointed for ſome Leſſons
on Wit I was ordered
to give my Thoughts in Verſe.
I'll give my Judgment in a Sang,
And here it comes be't right or wrang.
But firſt of a' I'll tell a Tale
That with my Caſe runs paralel.
THERE was a manting Lad in Fife,
Wha cou'd na for his very Life
Speak without ſtammering very lang,
Yet never manted when he ſang.
His Father's Kiln he anes ſaw burning,
Which gart the Lad run Breathleſs mourning;
Hameward with cliver Strides he lap,
To tell his Dady his Miſhap.
At Diſtance e'er he reach'd the Door,
He ſtood and rais'd a hideous Roar.
His Father when he heard his Voice,
Stept out and ſaid, Why a' this Noiſe?
The Calland gap'd and glowr'd about,
But no ae Word could he lug out.
His Dad cry'd, kening his Defect,
Sing, ſing, or I shall break your Neck.
Then ſoon he gratifi'd his Sire,
And ſang aloud, Your Kiln's a Fire.
Now ye'll allow there's Wit in that,
To tell a Tale ſae very pat.
Bright Wit appears in mony a Shape,
Which ſome invent and others ape.
Some ſhaw their Wit in wearing Claiths,
And ſome in coining of new Aiths;
There's crambo Wit in making Rhime,
And dancing Wit in beating Time:
There's metl'd Wit in Story-telling,
In writing Grammar, and right ſpelling:
Wit ſhines in Knowledge of Politicks,
And wow! what Wit's amang the Criticks.
So far my Mates excuſe me while I play
In Strains ironick with that heavenly Ray,
Rays which the humane Intelects refine,
And makes the Man with brillant Luſtre ſhine,
Marking him ſprung from Origine divine.
Yet may a well rig'd Ship be full of Flaws,
So may looſe Wits regard no ſacred Laws:
That Ship the Waves will ſoon to Pieces ſhake,
So 'midſt his Vices ſinks the witty Rake.
But when on Firſt-rate-virtues Wit attends,
It both itſelf and Virtue recommends,
And challenges Reſpect where e'er its Blaze extends.
ON
FRIENDSHIP.
THE Earth-born Clod who hugs his Idol Pelf,
His only Friends are Mammon and himſelf
The drunken Sots, who want the Art to think,
Still ceaſe from Friendſhip when they ceaſe from Drink.
The empty Fop, who ſcarce for Man will paſs,
Neer ſees a Friend but when he views his Glaſs.
FRIENDSHIP firſt ſprings from Sympathy of Mind,
Which to complete the Virtues all combine,
And only found 'mongſt Men who can eſpy,
The Merits of his Friend without Envy.
Thus all pretending Friendſhip's but a Dream,
Whoſe Baſe is not reciprocal Eſteem.
KEITHA:
A
PASTORAL
Lamenting the Death of the Right Honourable
MARY Counteſs of Wigtoun.
RINGAN.
O'ER ilka Thing a gen'ral Sadneſs hings!
The Binds wi' Melancholy droop their Wings;
My Sheep and Kye neglect to moup their Food,
And ſeem to think as in a dumpiſh Mood.
Hark how the Winds ſouch mournfu' throu' the Broom,
The very Lift puts on a heavy Gloom:
My Neibour Colin too, he bears a Part,
His Face ſpeaks out the Sairneſs of his Heart;
Tell, tell me Colin, for my bodding Thought,
A Bang of Fears into my Breaſt has brought,
COLIN.
WHERE haſt thou been thou Simpleton, wha ſpeers
The Cauſe of a' our Sorrow and our Tears?
Wha unconcern'd can hear the common Skaith
The Warld receives by lovely Keitha's Death?
The bonnieſt Sample of what's good and kind;
Fair was her Make, and heav'nly was her Mind.
But now this ſweeteſt Flower of a' our Plain,
Leaves us to ſigh, tho a' our Sighs are vain;
For never mair ſhe'll grace the hearſome Green,
Ay heartſome when ſhe deign'd there to be ſeen.
Speak Flowry Meadows where ſhe us'd to wauk,
Speak Flocks and Burds wheve heard her ſing or tauk.
Did ever you ſae meikle Beauty bear,
Or ye ſae mony heav'nly Accepts hear:
Ye painted Haughs, ye Minſtrels of the Air
Lament, for lovely Keitha is nae mair.
RINGAN.
YE weſtlin Winds that gently us'd to play
On her white Breaſt, and ſteal ſome Sweets away,
Whilſt her delicious Breath perfum'd your Breeze,
Which gratefu' Flora took to feed her Bees.
Bear on your Wings, round Earth, her Spoteleſs Fame,
Worthy that noble Race from whence ſhe came;
Reſounding Braes where e'er ſhe us'd to lean,
And view the Cryſtal Burn glide o'er the Green,
Return your Echoe's to our mournfu' Sang,
And let the Streams in Murmures bear't alang.
Ye unkend Powers, wha Water haunt or Air,
Lament, for lovely Keitha is nae mair.
COLIN.
AH wha cou'd tell the Beauties of her Face,
Her Mouth that never op'd but wi' a Grace;
32. Worthy that noble Race] She was Daughter to the late Earl Mariſhal,
the third of
that honourable Rank of Nobility.
Her Een which did with heav'nly Sparkles low,
Her modeſt Cheek fluſh'd with a roſie Glow,
Her fair brent Brow, ſmooth as the unrunkled Deep,
When a' the Winds are in their Caves aſleep:
Her Prefence like a Simmer's Morning Kay,
Lighten'd our Hearts, and gart ilk Place look gay.
Now twin'd of Life, theſe Charms look cauld and blae,
And what before gave Joy, now makes us wae.
Her Goodneſs ſhin'd in ilka pious Deed, —
A Subject, Ringan, for a lofty Reed!
A Shepherd's Sang maun ſic high Thoughts decline,
Leſt ruſtick Notes ſhould darken what's divine.
Youth, Beauty, Graces, a' that's good and fair
Lament, for lovely Keitha is nae mair.
RINGAN.
How tenderly ſhe ſmooth'd our Maſter's Mind,
When round his manly Waiſt her Arms ſhe twin'd,
And look'd a Thouſand ſaft Things to his Heart,
While native Sweetneſs ſought nae Help frae Art.
To him her Merit ſtill appear'd mair bright,
As yielding ſhe own'd his ſuperior Right.
Baith ſaft and ſound he ſlept within her Arms,
Gay were his Dreams, the Influence of her Charms.
Soon as the Morning dawn'd he'd draw the Screen,
And watch the op'ning of her fairer Een;
Whence ſweeteſt Rays guſht out in ſic a Thrang,
Beyond Expreſſion in my rural Sang.
COLIN.
O Clementina! ſprouting fair Remains
Of her, wha was the Glory of our Plains.
Dear Innocence with Infant Darkneſs bleſt,
Which hides the Happineſs that thou haſt miſt.
May a' thy Mither's Sweets thy Portion be,
And a' thy Mither's Graces ſhine in thee.
RINGAN.
SHE loot us ne'er gae hungry to the Hill,
And a' ſhe gae, ſhe geed it wi' good Will;
Fow mony, mony a ane will mind that Day
On which frae us ſhe's tane ſae ſoon away,
Baith Hynds and Herds, wha's Cheeks beſpake nae Scant,
And throu' the Howms could whiſtle, ſing and rant,
Will miſs her ſair, till happily they find
Anither in her Place ſae good and kind.
The Laſſes wha did at her Graces mint,
Ha'e by her Death their bonnieſt Pattern tint.
O ilka ane who did her Bounty skair,
Lament, for gen'rous Keitha is nae mair.
COLIN.
O Ringan, Ringan! Things gang ſae uneven,
I canna well take up the Will of Heav'n.
Our Croſſes teughly laſt us mony a Year,
But unco ſoon our Bleſſings diſappear.
RINGAN.
I'LL tell thee Colin my laſt Sunday's Note,
I tented well Meſs Thamas ilka Jot.
The Powers aboon are cautious as they're juſt,
And dinna like to gi'e o'er meikle Truſt
To this unconſtant Earth, with what's divine,
Left in laigh Damps they ſhould their Luſtre tine.
Sae let's leave aff our Murmuring and Tears,
And never value Life by Length of Years.
But as we can in Goodneſs it employ,
Syne wha dies firſt, firſt gains eternal Joy.
Come, Colin, dight your Cheeks and baniſh Care,
Our Lady's happy, tho with us nae mair.
To the Right Honourable,
The Town-Council ofEDINBURGH,
THE
ADDRESS of Allan Ramſay:
YOUR Poet humbly means and ſhaws,
That contrair to juſt Rights and Laws
I've ſuffer'd muckle Wrang
By Lucky Reid, and Ballad Singers,
Wha thum'd with their coarſe dirty Fingers
Sweet Edie's Funeral-Sang.
4. Lucky Reid] A Printers Relict, who with the Hawkers Re-printed my
Pastoral on
Mr Addiſon, without my Knowledge on ugly Paper, full of Errors.
They ſpoil'd my Senſe and ſtaw my Caſh,
My Muſes Pride murgully'd,
And printing it like their vile Traſh,
The honeſt Lieges whilly'd.
Thus undone, to London
It Bade to my Diſgrace,
Sae pimpin and limpin
In Rags wi' bluther'd Face.
YET Gleg-eyed Friends throw the Diſguiſe
Receiv'd it as a dainty Prize
For a' it was ſae hav'ren,
Gart Lintot take it to his Preſs,
And clead it in a braw new Dreſs,
Syne took it to the Tavern.
But tho it was made clean and brew,
Sae fair it had been knoited,
It blather'd Buff before them a',
And aftentimes turn'd doited.
21. To London] One of their uncorrect Copies was re-printed at London by
Bernard Lintos
in Folio firſt, before he printed it a ſecond Time from a correct Copy of
my own, with
the honourable Mr. Burches's Engliſh Verſion of it.
23. Blather'd Buff] Spoke Nonſenſe, from Words being wanting, and many
wrong ſpeIl'd
and changed, ſuch as gras for gars, Praiſe for Phraſe, &c.
It griev'd me and reav'd me
Of kindly Sleep and Reſt,
By Carlings and Gorlings
To be ſae ſair oppreſt.
WHEREFORE to You ne'er kend to guide ill,
But wiſely had the good Town's Bridle,
My Caſe I plainly tell,
And, as your ain, plead I may have
Your Word of Weight, when now I crave
To guide my Gear my ſell.
Then clean and fair the Type ſhall be,
The Paper like the Snaw,
Nor ſhall our Town think Shame wi' me,
When we gang far awa.
What's wanted if granted
Beneath your honour'd Wing.
Baith hantily and cantily
Your Supplicant ſhall ſing,
32. As your ain] A free Citizen'.
33. Your Word of Weight] To interpoſe their juſt Authority in my Favour,
and grant me
an Act to ward off theſe little Pirates, which I gratefully acknowledge
the Receipt of.
42. Shall ſing] There being Abundance of their Petitioners who daily
oblige themſelves to
pray.
Inſcription on the Gold Tea-pot, gain'd by Sir
James Cunningham of Milncraig, Bart.
AFTER the gaining Edinburgh's Prize
The Day before with running thrice,
Me Milncraig's Rock moſt fairly won,
When thrice again the Courſe he run:
Now for Diverſion 'tis my Share
To run three Heats, and pleaſe the Fair.
Inſcription engraven on the Piece of Plate, which
was a Punch-Bowl and Ladle, given by the
Captains of the Train'd-Bands of Edinburgh,
and gain'd by Captain Ch. Crockat's Swallow.
CHARGE me with Nants and limpid Spring,
Let ſowr and ſweet be mixt,
Bend round a Health ſyne to the King,
To Edinburgh's Captains next,
Wha form'd me in ſae blyth a Shape,
And gave me laſting Honours,
Take up my Ladle fill and lape,
And ſay, Fairfa' the Donors.
TO THE
Whin-Bush Club,
THE
BILL
Of ALLAN RAMSAY.
OF Crawfurd-Moor, born in Leadhill,
Where Min'ral Springs Glengoner fill,
Which joins ſweet flowing Clyde,
Between auld Crawfurd-Lindſay's Towers,
And where Deneetne rapid pours
His Stream thro' Glotta's Tide;
Native of Clydſdale's upper Ward,
Bred Fifteen Summers there,
Whin-Buſh] This Club conſiſts of Clydſdale-Shire Gentlemen, who
frequently meet at a diverting
Hour, and keep up a good Underſtanding amongſt themſelves over a
friendly Botle.
And from a charitable Principle, eaſily collect into their Treaſurer's
Box a ſmall Fond, which
has many a Time relieved the Diſtreſſes of in indigent Perſons of that
Shire.
1. Lead hill] In the Pariſh of Crawfurd Moor, famous for the Lead and Gold
Mines belonging
to the Earl of Hoptoun.
2. Glengoner] The Name of a ſmall River, which takes its Riſe from the
Lead-hills, and enters
Clyde between the Caſtle of Crawfurd and the Mouth of Deneetne, another of
the Branches
of Clyde,
Tho, to my Loſs I'm no a Laird
By Birth, my Title's fair
To bend wi' ye and ſpend wi' ye
An Evening, and gaffaw,
If Merit and Spirit
Be found without a Flaw.
SINCE douſly ye do nought at Random,
Then take my Bill to Aviſandum;
And if there's nae Objection,
I'll deem't my Honour and be glad
To come beneath your Whin-Buſh Shade,
And claim to its Protection.
If frae the Caverns of a Head
That's boſs, a Storm ſhould blaw,
Etling wi' Spite to rive my Reed,
And give my Mule a Fa',
When poring and ſoaring
O'er Heleconian Heights,
She traces theſe Places
Where Cynthius delights.
AN
EPISTLE
TO
Mr. JAMES ARBUCKLE of Belfaſt, A.M
Edinburgh, January 1719.
AS Errant Knight with Sword and Piſtol,
Beſtrides his Steed with mighty Fiſtle;
Then ſtands ſome Time in jumbled Swither
To ride in this Road or that ither;
At laſt ſpurs on, and diſna care for
A how, a what Way, or a wherefore.
OR like extemporary Quaker,
Waſting his Lungs, t' enlighten weaker
Lanthorns of Clay, where Light is wanting,
With formleſs Phraſe, and formal Canting;
While Jacob Behmen's Salt does ſeaſon,
And ſaves his Thought frae corrupt Reaſon,
Gowling aloud with Motions queereſt,
Yerking theſe Words out which ly neareſt.
THUS I (no longer to illuſtrate
With Similies, lefl I ſhould fruſtrate
Deſign Laconick of a Letter,
With Heap of Language and no Matter,)
Bang'd up my blyth auld-faſhion'd Whiſtle,
To ſowf ye o'er a ſhort Epiſtle,
Without Rule, Compaſſes, or Charcoal,
Or ſerious Study in a dark Hole.
Three Times I ga'e the Muſe a Rug,
Then bate my Nails and claw'd my Lug;
Still heavy, at the laſt my Noſe
I prim'd with an inſpiring Doſe,
Then did Ideas dance, (dear ſafe us!)
As they'd been daft. — Here ends the Preface.
11 Jacob Behmen] A Quaker who wrote Volumes of unintelligible
enthuſiaſtick Bombaſt.
26. Inſpiring Doſe] Vide Mr.Arbuckle's Poem on Snuff.
GOOD Mr. James Arbuckle, Sir,
(That's Merchant's Stile, as clean as Fir )
Ye're welcome back to Caledonie,
Lang Life and thriving light upon ye,
Harveſt, Winter, Spring and Summer,
And ay keep up your heartſome Humor,
That ye may thro' your lucky Task go,
Of bruſhing up our Siſter Glaſgow;
Where Lads are dextrous at improving,
And docile Laſſes fair and loving:
But never tent theſe Fellows Girning,
Wha wear their Faces ay in Mourning,
And frae pure Dullneſs are malicious,
Terming ilk Turn that's witty, vicious.
NOW, Jamie, in neiſt Place, Secundo,
To give you what's your Duc in mundo;
That is to ſay in hame o'er Phraſes,
To tell ye, Men of Mettle praiſes
31. Welcome back] Having been in his Native Ireland viſiting his Friends.
Ilk Verſe of yours when they can light on't,
And trouth I think they're in the right on't;
For there's ay ſomething ſae auldfarran,
Sae ſlid, ſae unconſtrain'd and darrin,
In ilka Sample we have ſeen yet,
That little better e'er has been yet.
Sae much for that. — My Friend Arbuckle,
I ne'er afore roos'd ane ſae muckle.
Fauſe Flat'ry nane but Fools will tickle,
That gars me hate it like auld Nicol:
But when ane's of his Merit conſcious,
He's in the wrang, when prais'd, that glunſhes.
THIRDLY, Not tether'd to Connection,
But rattling by inſpir'd Direction,
When ever Fame, with Voice like Thunder,
Sets up a Chield a Warld's Wonder,
Either for flaſhing Fowk to dead,
Or having Wind-mills in his Head,
Or Poet, or an airy Beau,
Or ony twa Leg'd Rary-ſhow,
They wha have never ſeen't are biſſy
To ſpeer what like a Carlie is he.
Imprimis then, for Tallneſs
Am five Foot and four Inches high:
A Black-a-vic'd ſnod dapper Fallow,
Nor lean, nor overlaid wi' Tallow.
With Phiz of a Morocco Cut,
Reſembling a late Man of Wit,
Auld-gabbet Spec, wha was ſae Cunning
To be a Dummie ten Years running.
THEN for the Fabrick of my Mind,
'Tis man to Mirth than Grief inclin'd,
I rather chooſe to laugh at Folly,
Than ſhow Diſlike by Melancholy;
Well judging a ſowr heavy Face
Is not the trueſt Mark of Grace.
I hate a Drunkard or a Glutton,
Yet am nae Fae to Wine and Mutton
75. Auld gobbet Spec] The Spectator, who gives us a fictitious Deſcription
of his ſhort
Face and Taciturnity, that he had been eſteem'd a dumb Man for ten Years.
Great Tables ne'er engag'd my Wiſhes,
When crowded with o'er mony Diſhes,
A healthfu' Stomach ſharply ſet
Prefers a Back-ſey pipin het.
I never cou'd imagin't vicious
Of a fair Fame to be ambitious:
Proud to be thought a comick Poet,
And let a Judge of Numbers know it,
I court Occaſion thus to ſhow it.
SECOND of thirdly, — pray take heed,
Ye's get a ſhort Swatch of my Creed.
To follow Method negatively
Ye ken takes Place of poſitively.
Well then, I'm nowther Whig nor Tory,
Nor Credit give to Purgatory.
Tranſub, Loretta-houſe, and mae Tricks,
As Prayers to Saints, Katties and Patricks;
Nor Aſgilite, nor Beſs Clarkſonian,
Nor Mountaineer, nor Mugletonian;
Nor can believe, ant's nae great Ferly,
In Cotmoor Fowk, and Andrew Harley.
NEIST Anti-Tolland, Blunt and Wh—,
Know poſitively I'm a Chriſtian,
Believing Truths and thinking free,
Wiſhing thrawn Parties wad agree.
SAY, wad ye ken my gate of Fending,
My Income, Management, and Spending?
Born to nae Lairdſhip, mair's the Pity!
Yet Deniſon of this fair City.
I make what honeſt Shift I can,
And in my ain Houſe am Good-man,
Which ſtands on Edinburgh's Street the Sun-ſide,
I theek the out, and line the Inſide
103. Nor Aſgilite] Mr. Aſgil a late Member of Parliament advanced
(whether in Jeſt
or Earneſt I know not) ſome very whimſical Opinions, particularly, That
People need not
die if they pleas'd, but he tranſlated alive to Heaven like Enoch and
Elijah. Clerkſonian,
Beſſy Clarkſon? Lanark-Shire Woman. Vide the Hiſtory of her Life and
Principles.
104. Mountaineer] Our wild Folks, who always prefer a Hill-ſide to a
Church under any
civil Authority. Mugletonian, A kind of Quakers, ſo called from one
Mugleton. See
Leſſie's Snake in the Graſs.
105. Cotmoor Fowk ] A Family or two who had a particular Religion of their
own, valued
themſelves on uſing vain Repetitions in Prayers of 6 or 7 Hours long;
were pleaſed with
Miniſters of no kind. Andrew Harlaw a dull Fellow of no Education was Head
of the
Party.
Of mony a douſe and witty Paſh,
And baith Ways gather in the Caſh;
Thus heartily I graze and beau it,
And keep a Wife ay great wi' Poet.
Contented I have ſic a Skair,
As does my Buſineſs to a Hair,
And fain wa'd prove to ilka Scot
That Poortith's no the Poet's Lot.
FOURTHLY and laſtly baith togither,
Pray let us ken when ye come hither;
There's mony a canty Carle and me
Wa'd be much comforted to ſee ye.
But if your outward be Refractory,
Send us your inward Manufactory.
That when we're kedgy o'er our Claret,
We correſpond may with your Spirit.
ACCEPT of my kind Wiſhes, with
The ſame to Dons Buttler and Smith;
Health Wit and Joy, Sauls large and free,
Be a' your Fates, — ſae God be wi' ye.
To the Right Honourable,
WILLIAM
Earl of DALHOUSIE.
Mæcenas atavis edite Regibus,
HORACE.
DALHOUSIE of an auld Deſcent,
My Chief; my Stoup and Ornament,
For Entertainment a wee while,
Accept this Sonnet with a Smile;
Setting great Horace in my View,
He to Mecenas, I to you:
But that my Muſe may ſing with Eaſe,
I'll keep or drap him as I pleaſe.
How differently are Fowk inclin'd,
There's hardly twa of the ſame Mind;
Some like to ſtudy, ſome to play,
Some on the Links to win the Day,
And gar the Courſer rin like wood,
A' drapin down with Sweat and Blood:
The Winner ſyne aſſumes a Look
Might gain a Monarch or a Duke.
Neiſt view the Man with pauky Face
Has mounted to a faſhous Place,
Inclin'd by an o'er-ruling Fate,
He's pleas'd with his uneaſy State:
Glowr'd at a while, he gangs fou braw,
Till frae his kittle Poſt he fa'.
THE Lothian Farmer he likes beſt
To be of good faugh Riggs poſſeſt,
And fen upon a frugal Stock,
Where his Forbeers had us'd the Yoke:
Nor is he fond to leave his Wark,
And venture in a rotten Bark,
Syne into far aff Countries ſteer
On tumbling Waves to gather Gear.
THE Merchant wreck'd upon the Main
Swears he'll ne'er venture on't again;
That he had rather live on Cakes,
And ſhyreſt Swats, with Landart Maiks,
As rin the Risk by Storms to have,
When he is dead, a living Grave.
But Seas turn ſmooth, and he grows fain,
And fairly takes his Word again:
Tho he ſhou'd to the Bottom ſink,
Of Poverty he downa think.
SOME like to laugh their Time away,
To dance while Pipes or Fidles play,
And have nae Senſe of ony Want
As Lang as they can drink and rant.
THE rat'ling Drum and Trumpet's Tout
Delight young Swankies that are ſtout:
What his kind frighted Mother ugs,
Is Muſick to the Soger's Lugs.
THE Hunter with his Hounds and Hawks
Bangs up afore his Wife awakes;
Nor ſpeers gin ſhe has ought to ſay,
But ſcowrs o'er Highs and Hows a' Day,
Throw Moſs and Moor, nor does he care
Whither the Day be foul or fair,
If he his truſty Hounds can chear
To hunt the Tod or drive the Deer.
MAY I be happy in my Lays,
And won a laſting Wreath of Bays,
Is a' my Wiſh; well pleas'd to ſing
Beneath a Tree, or by a Spring,
While Lads and Laſſes on the Mead
Attend my Caledonian Reed,
And with the ſweeteſt Notes rehearſe
My Thoughts, and rooſe me for my Verſe.
IF you, my Lord, claſs me amang
Thoſe who have ſung baith ſaft and ſtrang,
Of ſmiling Love or doughty Deed,
To Starns ſublime I'll lift my Head.
Horace to Virgil, on his taking a Voyage to Athens.
Sic te diva potens Cypri, —
O Cyprian Goddeſs twinkle clear,
And Helens' Brithers ay appear;
Ye Stars wha ſhed a lucky Light,
Auſpicious ay keep in a Sight;
King Eol grant a tydie Tirl,
But boaſt the Blaſt that rudely whirl;
Dear Ship be canny with your Care,
At Athens land my Virgil fair,
Syne ſoon and ſafe, baith Lith and Spaul,
Bring Name the tae haff o' my Saul.
DARING and unco ſtout he was,
With Heart hool'd in three Sloughs of Braſs,
Wha ventur'd firſt on the rough Sea,
With hempen Branks and Horſe of Tree:
Wha on the weak Machine durſt ride
Throu' Tempeſts, and a rairing Tide;
Nor clinty Craigs, nor Hurrycane,
That drives the Adriatick Main,
And gars the Ocean gowl and quake,
Cou'd e'er a Soul ſae ſturdy ſhake.
The Man wha cou'd ſic Rubs win o'er,
Without a Wink at Death might glowr,
Wha unconcern'd can take his Sleep
Amang the Monſters of the Deep.
Jove vainly twin'd the Sea and Eard,
Since Mariners are not afraid.
With Laws of Nature to diſpence,
And impiouſly treat Providence.
Audacious Men at nought will ſtand
When vicious Paſſions have command.
Prometheus ventur'd up and ſtaw
A lowan Coal frae Heav'ns high Ha';
Unſonſy Thift, which Feavers brought
In Bikes, which Fowk like Sybous hought:
Then Death erſt ſlaw began to ling,
And faſt as Haps to dart his Sting.
Neiſt Dedalus muſt contradict
Nature forſooth, and Feathers ſtick
Upon his Back, ſyne upward ſtreek,
And in at Jove's high Winnocks keek,
While Hercules, wi's Timber Mell,
Plays rap upo' the Yates of Hell.
WHAT is't Man winna ettle at?
E'en wi' the Gods he'll bell the Cat:
Tho Jove be very Laith to kill,
They winna let his Bowt ly ſtill.
An ODE to Mr. F----.
Solvitur acris hiems —
HORACE.
NOW Gowans ſprout and Lavrocks ſing,
And welcome Weſt Winds warm the Spring,
O'er Hill and Dale they ſaftly blaw,
And drive the Winter's Cauld awa.
The Ships lang gyzen'd at the Peer
Now ſpread their Sails and ſmoothly ſteer,
The Nags and Nowt hate wiſſen'd Strae,
And frisking to the Fields they gae,
Nor Hynds wi' Elſon and hemp Lingle,
Sit ſolling Shoon out o'er the Ingle.
Now bonny Haughs their Verdure boaſt
That late were clade wi' Snaw and Froſt,
With her gay Train the Paphian Queen
By Moon-light dances on the Green,
She leads while Nymphs and Graces ſing,
And trip around the Fairy King.
Mean Time poor Vulcan hard at Thriſt,
Gets mony a ſair and heavy Lift,
Whilſt rinnen down, his haff-blind Lads
Blaw up the Fire, and thump the Gads.
Now leave your Fitſted on the Dew,
And busk ye'r ſell in Habit new.
Be gratefu' to the guiding Powers,
And blythly ſpend your eaſy Hours.
O kanny F—! tutor Time,
And live as lang's ye'r in your Prime;
That ill bred Death hasnae Regard
To King or Cottar, or a Laird,
As ſoon a Caſtle he'll attack,
As Waus of Divots roof'd wi' Thack.
Immediately we'll a' take Flight
Unto the mirk Realms of Night,
As Stories gang, with Gaiſts to roam,
In gloumie Pluto's gouſty Dome;
Bid fair Good-day to Pleaſure ſyne
Of bonny Laſſes and red Wine.
THEN deem ilk little Care a Crime,
Dares waſte an Hour of precious Time;
And ſince our Life's ſae unko ſhort,
Enjoy it a', ye've nae mair for't.
To the Ph- - - - an ODE.
Vides ut alta ſtet nive candidum
Socrate. —
HORACE.
LOOK up to Pentland's towring Taps,
Buried beneath great Wreaths of Snaw,
O'er ilka Cleugh, ilk Scar and Slap,
As high as ony Roman Wa'.
DRIVING their Baws frae Whins or Tee,
There's no ae Gowfer to be ſeen,
Nor douſſer Fowk wyſing a Jee
The Byaſs Bouls on Tamſon's Green.
THEN ſling on Coals, and ripe the Ribs,
And beek the Houſe baith Butt and Ben,
That Mutchken Stoup it hads but Dribs,
Then let's get in the tappit Hen.
GOOD Claret beſt keeps out the Cauld,
And drives away the Winter ſoon,
It makes a Man baith gaſh and bauld,
And heaves his Saul beyond the Moon,
LEAVE to the Gods your ilka Care,
If that they think us worth their While,
They can a Rowth of Bleſſings ſpare,
Which will our faſhious Fears beguile.
FOR what they have a Mind to do,
That will they do, ſhould we gang wood,
If they command the Storms to blaw,
Then upo' ſight the Hailſtains thud.
BUT ſoon as e'er they cry, Bequiet,
The blatt'ring Winds dare nae mair move,
But tour into their Caves, and wait
The high Command of ſupreme Jove.
LET neiſt Day come as it thinks fit,
The preſent Minute's only ours,
On Pleaſure let's imploy our Wit,
And laugh at Fortune's feckleſs Power.
BE ſure ye dinna quat the Grip
Of ilka Joy when ye are young,
Before auld Age your Vitals nip,
And lay ye twafald o'er a Rung.
SWEET Youth's a blyth and heartſome Time,
Then Lads and Laſſes while it's May,
Gae you the Gowan in its Prime,
Before it wither and decay.
WATCH the ſaft Minutes of Delyte,
When Jenny ſpeaks beneath her Breath,
And kiſſes, laying a the Wyte
On you if ſhe kepp ony Skaith.
HAITH ye're ill bred, ſhe'll ſmiling ſay,
Ye'll worry me ye greedy Rook;
Syne frae your Arms ſhe'll rin away,
And hide her ſell in ſome dark Nook:
HER Laugh will lead you to the Place
Where lies the Happineſs ye want,
And plainly tells you to your Face,
Nineteen Nay-ſays are haff a Grant.
NOW to her heaving Boſom cling,
And ſweetly toolie for a Kiſs,
Frae her fair Finger whop a Ring,
As Taiken of a future Bliſs.
THESE Benniſons, I'm very ſure,
Are of the Gods indulgent Grant;
Then ſurly Carles, whiſht, forbear
To plague us with your whining Cant.
To Mr. WILLIAM AIKMAN.
'TIS granted, Sir, Pains may be ſpar'd
Your Merit to ſet forth,
When there's ſae few wha claim Regard,
That diſna ken your Worth.
YET Poets give immortal Fame,
To Mortals that excel,
Which if neglected they're to blame;
But you've done that your ſell.
WHILE frae Originals of yours
Fair Copies ſhall be tane,
And fix'd on Braſs to busk our Bow'rs,
Your Mem'ry ſhall remain.
To your ain Deeds the maiſt deny'd,
Or of a Taſte o'er fine,
Maybe ye're, but o'er right, afraid
To ſink in Verſe like mine.
THE laſt can ne'er the Reaſon prove,
Elſe wherefore with good Will
Do ye my nat'ral Lays approve,
And help me up the Hill?
BY your Aſſiſtance unconſtrain'd
To Courts I can repair,
And by your Art my Way I've gain'd
To Cloſets of the Fair.
HAD I a Muſe like lofty Pope,
For touring Numbers fit,
Then I the ingenious Mind might hope
In trueſt Light to hit.
BUT comick Tale and Sonnet ſlee
Are cooſten for my Share,
And if in theſe I bear the Gree,
I'll think it very fair.
Spoken to three young Ladies, who would have
me to determine which of them was the bonnieſt.
ME anes three Beauties did ſurround,
And ilka Beauty gave a Wound,
Whilſt they with ſmiling Eye,
Said, Allan, which think ye maiſt fair?
Gi'e Judgment frankly, never ſpare.
Hard is the Task ſaid I:
But added, feeing them ſae free,
Ladies ye maun ſay mair to me,
And my Demand right fair is;
Firft, like the gay Celeſtial Three,
Shaw a' your Charms, and then ha'e wi' ye,
Faith I ſhall be your Paris.
TO
SIR WILLIAM BENNET
Of Grubbet, .Bart.
WHILE now in Diſcord giddy Changes reel,
And ſome are rack'd about on Fortunes Wheel,
You with undaunted Stalk, and Brow ſerene,
May trace your Groves, and preſs the dewy Green;
No guilty Twangs your manly Joys to wound,
Or horrid Dreams to make your Sleep unſound.
To ſuch as you, who can mean Care deſpiſe,
Nature's all beautiful 'twixt Earth and Skies.
Not hurried with the Thirſt of unjuſt Gain,
You can delight your ſelf on Hill or Plain,
Obſerving when thoſe tender Sprouts appear,
Which crowd with fragrant Sweets the youthful Year.
Your lovely Scenes of Marlefield abound
With as much Choiſe as is in Britain found:
Here faireſt Plants from Nature's Boſom ſtart
From Soil prolifick, ſerv'd with curious Art:
Here oft the heedful Gazer is beguil'd,
And wanders through an artificial Wild,
While native flowry Green, and chriſtal Strands,
Appear the Labours of ingenious Hands.
MOST happy he who can thoſe Sweets enjoy
With Taſte refin'd, which does not eaſy cloy.
Not ſo Plebeian Souls, whom ſporting Fate
Thruſts into Life upon a large Eſtate,
While Spleen their weak Imagination ſowrs,
They're at a Loſs how to imploy their Hours:
The ſweeteſt Plants which faireſt Gardens ſhow,
Are loſt to them, for them unheeded grow.
Such purblind Eyes ne'er view the ſon'rous Page,
Where ſhines the Raptures of poetick Rage,
Nor through the Microſcope can take Delight,
T' obſerve the Tusks and Briſtles of a Mite;
Nor by the lengthen'd Tub learn to deſcry
Theſe ſhining Worlds which roll around the Sky.
Bid ſuch read Hiſt'ry to improve their Skill,
Polite Excuſe! Their Memories are ill.
Moll's Maps may in their Dining-rooms make ſhow,
But their Contents they're not oblig'd to know;
And gen'rous Friendſhip's out of Sight too fine,
They think it only means a Glaſs of Wine.
BUT he whoſe chearful Mind hath higher Flown,
And adds learn'd Thoughts of others to his own,
Has ſeen the World, and read the Volume Man, .
And can the Springs and Ends of Actions ſcan,
Has fronted Deaths in Service of his King,
And drunken deep of the Caſtalian Spring;
This Man can live, — and happieſt Life's his due,
Can be a Friend, — a Virtue known to few;
Yet all ſuch Virtues ſtrongly ſhine in You.
An EPISTLE to a Friend at Florence, in
his Way to Rome.
YOUR ſteady Impulſe foreign Climes to view,
To ſtudy Nature, and what Art can ſhew,
I now approve, while my warm Fancy walks
O'er Italy, and with your Genius talks,
We trace with glowing Breaſt and peiercing Look
The curious Galery of th' illuſtrious Duke,
Where all thoſe Maſters of the Arts divine,
With Pencils, Pens, and Chizels greatly Shine,
Immortalizing the Auguſtan Age,
On Medals, Canvas, Stone, or writes Page.
Profiles and Buſts Originals expreſs,
And antique Scrols, old e'er we knew the Preſs.
For's Love to Science, and each virtuous Scot,
May Days unnumbcr'd be great Coſmus' Lot.
THE ſweet Heſperian Fields you'll next explore,
'Twixt Arnus' Banks and Tiber's fertile Shore.
Now, now I with my Organs could keep Pace,
With my fond Muſe and you theſe Plains to trace,
We'd enter Rome with an uncommon Taſte,
And feed our Minds on every famous Waſte;
Amphitheaters, Columns, Royal Tombs,
Triumphal Arches, Ruines of vaſt Domes,
Old aerial Aqueducts, and ſtrong pav'd Roads,
Which ſeem to've been not wrought by Men but Gods.
THESE view'd, we'd then ſurvey with outmoſt Care
What modern Rome produces fine or rare,
Where Buildings riſe with all the Strength of Art,
Proclaiming their great Architect's Deſert,
Which Citron Shades ſurround and Jeſſamin,
And all the Soul of Raphael ſhines within:
Then we'd regale our Ears with ſounding Notes,
Which warble tuneful thro' the beardleſs Throats,
Join'd with the vib'rating harmonious Strings,
And breathing Tubes, while the ſoft Eunoch ſings.
OF all thoſe Dainties take a hearty Meal;
But let your Reſolution ſtill prevail,
Return before your Pleaſure grow a Toil,
To longing Friends, and your own native Soil:
Preſerve your Health, your Virtue ſtill improve,
Hence you'll invite Protection from above.
The beautiful Roſe Tree encloſed.
WITH Awe and Pleaſure we behold thy Sweets,
Thy lovely Roſes have their pointed Guards,
Yet tho the Gath'rer Oppoſition meets,
The fragrant Purchaſe all his Pain rewards.
BUT hedg'd about and watch'd with warry Eyes,
O Plant ſuperior, beautiful and fair,
We view thee like yon Stars which gem the Skies,
But equally to gain we muſt deſpair.
AH! wert thou growing on ſome ſecret Plain,
And found by me, how raviſht would I meet
All thy tranſporting Charms to eaſe my Pain,
And feaſt my raptut'd Soul on all that's ſweet.
THUS ſung poor Symon: Symon was in love,
His too aſpiring Paſſion made him ſmart;
The Roſe Tree was a Miſtreſs far above
The Shepherd's Hope, which broke his tender Heart.
To R--- H--- B---, an ODE.
Nullam Vare ſacra vite prius ſeveris arborem,
Circa mite ſolum Tiburis & mænia Catili. HOR.
OB----, cou'd theſe Fields of thine
Bear as in Gaul the juicy Vine,
How ſweet the bonny Grape wou'd ſhine
On Wau's where now,
Your Apricocks and Peaches fine
Their Branches bow.
SINCE humane Life is but a Blink,
Why ſhould we its ſhort Joys ſink;
He diſna live that canna link
The Glaſs about,
When warm'd with Wine, like Men we think,
And grow mair ſtout.
THE cauldrife Carlies clog'd wi' Care,
Wha gathering Gear gang hyt and gare,
If ramn'd we red, they rant and rair
Like mirthfu' Men,
It ſoothly ſhaws them they can ſpare,
A rowth to ſpend.
WHAT Soger when with Wine he's bung
Did e'er complain he had been dung,
Or of his Toil, or empty Spung,
Na, o'er his Glaſs,
Nought but braw Deeds imploy his Tongue,
Or ſome ſweet Laſs.
YET Trouth, 'tis proper we ſhould ſtint
Our ſells to a freſh mod'rate Pint,
Why ſhould we (the blyth Bleſſing) mint
To waiſt or ſpill,
Since, aften, when our Reaſon's tint
We may do ill.
LET's ſet theſe Hair-brain'd Fowk in View,
That when they're ſtupid, mad and fow
Do brutal Deeds, which aft they rue.
For a' their Days,
Which frequently prove very few:
To ſuch as theſe.
THEN let us grip our Bliſs mair ſicker,
And tape our Heal, and ſprightly Liquor,
Which ſober tane makes Wit the quicker,
And Senſe mair keen,
While graver Heads that's muckle thicker
Grave wi' the Spleen.
MAY ne'er ſic wicked Fumes ariſe
In me ſhall break a' ſacred Ties,
And gar me like a Fool deſpiſe
With Stifneſs rude,
What ever my beſt Friends adviſe
Tho ne'er ſo good.
'TIS beſt then to evite the Sin
Of bending till our Sauls gae blin,
Leſt like our Glaſs our Breaſts grow thin,
And let Fowk peep,
At ilka ſecret hid within
That we ſhould keep.
Clyde's Welcome
TO HIS
PRINCE.
WHAT chearful Sounds from ey'ry Side I hear,
How beauteous on their Banks my Nymphs
appear,
Got throw theſe maſſy Mountains at my Source,
O'er Rocks ſtupendous of my upper Courſe.
To theſe fair Plains where I more ſmoothly move,
Throw verdant Vales to meet Evana's Love.
Yonder ſhe comes beneath Dodona's Shade,
How blyth ſhe looks! how ſweet and gaylic clade;
Her dowry Bounds bears all the Pride of May,
While round her ſoft Meanders Shepherd's play.
Hail lovely Naid to my Boſom large,
Amidſt my Stores commit thy chryſtal Charge,
4. Rocks ſtupendous] The River falls over ſeveral high Precipices, ſuch
as Corrah's Lin
Stane-Byre Lin, &c.
6. Evana] The ſmall River Evan which joins Clyde near Hamilton.
And ſpeak theſe Joys all thy Deportment ſhews,
That to old Ocean I may have good News.
With ſolemn Voice, thus ſpoke Majeſtick Clyde,
In ſofter Notes lov'd Evan thus reply'd.
GREAT Glotta, long have I had Cauſe to mourn,
While my forſaken Stream guſht from my Urn.
Since my late LORD his Nation's juſt Delight,
Greatly lamented ſunk in endleſs Night.
His hopeful STEM our chief Deſire and Boaſt,
Expos'd to Danger on ſome foreign Coaſt,
Lonely for Years, I've murmur'd on my Way,
When dark I wept, and ſight in ſhining Day.
THE Sire return'd, juſt Reaſons for thy Pains,
So long to wind through ſolitary Plains:
Thy Loſs was mine, I ſympathiz'd with thee,
Since one our Griefs, then ſhare thy Joys with me.
THEN hear me, liquid Chiftain of the Dale,
Huſh all your Cat'racts, till I tell my Tale,
Then riſe and rore, and kiſs your bord'ring Flowers,
And ſound our Joys around yon lordly Towers;
Yon lordly Towers, which happy now contain,
Our brave and youthful PRINCE return'd again.
WELCOME, in loudeſt Raptures cry'd the Flood,
His Welcome echo'd from each Hill and Wood;
Enough Evana, long may they contain
The noble Youth ſafely return'd again.
From the green Mountain where I lift my Head,
With my twin Brothers Annan and the Tweed,
To thoſe high Arches where, as Culdees ſing,
The pious Mungo fiſh'd the Trout and King.
My faireſt Nymphs ſhall on my Margin play,
And make ev'n all the Year one holy Day.
The Sylvan Powers and Watches of each Hight,
Where Fleecy Flocks and climbing Goats delight,
Shall from their Groves and rocky Mountains roam,
To join with us, and ſing his Welcome home.
With lofty Notes we'll ſound his high Deſcent,
His dawning Merits and heroick Bent.
39 Green Mountain] From the ſame Hill thy Rivers Clyde, Tweed and Annan
have
their Riſe, yet run to three different Seas, viz. the Northern Ocean, the
German Ocean,
and the Iriſh Sea.
41. High Arches] The Bridge of Glaſgow, where as its reported, St. Mungo
the Patron
of that City, drew up a Fiſh that brought him a Ring, which had been
dropt; which Miracle
Glaſgow retains the Memory of in their Arms.
Theſe early Rays which ſtedfaſtly ſhall ſhine,
And add new Glories to his ancient Line.
A Line ay loyal, and fir'd with generous Zeal
The braveſt Patrons of the Common-weal.
From him who plung'd his Sword (ſo Muſes ſing)
Deep in his Breaſt, who durſt defame our King.
We'll ſing the Fire, which in his Boſom glows
To warm his Friends, and ſcorch his daring Foes;
Endow'd with all theſe ſweet, yet manly Charms,
As fits him for the Fields of Love, or Arms.
Fixt in an high and independant State,
Above to act, what's little to be great.
GUARD him, firſt Power, whoſe Hand directs the Sun,
And teaches me throw Caverns dark to run,
Long may he on his own fair Plains reſide,
And Slight my Rival Thames, and love his Clyde.
55. So muſes ſing] Vide the ingenious Mr Patrick Gordon's Account of this
Illuſtrious Family
in his Poem on the valiant Atchievcments of our great King Robert,
ſirnamed the
Bruce, Page 45. beginning at this Stanza, the Prophet ſpeaks to our
Monarch.
Now in thy Time, quoth he, there ſhall arrive
A worthy Knight, that from his native Land
Shall fly, becauſe he bravely ſhall deprive,
In glorious Fight, a Knight that ſhall withſtand
Thy Praiſes due, while he doth thee deſcrive.
Tea even, this Knight. ſhall with victorious Hand
Come here, whoſe Name hir Seed ſhall eternize,
And ſtill thy virt'ous Line ſhall ſympathize.
On the moſt HONOURABLE,
The Marqueſs of BOWMONT's
Cutting off his Hair.
SHALL Berenice's Treſſes mount the Skies,
And by the Muſe to ſhining Fame ariſe,
Bellinda's Lock invite the ſmootheſt Lays
Of him whole Merit Claims the Britiſh Bays,
And not, dear Bowmont, beautiful and young,
The graceful Kinglets of thy Head be ſung!
How many tender Hearts thine Eyes hath pain'd!
How many fighing Nymphs thy Locks have chain'd!
THE God of Love beheld him with Envy,
And on Cythirea's Lap began to cry,
All drench'd in Tears, O Mother help your Son!
Elſe by a mortal Rival I'm undone;
With happy Charms he incroaches on my Sway,
His Beauty diſconcerts the Plots I lay.
When I've made Cloe her humble Slave admire,
Straight he appears and kindles new Deſire;
She ſighs for him, and all my Art beguiles,
Whilſt he, like me, commands and careleſs ſmiles.
AH me! Theſe ſable Circles of his Hair,
Which wave around his Beauties red and fair,
I cannot bear! Adonis would ſeem dim,
With all his flaxen Locks, if plac'd by him.
Venus reply'd, No more, my deareſt Boy,
Shall thoſe inchanting Curls thy Peace deſtroy;
For ever ſep'rate they ſhall ceaſe to grow,
Or round his Cheek, or on his Shoulders flow;
I'll uſe my Slight, and make them quickly feel
Their Honour's loſt by the invading Steel:
I'll turn my ſelf in Shape of Mode and Health,
And gain upon his youthful Mind by Stealth:
Three Times the Sun ſhall not have rouz'd the Morn,
E'er he conſent theſe from him ſhall be ſhorn.
THE Promiſe ſhe perform'd, but Labour vain,
And ſtill ſhall prove, while his bright Eyes remain;
And of Revenge blind Cupid muſt deſpair,
As long's the lovely Sex are grac'd with Hair;
They'll yield the conquering Glories of their Heads,
To form around his Beauty eaſy Shades;
And in Return, Thalia ſpaes and ſings,
His lop'd off Locks ſhall ſparkle in their Rings.
TO SOME
YOUNG LADIES
Who had been diſpleas'd at a Gentleman's too imprudently alerting,
That to be condemn'd to perpetual Virginity was the
greateſt Puniſhment could be inflicted on any of their Sex.
WHETHER condemn'd to a Virgin State
By the ſuperiour Powers,
Would to your Sex prove cruel Fate,
I'm ſure it would to ours.
FROM you the numerous Nations ſpring,
Your Breaſts our Beings ſave,
Your Beauties snake the youthful ſing,
And ſooth the old and grave.
ALAS! How ſoon would every Wight
Deſpiſe both Wit and Arms,
To primitive old Chaos Night
We'd ſink without your Charms.
NO more our Breath would be our Care,
Were Love from us exil'd,
Sent back to Heaven with all the Fair,
This World would turn a Wild.
REGARDLESS of theſe ſacred Tyes,
Wife, Husband, Father, Son,
All Government we would deſpiſe,
And like wild Tygers run.
THEN, Ladies, pardon the Miſtake,
And with th' accus'd agree,
I beg it for each Lover's ſake,
Low bended on my Knee.
AND frankly wiſh what has been ſaid
By the audacious Youth,
Might be your Thought, but I'm afraid
It will not prove a Truth.
FOR often, ah! you make us groan
By your too cold Diſdain,
Then quarrel with us when we moan
And rave amidſt our Pain.
To Mr. Joſeph Mitchel on the ſucceſsful Repreſentation
of a Tragedy wrote by him.
BUT Jealouſie, dear Joſ, which aft gives Pain
To ſcrimpit Sauls, I own my ſell right vain
To ſee a native truſty Friend of mine,
Sae brawly 'mang our bleezing Billies ſhine.
Yes, wherefore no, thaw them the frozen North
Can towring Minds with heav'nly Heat bring forth;
Minds that can mount with an uncommon Wing,
And frae black heath'ry headed Mountains ſing,
As ſaft as he that Haughs Heſperian trades,
Or leans beneath the Aromatick Shades.
Bred to the Love of Lit'rature and Arms,
Still ſomething great a Scottiſh Boſom warms:
Tho nurs'd on Ice, and educate in Snaw,
Honour and Liberty eags him to draw
A Hero's Sword, or an heroick Quill,
The monſt'rous Faes of Right and Wit to kill.
WELL may ye further in your leal Deſign,
To thwart the Gawks, and gar the Brethren tine
The wrang Opinion which they lang have had,
That a' which mounts the Stage---- is ſurely bad.
Stupidly dull! But Fools ay Fools will be,
And nane's ſae blind as them that winna ſee.
Where's Vice and Virtue ſet in juſter Light?
Where can a glancing Genius ſhine mair bright?
Where can we humane Life review mair plain,
Than in the happy Plot and curious Scene?
IF in themſells ſic fair Deſigns were
We ne'er had priev'd the ſweet drammatick Skill
Of Congrave, Adiſon, Steel, Rowe and Hill;
Hill, wha the higheſt Road to Fame doth chuſe,
And has ſome upper Seraph for his Muſe:
It maun be ſae, elſe how could he diſplay
With ſo juſt Strengh the great tremenduous Day.
SIC Patterns, Joſeph, always keep in View.
Ne'er faſh if ye can pleaſe the thinking Few,
Then ſpite of Malice Worth ſhall have its due.
Colin and Griſy parting.
A SONG, to the Tune of Woes my Heart that
we ſhou'd ſunder.
WITH broken Words and downcaſt Eyes,
Poor Colin ſpoke his Paſſion tender,
And parting with his Griſy, cries,
Ah! Woes my Heart that we ſhould ſunder.
To others I am cold as Snow,
But kindle with thine Eyes like Tinder;
From thee with Pain I'm forc'd to go,
It breaks my Heart that we ſhould ſunder.
CHAIN'D to thy Charms I cannot range,
No Beauty new my Love ſhall hinder,
Nor Time nor Place ſhall ever change
My Vows, tho we're oblig'd to ſunder.
THE Image of thy graceful Air,
And Beauties which invite our Wonder,
Thy lively Wit and Prudence rare
Shall ſtill be preſent tho we ſunder.
DEAR Nymph believe thy Swain in this,
You'l ne'er engage a Heart that's kinder,
Then ſeal a Promiſe with a Kiſs,
Always to love me tho we ſunder.
YE Gods take Care of my dear Laſs,
That as I leave her I may find her,
When that bleſt Time ſhall come to paſs
We'll meet again and never ſunder.
Spoken to two young Ladies who asked if I could ſay any thing
on them: One excell'd in a beautiful Complection, the other in
fine Eyes.
To the firſt.
UPON your Cheek ſits blooming Youth.
To the other.
Heaven ſparkles in your Eye.
To both.
There's ſomething ſweet about each Mouth,
Dear Ladies let me try.
The Mill, Mill, --- O.
A
SONG.
BENEATH a green Shade I fand a fair Maid
Was ſleeping ſound and ſtill — O,
A' Iowan wi' Love my Fancy did rove,
Around her with good Will — O;
Her Boſom I preſs'd, but ſunk in her Reſt
She ſtirdna my Joy to ſpill — O:
While kindly ſhe ſlept cloſe to her I crept,
And kiſs'd, and kiſs'd her my fill — O.
OBLIG'D by Command in Flanders to land,
T'employ my Courage and Skill — O;
Frae'er quietly I ſtaw, hois'd Sails and awa,
For Wind blew fair on the Bill — O.
Twa Years brought me hame, where loud fraiſing Fame
Tald me with a Voice right ſhill — O,
My Laſs like a Fool had mounted the Stool.
Nor kend wha'd done 'er the Ill — O.
MAIR fond of her Charms, with my Son in her Arms,
I ferlying ſpeer'd how ſhe fell — O,
Wi' the Tear in her Eye, quoth ſhe, let me die,
Sweet Sir, gin I can tell — O.
Love we the Command, I took her by th' Hand,
And bade her a' Fears expell — O,
And nae mair look wan, for I was the Man
Wha had done her the Deed my fell — O.
MY bonny ſweet Laſs on the gowany Graſs,
Beneath the Shilling-hill — O.
If I did Offence I'ſe make ye Amends
Before I leave Peggy's-Mill — O.
O the Mill, Mill — O, and the Kill, Kill — O.
And the Cogging of the Wheel — O;
The Sack and the Sive, a' thae ye maun leave,
And round with a Soger reel — O.
15. The Stool] viz. Of repentance.
26 Shilling-hill] Where they winnow the Chaff from the Corns.
The Poets Wiſh: An ODE.
Quid dedicatum poſcit Apollinem
Vates? —
HOR.
FRAE great Apollo, Poet ſay,
What is thy Wiſh, what wadſt thou hae,
When thou bows at his Shrine?
Not Karſs o' Gowrie's fertile Field,
Nor a' the Flocks the Grampians yield,
That are baith ſleek and fine:
Not coſtly Things brought frae afar,
As Ivory, Pearl and Gems;
Nor thoſe fair Straths that water'd are
With Tay and Tweed's ſmooth Streams,
Which gentily and daintily
Eat down the flowry Braes,
As greatly and quietly
They wimple to the Seas.
WHAEVER by his kanny Fate
Is Maſter of a good Eſtate,
4. Karſs of Gowrie] A large and fertile Plain on the Tay, in the Shire of
Perth.
That can ilk Thing afford,
Let him enjoy't withoutten Care,
And with the Wale of curious Fare
Cover his ample Board.
Much dawted by the Gods is he,
Wha to the Indian Plain,
Succeſsfu' ploughs the wally Sea,
And ſafe returns again,
With Riches that hitches
Him high aboon the reſt
Of ſma' Fowk, and a' Fowk
That are wi' Poortith preſt.
FOR me I can be well content
To eat my Bannock on the Bent,
And kitchen't wi' freſh Air;
Of Lang-kail I can make a Feaſt,
And cantily had up my Creſt,
And laugh at Diſhes rare.
Nought frae Apollo I demand,
But throw a lengthen'd Life
My outer Fabrick firm may ſtand,
And Saul clear without Strife.
May he then but gie then
Thoſe Bleſſings for my Skair,
I'll fairly and ſquairly
Quite a' and ſeek nae mair.
The Reſponſe of the Oracle.
To keep thy Saul frae puny Strife,
And heeze thee our of vulgar Life,
We in a morning Dream
Whiſper'd our Will concerning thee,
To Marlus ſtretch'd beneath a Tree,
Hard by a pop'ling Stream,
He full of me ſhall point the Way,
Where thou a STAR ſhalt ſee,
The Influence of whoſe bright Ray,
Shall wing thy Muſe to flee.
Mair ſpeer no, and fear na
But ſet thy Mind to reſt,
Aſpire ay ſtill high'r ay,
And always hope the beſt.
THE
CONCLUSION.
After the Manner of Horace,ad librum ſuum.
DEAR vent'rous Book, e'en take thy Will,
And ſcowp around the Warld thy fill:
Wow! ye're newfangle to be ſeen,
In guilded Turky clade, and clean.
Daft giddy Thing! to dare thy Fate,
And ſpang o'er Dikes that ſcar the blate
But mind when anes ye're to the Bent,
(Altho in vain) ye may repent.
Alake, I'm flied thou aften meet,
A Gang that will thee ſourly treat,
And ca' thee dull for a' thy Pains,
When Damps diſtreſs their drouzie Brains..
I dinna doubt whilſt thou art new,
Thoul't Favour find fiae not a few,
But when thou'ſt rufl'd and forfairn,
Sair thumb'd by ilka Coof or Bairn;
Then, then by Age ye may grow wiſe,
And ken things common gies nae Price.
I'd fret, wae's me! to ſee the lye
Beneath the Bottom of a Pye,
Or cow'd out Page by Page to wrap
Up Snuff, or Sweeties in a Shap.
AWAY ſic Fears, gat ſpread my Fame,
And fix me an immortal Name;
Ages to come ſhall thee revive,
And gar thee with new Honours live.
The future Criticks I forſee
Shall have their Notes on Notes on thee:
The Wits unborn ſhall Beauties find
That never enter'd in my Mind.
NOW when thou tells how I was bred,
But hough enough to a mean Trade;
32. Hough enough] Very indifferently.
To ballance that, pray let them ken
My Saul to higher Pitch cou'd ſten:
And when ye ſhaw I'm ſcarce of Gear,
Gar a' my Virtues ſhine mair clear.
Tell, I the beſt and faireſt pleaſe,
A little Man that loo's my Eaſe,
And never thole theſe Paſſions lang
That rudely mint to do me wrang.
GIN ony want to ken my Age,
See Anno Dom. on Title Page;
This Year when Springs by Care and Skill
The ſpacious leaden Conduits fill,
And firſt flow'd up the Caſtle-hill.
When South-Sea Projects ceaſe to thrive,
And only North-Sea ſeems alive,
Tell them your Author's Thirty five.
44. The ſpacious, &c.] The new Lead Pipes for conveying Water to
Edinburgh, of 4½
Inches Diameter within, and 6⁄10 of an Inch in thickneſs; all caſt in a
Mould invented by
the ingenious Mr. Harding of London.
A
GLOSSARY,
OR,
EXPLANATION of the Scots Wards us'd
by the Author, which are rarely or never
found in the modern Engliſh Writings.
Some general Rules ſhewing wherein many Southern and Northern
Words are originally the ſame, having only a Letter
changed for another, or ſometimes one taken away or added.
I. In many Words ending with an l. after
an a. or u. the l. is rarely ſounded
II. The l. changes to a. w. or u. after
o. or a. and is frequently ſunk before another
Conſonant; as,
Scots.	Engliſh.
A	ALL.
Ba,	Ball.
Ca,	Call.
Fa,	Fall.
Ga,	Gall.
Ha,	Hall:
Sma,	Small.
Sta,	Stall.
Wa,	Wall.
Fou, or fu,	Full.
Pou, or pu,	Pull.
Woo, or U,	Wool.
Scots.	Engliſh.
BAwm,	BAlm.
Bauk,	Baulk.
Bouk,	Bulk.
Bow,	Boll.
Bowt,	Bolt.
Caff,	Calf.
Cow,	Coll or Clip,
Faut	Fault.
Fauſe,	Falſe.
Fowk,	Folk.
Fawn,	Fallen.
Scots.	Engliſh.
Gowd,	Gold.
Haff,	Half.
How,	Hole or Hollow.
Howms,	Holms.
Maut,	Malt.
Pow,	Poll.
Row,	Roll.
Scawd,	Scald.
Stown,	Stoln.
Wawk,	Walk.
.III. An o. before ld. changes to an a. or
au; as,
Scots.	Engliſh.
AUld,	OLd
Bauld,	Bold.
Cauld,	Cold.
Fauld,	Fold.
Hald, or Had,	Hold.
Sald,	Sold..
Tald,	Told.
Wad,	Would.
IV. 'The o, oe, or ow is changed to a, ae,
aw, or ai; as,
Scots.	Engliſh.
AE., or ane,	ONe.
Aeten,	Oaten.
Aff.	Off.
Aften,	Often.
Aik,	Oak.
Aith,	Oath.
Ain, or awn,	Own.
Alane,	Alone.
Amaiſt,	Almoſt.
Amang,	Among.
Airs,	Oars.
Aits,	Oats.
Apen,	Open.
Awner,	Owner,
Bain,	Bone.
Bair,	Boar.
Baith,	Both.
Scots.
Blaw,
Braid,
Claith,
Craw,
Drap,
Fae,
Frae,
Gae,
Gaits,
Grane,
Haly,
Hale,
Haleſom,
Hame,
Hair, or Het,
La
Laid,
Lain, or Len,
Lang,
Law,
Mae,
Maiſt,
Mair,
Mane,
Maw,
Na,
Nane,
Naithing,
Pape,
Rae,
Rair,
Raip,
Raw,
Saft,
Saip,
Sair,
Sang,
Slaw,
Snaw,
Strake,
Staw,
Stane,
Saul,
Tae,
Taiken,
Scots.	Engliſh.
Tangs,	Tongs.
Tap,	Top.
Thrang,	Throng.
Wae,	Woe.
Wame,	Womb.
Wan,	Won.
War,	Worſe.
Wark,	Work.
Warld,	World.
Wha,	Who.
V. The o. or u. is frequently changed into
i; as,
Scots.	Engliſh.
ANither,	ANother.
Bill,	Bull.
AB
Scots.	Engliſh.
Birn,	Burn.
Brither,	Brother.
Fit,	Foot.
Fither,	Fother.
Hinny,	Hony.
Ither,	Other.
Mither,	Mother.
Nits,	Nuts.
Niſe,	Noſe.
Pit,	Put.
Rin,	Run.
Sin,	Sun.
AB
ABlins, Perhaps.
Aboon, Above.
Aikerbraid, The Breadth of
an Acre.
Air, Long ſince. It. Early. Air up, Soon
up in the Morning.
Anew, Enow.
Arles, Earneſt of a Bargain.
Atains, or Atanes, At once, at the ſame
Time.
Auld farran, Ingenious.
Au glebargin, or Eqgglebargin, To contend
and wrangle.
Aynd, The Breath.
BA
BAck ſey, A Surloin.
Baid, Stayed, abode.
Bairns, Children.
Balen. Whale-bone
BA
Bang, Is ſometimes an Action of Haſte:
We ſay he or it came with a Bang.---
A Bang alſo means a great Number.
Of Cuſtomers ſhe had a Bang,
Bang ſter, A bluſtering roaring Perſon.
Bannocks, A Sort of Bread thicker than
Cakes, and round.
Barken'd, When mire, Blood, &c. hardens
upon a Thing like Bark.
Barlikhood, A Fit of Paſſion or ill Humor.

Barrow Trams, The Staves of a Hand--
barrow.
Batts, Colick.
Bawbie, Halfpenny.
Bawſy, Bawſand fac'd, is a Cow or Horſe
with a white Face.
Bedeen, Immediately; in haſte.
Beſt, Beaten.
Begoud, Began,
Begrutten, All in Tears
Beik, To Bask.
BeiId, Shelter.
Bein, or Been, Wealthy. A been Houſe,
A warm well furniſhed one.
Beit, or Beet, To help, repair.
Bells, Bubles,
Beltan, The 3d of May, or Rood day.
Banded, Drunk hard.
Benn, The Inner-room of a Houſe.
Benniſon, Bleſſing.
Benſell, or Benſail, Force.
Bent, The open Field.
Beuk, Baked.
Bicker, A wooden Diſh
Bickering, Fighting, Running quickly,
School Boys battling with Stones.
Bigg, Build. Bigget, Built. Biggings.
Buildings.
Billy, Brother.
Bire or Byar, A Cow ſtall.
Birks, Birch Trees.
Birle, To drink. Common People joining
their Farthings for purchaſing
Liquor, they call it Birling a Bawbie.
Birn, A burnt mark.
Birr, Force, flying ſwiftly with a
Noiſe.
Birs'd, Bruiſed.
Bittle, or Beetle, A wooden Mell for
beating Hemp, or a Fuller's Club.
Black-a-vic'd, Of a black Complexion.
Blae, Pale blew, the Colour of the Skin
when bruiſed. 'Tis uſed as a Proverb,when
one looks pale or out of
Countenance, He looks blae-fac'd.
Blate, Baſhfull.
Blatter, A rattling, Noiſe.
Blether, Fooliſh Diſcourſe. Bletherer, A
Babbler. Stammering, is called Blethering.

Blin, Ceaſe. Never blin, Never have
done.
Blinkan, The Flame riſing and falling,
as of a Lamp when the Oil is exhauſted.

Boak, or boke, Vomit.
Bodin, or bodden, Provided or furniſhed.
Bodle, Two Pennies Scots, or 1⁄6 of a
Penny Engliſh.
Bodword, An ominous Meſſage. Bodwords
are now uſed to expreſs ill-natur'd
Meſſages.
Boglebo, Hobgoblin or Spectre.
Boſs, Empty. Applied to a Reed, Bone,
or Head. &c.
Bourd, Jeſt or Dalley. We ſay, A ſootle
Bourd is nae Bourd.
Bouze, To drink.
Bracken, A Kind of Water Gruel of
Oat-meal, butter and Honey.
Brae, The Side of a Hill. Bank of a
River.
Brander, A Gridiron.
Brands, Calves of the Legs.
Branken, Prancing. A capering.
Branks, Wherewith the Ruſticks bridle
their Horſes. A Halter fixt to two
Pieces of Wood, which hang on
ther Side of the Noſe.
Bratle, Noiſe, as of Horſe Feet.
Brats, Bags.
Braw, Brave. Fine in Apparel.
Brecken, Fearn.
Brent-brow, Smooth high Fore-head.
Brigs, Bridges.
Brock, A Badger.
Browden, Fond.
Bromſter, Brewer.
Bruliment, A Broil.
Bucky, The large Sea Snail. A Term
of Reproach, when we expreſs a croſs
natur'd Fellow by thrawn Bucky.
Buff, Nonſenſe. As, He blether'd Buff,
Bught, The little Fold where the Ews
ar incloſed at Milking-time.
Buller, To bubble. The Motion of Water
at a Spring head, or Noiſe of a
riſing Tide.
Bumbazed, Confuſed. Made to ſtare and
look like an idiot.
Bung, Completely fudled, as it were to
the Bung.
Bunkers, A Bench, or Sort of long low
Cheſts that ſerve for Seats.
Bumler, A Bungler. One that cannot
perform his Work handſomely.
Burn, A Brook. Any little Torrent of
Water.
Busk, To deck. Dreſs
Bustine Fuſtian (Cloath.)
But, Often, for without. As, But Feed or
Favour.
Bykes,or Bikes, Neſts or Hives of Bees or
Piſmires.
CA
CAdge, Carry. Cadger is a Country
Carrier, who jogs about with his
Fiſh, Fowls, Eggs, &c.
Callan, Boy.
Camſchough, Stern, grim, of a diſtorted
Countenance.
Cankerd, Angry, paſſionately ſnarling.
Canna, Cannot.
Cant, To tell merry old Tales.
Canty, Chearful and merry.
Capenoited, Whimſical. One who has
got a Blow or Knoit on the Head that
has turned his Judgment wrong.
natur'd.
Car, Sledge.
Carle, An old Word for a Man.
Carline, An old Woman. Gire-Carling,
A Giant's Wife.
Cathel, An hot Pot, made of Ale, Sugar
and Eggs.
Cauldriſe, Spiritleſs. Wanting chearfulneſs
in Addreſs.
Cauler, Cool or freſh.
Chafts, Chops.
Chaping, An Ale Meaſure or Stoup,
ſomewhat leſs than an Engliſh Quart
A-Char, or A-jar, Aſide. When any
Thing is beat a little out of its Poſition,
or a Door or Window a little
open'd, we ſay they're a-Char, or a--
jar.
Charlemain, Charles-wain. The Conſtellation
called the Plow,or Urſa major.
Chancy, Fortunate, good natur'd.
Chat, A cant Name for the Gallows.
Chiel, A general Term, like Fellow, uſed
ſometimes with Reſpect; as, He's a
verygood Chiel; and contemptuouſly,
That Chiel.
Chirm, Chirp and ſing like a Bird.
Chucky, A Hen.
Clan, Tribe, Family.
Clank, The Din of a Pot Lid, when the
Drinker makes it ſpeak for more
Liquor; or, a ſharp Blow.
Claſhes, Chat.
Claught, Took hold.
Claw, Scratch.
Cleek, To catch as with a Hook;
Cleugh, A Den betwixt Rocks.
Clinty, Hard, ſtonny.
Clock, Beetle.
Cloited, The Fall of any ſoft moiſt
Thing. When one falls careleſly,
he's ſaid to cloit down.
Cloſs, A Court or Square. And frequently
a Lane or Alley.
Clour, The little Lump that riſes on
the Head, occaſioned by a Blow or
Fall.
Clute, Hoof, of Cows or Sheep.
Cockernony, The gathering of a Woman's
Hair, when 'tis wrapt or ſnooded up
with a Band or Snood.
Cod, A Pillow.
Cog, A pretty large wooden Diſh the
Country People put their Potage in.
Cogle, When a Thing moves backwards
and forwards, inclining to fall.
Coof, A ſtupid Fellow.
Cooſer, A Ston'd Horſe.
Cooſt, Did caſt. Cooſten, Thrown.
Corby, A Raven.
Cotter, A Sub-tenant.
Cowp, To fall; alſo a Fall.
Cowp, To change or Barter.
Cowp, A Company of People. As merry,
ſenſeleſs, corky Cowp.
Cour, To crouch and creep.
Creel, Basket.
Criſh, Greaſe.
Croon, or Crune, To murmure, or hum o'er
a Song. The Lowing of Bulls.
Crouſe, Bold.
Cryn, Shrink, or become leſs by drying.
Culzie, Intice or flatter.
Cun, To taſte. Learn. Know.
Cunzie, or Coonie, Coin.
Curſche, A Kerchief. A Linnen Drefs
wore by our Highland Women.
Cutled, Uſed kind and gaining Methods
for obtaining Love and Friendſhip,
like little Children preſſing in upon,
and pratling agreeably to their Parents.

Cutts, Lots. Theſe Cutts are uſually
made of Straws unequally cut, which
one hides between his Finger and
Thumb, while another draws his
Fate.
Cutty, Short:
DA
DAd, To beat one Thing againſt another.
He fell with a Dad. He
dadded his Head againſt the Wall,
&c.
Daft, Fooliſh. And ſometimes Wanton.
Daffin, Folly. Wagrie.
Dail, or Dale, A Valley. Plain.
Daintiths, Delicates, Dainties.
Dainty, Is uſed as an Epithet of a
fine Man or Woman.
Dander, Wander to and fro,or ſaunter.
Dang, Did ding, Beat. Thruſt. Drive.
Ding, Dang, Moving haſtily one on
the Back of another.
Dawty, A fondling, Darling. To dawt,
To cocker, and careſs with tenderneſs.

Deave, To ſtun the Ears with Noiſe
Deray, Merriment. Jollity. Solemnity.
Tumult. Diſorder. Noiſe.
Dern, Secret. Hidden. Lonely. When
one has hid himſelf, we ſay, He's
dern'd in ſome Place.
Deval, To deſcend. Fall, Hurry, or
dip down.
Dewgs, Rags or Shapings of Cloath.
Didle, To act or move like a Dwarf.
Dight, Deck'd. Made ready. Alſo, to
clean.
Dinna, Do not.
Dirle, A ſmarting Pain quickly over.
Dit,To ſtop or cloſe up a Hole. Dit
ye'r Gab wi' ye'r Meat.
Divet, Broad Turf.
Docken, A Dock, (the Herb.)
Doilt, Confuſed and ſilly.
Doited, Dozed or crazy, as in old Age.
Daft young, and doited auld, the two
Times of fooliſh Marriage.
Doll, A large Piece, Dole or Share.
Donk, Moiſt.
Donſie, Affectedly neat. Clean, when
applied to any little Perſon.
Doofart, A dull heavy headed Fellow.
Dool, or Drule, The Goal which Gameſters
ſtrive to gain firſt (as at Football.)

Dorts, A proud Pet.
Dorty, Proud. Not to be ſpoke to.
Conceited, appearing as diſobliged.
Dought. Could. Avail'd.
Doughty, Strong, valiant and able.
Douks, Dives under Water.
Douſe, Solid. Grave. Prudent.
Dow, To Will. To incline. To thrive.
To do good.
Dow'd, (Liquor) that's dead, or has loſt
the Spirits. Or, (wither'd) Plant.
Dowff, Mournful, wanting Vivacity.
Dowie, Melancholy. Sad. Doleful.
Downa, Dow not, i.e. Tho one has the
Power, he wants the Heart to it.
Dowp, The A---ſe. The ſmall Remains
of a Candle. The Bottom of an Eggſhell.
Better haff Egg as toom dowp.
Dront, To ſpeak ſlow, after a ſighing
Manner.
Dree, To ſuffer. Endure.
Dreery, Wearyſome. Frightfull.
Dreigh, Slow, keeping at Diſtance.
Hence an ill Payer of his Debts, we
call Dreigh. Or when on Journey,
if the Way prove longer than
we expected, we ſay, 'Tis a dreigh
Road.
Dribs, Drops.
Drizel, A little Water in a Rivulet,
ſcarce appearing to run.
Droning, Sitting lazily, or moving
heavily. Speaking with Groans.
Drouked, Drench'd. All wet.
Dubs, Mire.
Dunt, Stroke or Blow.
Durk, A Poinyard or Dagger.
Dynles Trembles. Shakes. To have a
Touch of a Pain, as Gout or Toothach.

Dyver, A Bankrupt.
EA
EAgs, Incites. Stirs up.
Eard, Earth. The Ground.
Edge, Of a Hill, is the Side or Top.
Een, Eyes.
Eild, Age.
Eith. Eaſy. Eithar, Eaſier.
Elbuck, Elbow.
Elfſhot, See Note on Patie and Roger
Line 42.
Elſon, A Shoe-maker's Awl.
Elritch, Wild. Hideous. Uninhabited,
except by imaginary Ghoſts.
Endlang, Along.
Ergh, Scrupulous. When one makes
faint Attemps to do a Thing without
a ſteady Reſolution.
Erſt, Time paſt.
Eſtler, Hewn Stone. Buildings of ſuch
we call Eſtler-work.
Ether, An Adder.
Etle, To aim. Deſign.
Eydent, Diligent. Laborious;
FA
FA, A Trap, ſuch as is uſed for catching
Rats or Mice.
Fadge, A Spungy Sort of Bread in Shape
of a Roll.
Fag, To tire, or turn weary.
Fail, Thick Turf, ſuch as are uſed for
building Dikes for Folds, Incloſures,
&c.
Fain, This Word uſed in England expreſſes
a Deſire or Willingneſs to do
a Thing; as, Fain would I. Beſides
its being uſed in the ſame Senſe with
us, it likewiſe means Joyful, tickled
with Pleaſure. As, As fain as a Fidler.
Fait, Neat. In good Order.
Fairfaw, When we wiſh well to one.
That a good or fair Fate may befal
him.
Faſh, Vex or Trouble. Faſhous, Troubleſome.

Faugh, A Colour between white and
red. Faugh Rigs, Fallow Ground.
Feck, A Part, Quantity; as, Maiſt
Feck, The greateſt Number. Nae
Feck, Very few.
Feckfow, Able. Active.
Feckleſs, Feeble, little and weak.
Feed, Feud. Hatred. Quarrel.
Feil, Many. Several.
Fen, Shift. Fending, Living by Induſtry.
Make a Fen, Fall upon Methods.
Ferlie, Wonder.
Fernzier, The laſt or fore-run Year.
File, To defile or dirty.
Fireflaught, A Flaſh of Lightning.
Fiſtle, To ſtir. A Stir.
Fitſted, The Print of the Foot.
Fizzing, Whizzing.
Flaffing, Moving up and down, raiſing
Wind by Motion, as Birds with their
Wings.
Flags, Flaſhes, as of Wind and Fire.
Flane, An Arrow.
Flang, Flung.
Flaughter, To pare Turf from the
Ground.
Fleetch, To cox.
Fleg, Fright.
Flewet, A ſmart Blow on the Head.
Fley, or flie, To affright. Fleyt, Afraid
or terrified.
Flinders, Splinters.
Flit, To remove.
Flite, or Flyte, To ſcold. Chide. Flet,
Did ſcold.
Fluſhes, Floods.
Fog, Moſs.
Foordays, The Morning far advanc'd.
Fair Day-light.
Forby, Beſides.
Forebears, Forefathers. Anceſtors.
Forfairn, Abuſed. Beſpatter'd.
Forfoughten, Weary, faint and out of
Breath with Fighting.
Forgainſt, Oppoſite to.
Foregether, To meet. Encounter.
Forleet, To forſake.
Foreſtam, The Fore-head.
Fouth, Abundance. Plenty.
Fozie, Spungy. Soft.
Frais, To make a Noiſe. We uſe to
ſay one make a Frais, when they boaſt,
wonder, and talk more of a Matter
than it is worthy of, or will bear.
Freik, A fool, light, impertinent Fellow.
Fremit, Strange. Not a Kin.
Friſted, Truſted.
Fruſh, Brittle, like Bread baken with
Butter.
Fuff, To blow, Fuffin, Blowing.
Furder, Proſper.
Furthy, Forward.
Fuſh, Brought.
Fyk, To be reſtleſs. Uneaſy.
GA
GAb, The Mouth. To prat. Gab ſae
gaſh.
Gabbing, Prating pertly. To gab again,
When Servants give ſaucy Returns
when reprimanded.
Gabby, One of a ready and eaſy Expreſſion.
The ſame with auld Gabbet.
Gadge, To dictate impertinently. Talk
idly with a ſtupid Gravity.
Gafaw, A hearty loud Laughter. To
Gawf, Laugh.
Gams, Gums.
Gar, To cauſe, make, or force.
Gare, Greedy, Rapacious, earneſt to
have a Thing.
Gaſh, Solid, Sagacious. One with a
long out Chin, we call Gaſh, Gabbet,
Or Gaſh Beard.
Gate, Way.
Gaunt, Yawn.
Gawky, Idle, ſtaring, idiotical Perſon.
Gawn, Going.
Gawſy, Jolly, Buxom.
Geck, To mock.
Geed, or Gade, Went.
Genty, Handſome, Genteel.
Get, Brat. A Child, by Way of Contempt
or Deriſion.
Gif, If.
Gillygacus, Or Gilligapus, A ſtaring, gaping
Fool.
Gilpy, A roguiſh Boy.
Gimmer, A young Sheep (Ew.)
Gin, If.
Gird, To ſtrike, Pierce.
Girn, To Grin, Snarl. Alſo a Snare or
Trap, ſuch as Boys make of Horſe
Hair to catch Birds.
Girth, A Hoop.
Glaiks, An idle, good for nothing Fellow.
Glaiked, Fooliſh, Wanton, Light.
To give the Glaiks, To beguile one, by
giving him his Labour for his Pains.
Glaiſter, To bawl or bark.
Glamour, Jugling. When Devils, Wizards,
or Juglers deceive the Sight,
they are ſaid to caſt Glamour o'er the
Eyes of the Spectator.
Glar, Mire, ouzy Mud.
Glee, To ſquint.
Gleg, Sharp, Quick, Active.
Glen, A narrow Valley between Mountains.

Gloom, To ſcoul or frown.
Glowming, The Twilight, or Evening--
Gloom.
Glowr, To ſtare, look ſtern.
Glunſh, To hang the Brow and grumble.
Goan, A wooden Diſh for Meat.
Goolie, A large Knife.
Gorlings, or Gorblings, Young unfleg'd
Birds.
Goſſie, Goſſip.
Gowans, Dazies.
Gove, To look broad and ſtedfaſt, holding
up the Face.
Gowf, Beſides the known Game, a Racket
or ſound Blow on the Chaps, we
call a Gowf on the Haffet.
Gowk, The Cuckow. In Deriſion we
call a thoughtleſs Fellow, and one
who harps too long on one Subject,
a Gowk.
Cowl, A Howling, To bellow and
cry.
Gouſty, Ghaſtly, large, waſte, deſolate,
and frightful.
Granny, Grandmother, any old Woman.
Gree, Prize, Victory.
Green, To long for.
Greet, To weep. Grat, Wept.
Grieve, An Overſeer.
Grouf, To ly flat on the Belly.
Grounche, or Grunſh, To murmure,
grudge.
Gryſe, A Pig or young Swine.
Gumption, Good Sence.
Gurly, Rough, bitter, cold, (Weather.)
Gyſened, When the Wood of any Veſſel
is ſhrunk with dryneſs.
Gytlings, Young Children.
HA
HAffet, The Cheek. Side of the Head.
Hags, Hacks, Peat Pits,or Breaks
in moſſy Ground.
Hain, To ſave, manage narrowly.
Haleſome, Wholeſome; as, Hale, Whole.
Hallen, A Screen. See the Note Pag. 211.
Hameld, Domeſtick.
Hamely, Friendly, frank, open, kind.
Hanty, Convenient, handſome.
Harle, Drag.
Harns, Brains. Harn pan, The Scull.
Harſhip, Ruin.
Haveren, or Havrel, Sloven.
Haughs, Valleys, or low Grounds on
the Sides of Rivers.
Havins, Good Breeding.
Haws, The Throat, or fore Part of the
Neck.
Heal, or Heel, Health.
Heepy, A Perſon hypochondriack.
Heez, To lift up a heavy Thing a little;
A Heezy is a good Lift.
Heght, Promiſed, alſo named.
Hempy, A tricky Wag, ſuch for whom
the Hemp grows.
Hereit, Ruined in Eſtate, broke, ſpoil'd;
impoveriſht.
Heſp, A Claſp or Hook, Bar or Bolt;
alfo in Yarn a certain Number of
Threeds.
Heugh A Rock or ſteep Hill. Alſo a
Coal-pit.
Hiddils, or Hidlings, Lurking, hiding
Places. To do a Thing in hidlings,
i.e. Privately.
Hirple To move ſlowly and lamely.
Hirſle, To move as with a ruſtling Noiſe.
Ho, A ſingle Stocking.
Hool, Husk. Hool'd, incloſed.
Hooly, Slow.
Hoſt, or Whost, To cough.
How, Low Ground, a Hollow.
How! Ho!
Howk, To dig.
Howms, Plains on River Sides.
Howt! Fy!
Hurkle, To crouch or bow together like
a Cat, Hedge-hog, or Hare.
Hyt, Mad.
JA
JAck, Jacket.
Jag, To prick as with a Pin.
Jaw, A Wave or Guſh of Water.
Jawp, The Daſhing of Water.
Iceſhogles, Icicles.
Jee, To incline to one Side. To jee back
and fore, is to move like a Balk up
and down to this and the other Side.
Jig, To crack, make a Noiſe like a
Cart-wheel.
Jimp, Slender.
Ilk, Each. Ilka, Every.
Ingle, Fire.
Jo, Sweet-heart.
Jouk, A low Bow.
Irie, Fearful, terrified, as if afraid of
ſome Ghoſt or Apparition. Alſo Melancholy.

I'ſe, I ſhall; as I'll for I will.
Iſles, Embers.
Juns, A large Joint or Piece of Meat.
Jute, Sour or dead Liquor.
Jybe, To mock. Gibe, Taunt.
KA
KAber, A Rafter.
Kale, or Kail, Cole-wort,and ſometimes
Broth.
Kame, Comb.
Kanny, or Canny, Fortunate, alſo warry,
one who manages his Affairs diſcrectly.

Kebuck, A Cheeſe.
Keckle, To laugh, to be noiſie.
Kedgy, Jovial.
Keek, To peep.
Kemp, To ſtrive who ſhall perform moſt
of the ſame Work in the ſame Time,
equal to thaa Proverb, (Fool's Haſte
is no Speed) is, Kempers ſhear nae Corn.
Ken, To know; uſed in England as a
Noun. A Thing within Ken, i.e.
Within View.
Kent, A long Staff, ſuch as Shepherds
uſe for leaping over Ditches.
Kepp, To catch a Thing that moves towards
one.
Kieſt, Did caſt. Vid. Cooſt.
Kilted, Tuck'd up.
Kimmer, A Female Goſſip.
Kirn, A Churn. Item,To churn.
Kirtle, An upper Petticoat.
Kitchen, All Sort of Eatables except Bread
Kittle, Difficult, myſterious, knotty,
(Writings.)
Kittle, To tickle, tickliſh.
Knacky, Witty and facetious.
Knoit, To beat or ſtrike ſharply.
Knoos'd Buffeted and bruiſed.
Know, A Hillock.
Knublock, A Knob.
Knuckles, Only uſed in Scots for the
Joints of the Fingers next the Back
of the Hand.
Knuiſt, A Lump or large Quantity.
Kow, Goblin, or any Perſon one ſtands in aw to diſoblige, and fears.
Ky, Kine, or Cows.
Kyth, To appear. He'll kyth in his ain
Colours.
LA.
LAggert, Beſpatter'd, cover'd with
Clay.
Laigh, Low.
Laits, Manners.
Lak, or Lack, Undervalue, contemn;
as, He that laks my Mare, would buy
my mare.
Landart, The Country, or belonging
to it. Ruſtick.
Langour, Languiſhing, Melancholy. To
hold one out of Langour, i.e. Divert
him.
Lankale, Coleworts uncut down.
Lap, Leaped.
Lapper'd, Crudled, or clotted.
Lare, A Place for lying, or that has
been layn in.
Lare, Bog.
Lave, The Reſt, or Remainder.
Lawin, A Tavern Reckoning.
Lawland, Low Country.
Lavrock, The Lark.
Lawty, or Lawtith, Juſtice, Fidelity,
Honeſty.
Leal, True, upright, honeſt,faithful to
truſt, loyal. A leal Heart never lied.
Lear, Learning, to learn.
Lee, Untill'd Ground; alſo an open
Graſſy Plain.
Leglen, A Milking-Pale with one Lug
or Handle.
Lends, Buttocks, Loyns.
Leugh, Laughed.
Lew warm, Lukewarm.
Libbit, Gelded.
Lick, To whip or beat. It. A Wag or
Cheat, we call a great Lick.
Liſt, The Sky or Firmament.
Liggs, Lyes.
Lills, The Holes of a Wind lnſtrument
of Muſick; hence, Lilt up a Spring.
Lilt it out, Take off your Drink merrily.

Limp, To halt.
Lin, A Cataract.
Ling, Quick Carrier in a ſtraight Line;
to gallop.
Lingle, Cord, Shoe-makers Threed.
Linkan, Walking ſpeedily.
Lire, Breaſts. Item, The moſt muſcular
Parts; ſometimes the Air or
Complexion of the Face.
Lisk, The Flank.
Lith, A Joint.
Loan, A little Common near to Country
Villages where they milk their Cows.
Loch, A Lake.
Loo, To love.
Loof, The Hollow of the Hand.
Looms, Tools, lnſtruments in general
Veſſels.
Loot, Did let.
Low, Flame. Lowan, Flaming.
Lown, Calm. Keep lown, Be ſecret. He
ſits ſou lown that has a riven Breech.
Loun, Rogue, Whore, Villain.
Lout, To bow down, making Courteſie.
To ſtoop.
Luck, To encloſe, ſhut up, faſten;
hence, Lucken handed, Cloſe Fiſted,
Lucken Gowan', Booths, &c.
Lucky, Grandmother, or Goody.
Lug, Ear, Handle of a Pot or Veſſel.
Lyart, Hoary or Gray-hair'd.
MA
MAgil, To mangle.
Maik, or Make, Match, Equal.
Maikleſs, Matchleſs.
Makly, Seemly, well proportion'd.
Maliſon, A Curſe, Malediction.
Mangit, Gall'd or bruiſed by Toil or
Stripes.
Mank, A Want.
Mant, To ſtammer in Speech.
March, or Merch, A Land-mark, Border
of Lands.
Marh, The Marrow.
Marrow, Mate, Fellow, Equal, Comrad.
We ſay, Half-marrow, Husband or
Wife, and the Marrow of a Shoe or
Glove.
Mask, To mash, in Brewing. Masking
Loom, Mash-Vat.
Maun, Muſt. Maunna, Muſt not, may
not.
Meikle, Much, big, great, large.
Meith, Limit, Mark, Sign.
Mends, Satisfaction, Revenge, Retaliation.
To make a Mends, To make a
grateful Return.
Menſe, Diſcretion, Sobriety, good Breeding.
Mensfou, Mannerly.
Menzie, Company of Men, Army, Aſſembly,
one's Followers.
Meſſen, A little Dog, Lap-dog.
Midding, A Dunghill.
Midges, Gnats, little Flies.
Mim, Affectedly modeſt.
Mint, Aim, endeavour.
Mirk, Dark.
Miſcaw, To give Names.
Miſchance, Misfortune.
Misken, To neglect or not take Notice
of one; alſo, Let alone.
Miſtuſhous, Malicious, Rough.
Miſters, Neceſſities, Wants.
Mony, Many.
Mou, Mouth.
Mow, A Pile or Bing, as of Fewel, Hay,
Sheaves of Corn, &c.
Moup, To eat, generally uſed of Children,
or of old People, who have but
few Teeth, and make their Lips
move faſt, tho they eat but ſlow.
Muckle, See Meikle.
Murgullied, Miſmanaged, abuſed.
Mutch, Coif.
Mutchken, An Engliſh Pint.
NA
NAcky, or Knacky, Clever, active in
ſmall Affairs.
Neeſe, Noiſe.
Netle, To fret or vex.
Newfangle, Fond of a new Thing.
Nevel, A ſound Blow with the Nive or
Fiſt.
Nick, To bite or cheat. Nicked, Cheated;
alſo as a cant Word, to drink
heartily; as, He nicks fine.
Nieſt, Next.
Niffer, To exchange or barter.
Nither, To ſtraiten. Nithered, Hungered
or half ſtarv'd in Maintenance.
Nive, The Fiſt.
Nock, Notch or Nick of an Arrow or
Spindle.
Noit, See Knoit.
Nowt, Cows, Kine.
Nowther, Neither.
Nuckle, New calv'd (Cows.)
OE
OE, A Grandchild.
O'er, or Owre, Too much; as, A
O'ers is Vice.
O'ercome, Superplus.
Ony, Any.
Or, Sometimes uſed for e'er or before.
Or Day, i.e. Before Day break.
Oughtlens, In the leaſt.
Owſen, Oxen.
Owthir, Either.
Oxter, The Arm Pit.
PA.
PAddock, A Frog. Paddock Ride,
The Spawn of Frogs.
Paiks, Chaſtiſement. To paik, To beat
or belabour one ſoundly.
Pang, To ſqueez, preſs or pack one
Thing into another.
Paughty, Proud, haughty.
Pawky, Witty or ſly in Word or Action,
without any Harm or bad Deſigns.

Peer, A Key or Wharf.
Peets, Turf for Fire.
Peh, To pant.
Penſy, Finical, foppiſh, conceited.
Perquire, By Heart.
Pett, A Favourite, a Fondling. To
pettle, To dandle feed, cheriſh, flatter.
Hence to take the Pett, is to be peeviſh,
or ſullen, as commonly Petts are
when in the leaſt diſobliged.
Pibroughs, Such Highland Tunes as are
play'd on Bag-Pipes before them
when they go out to Battle.
Pig, An Earthen Pitcher.
Pike, To pick, pick out, or chuſe.
Pimpin, Pimping, mean, ſcurvy.
Pine, Pain or Pining.
Pingle, To contend, ſtrive or work hard.
Pirn, The Spool or Quill within the
Shutle,which receives the Yarn. Pirny,
(Cloath or a Web) of unequal Threeds
or Colours, ſtripped.
Pith, Strength, Might, Force.
Plack, Two Bodies, or the 3d of a Penny
Engliſh.
Pople, or Paple, The Bubling, Purling
or Boyling up of Water. (Popling.)
Poortith, Poverty.
Powny, A little Horſe or Galloway;
alſo a Turky.
Pouſe, To puſh.
Poutch, A Pocket.
Pratick, Practice, Art, Stratagem. Priving
Pratick, Trying ridiculous Experiments.

Prets, Tricks, Rogueries. We ſay,
plaid me a Pret, i.e. Cheated. The Callan's
fou of Prets, i.e. Has abundance
of waggiſh Tricks.
Prig, To cheapen, or importune for a
lower Price of Goods one is buying.
Prin, A Pin.
Price, To prove or taſte.
Propine, Gift, or Preſent.
Prym, or Prime, To fill, or ſtuff.
RA
RAckleſs, Careleſs. One who does
Things without regarding whether
they be good or bad, we call
him rackleſs Handed.
Raffan, Merry, roving, hearty.
Raird, A loud Sound.
Rak, or Rook, A Miſt or Fog.
Rampage, To ſpeak and act furiouſly:
Raſhes, Ruſhes.
Rave, Did rive or tear.
Raught, Reached.
Rax, To ſtretch. Rax'd, Reached.
Ream, Cream. Whence, Reaming; as,
Reaming Liquor.
Redd, To rid, unravel. To ſeparate
Folks that are fighting, where one
oft gets what we call the Redding
Strake. It alſo ſignifies clearing of any,
Paſſage.
Rede, Council, Advice. As, I wad na
rede ye to do that.
Reſt, Bereft, robbed, forc'd or carried
away.
Reif, Rapine, Robbery.
Reik, or Rink, A Courſe or Race.
Rice, or Riſe, Bulruſhes,Bramble Branches,
orTwigs of Trees, ſuch as are uſed
for Partition Walls plaiſter'd with
Clay.
Rift, To belch.
Rigging, The Back, or Rig-back, the Top
or Ridge of a Houſe.
Rock, A Diſtaff.
Rooſe, or Ruſe, To commend, extoll.
Rowan, Rolling.
Roundel, A witty, and often Satyrick
Kind of Rhime , commonly of 8
Lines, ſome of which are repeted as
the Fancy requires.
Rowt, To roar, eſpecially the Lowing
of Bulls and Cows.
Rowth, Plenty.
Ruck, A Rick or Stack of Hay, or Corns.
Rude, The red Taint of the Complexion.

Ruefu, Doleful.
Rug, To pull, take away by Force.
Rumple, The Rump.
Rungs, Small Boughs of Trees lop'd off,
which ſerve for Staves to Country
People.
Runkle, A Wrinkle. Runckle, To rufle.
Rype, To ſearch.
SA
SAebiens, Seeing it is, ſince.
Saikleſs, Guiltleſs, free.
Sall, Shall. Like Soud for Should.
Sand blind, Pur-blind, Short-ſighted.
Sar, Savour or Smell.
Sark, A Shirt.
Saugh, A Willow or Sallow Tree.
Saw, An old Saying, or proverbial Expreſſion.

Scar, The bare Places on the Sides of
Hills waſhen down with Rains.
Scart, To ſcratch.
Scawp, A bare, dry Piece of ſtony
Ground.
Scon, Bread the Country People bake
over the Fire, thinner and broader
than a Bannock
Scowp, To leap or move haſtily from
one Place to another.
Scrimp, Narrow, ſtraitned, little.
Scroggs, Shrubs, Thorns, Briers. Scroggy,
Thorny.
Scuds, Ale. A late Name given it by the
Benders, perhaps from its eaſy and
clever Motion.
Sell, Self.
Seuch, Furrow, Ditch.
Sey, To try.
Seybow, A young Onion.
Shan, Pitiful, ſilly, poor.
Shaw, A Wood or Forreſt.
Shill, Shril, having a ſharp Sound.
Shire, Clear, thin. We call thin Cloath,
or clear Liquor, Shire. Alſo a clever
Wag, A Shire Lick.
Shog, To wag, ſhake, or jog backwards
and forwards.
Shool, Shovel.
Shoon, Shoes.
Shore, To threaten.
Shotle, A Drawer.
Sib, A-kin.
Sic, Such.
Sicker, Firm, ſecure.
Sike, A Rill or Rivulet, commonly dry
in Summer.
Siller, Silver.
Sinſyne, Since that Time. Lang ſinſyne,
Long ago.
Skaill, To ſcatter.
Skair, Share.
Skaith, Hurt, Damage, Loſs.
Skeigh, Skittiſh.
Skelp, To run. Uſed when one runs
Bare-foot. Alſo a ſmall Splinter of
Wood. It. To flog the Hips.
Skiff, To move ſmoothly away.
Skink, A Kind of ſtrong Broth made of
Cows Hams or Knuckles. We ſay,
Spoonfou of Skitter will ſpoil a Potfu'
of Skink. Alſo, to fill Drink in a
Cup.
Skirl, To ſhreik, or cry with a ſhrill Voice.
Sklate, Slate. Skailie, is the fine blue Slate.
Skowrie, Ragged, Naſty, Idle. We call a
vagrant lazy Fellow, A Skowrie, or
Skurrievaig, i.e. A Scourer or Vagrant.

Skyt, Fly out haſtily.
Slade, or Slaid, Did ſlide, moved, or
made a Thing move eaſily.
Slap, or Slak, A Gap, or narrow Paſs
between two Hills. Slap, A Breach
in a Wall.
Slid, Smooth, cunning, ſlippery; as,
He's a ſlid Lown. Slidry, Slippery.
Slippery, Sleepy.
Slonk, A Mire, Ditch or Slough.
Slote, A Bar or Bolt for a Door.
Slough, Husk or Coat.
Smaik, A ſilly little pitiful Fellow; the
ſame with Smatchet.
Smittle, Infectious or Catching.
Smoor, To ſmother.
Snack, Nimble, ready, cliver.
Sned, To cut.
Sneg, To cut; as, Sneg'd off the Web
End.
Snell, Sharp, ſmarting, bitter, firm.
Snib, Snub, check or reprove, correct.
Snifter, To ſnuff or breath throw the
Noſe a little ſtopt.
Snod, Metaphorically uſed for Neat
Handſome, Tight.
Snood, The Band for tying up a Woman's
Hair.
Snool, To diſpirit by chiding, hard Labour,
and the like; alſo a pitiful
grovling Slave.
Snoove, To whirl round.
Snotter, Snot.
Snurl, To ruffle or wrinkle.
Sod, A thick Turf.
Sonſy, Happy, fortunate, lucky, ſometimes
uſed for large and luſty.
Sore, Sorrell, rediſh coloured.
Soſs, The Noiſe that a Thing makes
when it falls to the Ground. To fall
down heavily, is to fall with a Soſs.
Souch, The Sound of Wind amongſt
Trees, or of one Sleeping.
Sowens, Flumry, or Oat-meal ſowr'd
amongſt Water for ſome time, then
boil'd to a Conſiſtency, and eaten
with Milk or Butter.
Sowf, To conn over a Tune on an Inſtrument.

Spae, To fortel or divine. Spaemen, Prophets,
Augurs.
Spain, To wean from the Breaſt.
Spait, A Torrent, Flood,or Inundation.
Spang, A Leap or Jump. To leap or
jump.
Spaul, Shoulder, Arm.
Speel, To climb.
Speer, To ask, inquire.
Spelder, To ſplit, ſtretch, ſpread out,
draw aſunder. Whence Speldin, A
little Fiſh open'd and dry'd.
Spence, The Place of the Houſe where
Proviſions are kept.
Spill, To Spoil, abuſe.
Spoolie, Spoil, Booty, Plunder.
Spraings, Stripes of different Colours, as
in Cloath.
Spring,A Tune on a Muſical Inſtrument.
Spruſh, Spruce.
Spruttl'd, Speckled, ſpotted.
Spunk, Tinder.
Stang, Did ſting; alſo a Sting or Pole.
Stank, A Pool or Pond of ſtanding Water.

Stark, Strong, robuſt.
Starns, The Stars. Starn, A ſmall Moity.
We ſay, Ne'er a Starn.
Stay, Steep; as, Set a stout Heart to a
ſtay Brae.
Steek, To ſhut, cloſe.
Stend, or Sten, To move with a haſty
long Pace.
Stent, To ſtretch or extend.
Stirk, A Steer or Bullock.
Stoit, or Stot, To rebound or reflect.
One is ſaid to ſtoit, when he hits his
Foot againſt a Stone, or moves like
one drunk.
Stou, To cut or crop, A Stou, A large
Cut or Piece.
Stound, A ſmarting Pain or Stitch; as, A
Stound of Love.
Stour, Duſt agitated by Winds, Men
or Horſe Feet. To Stour, To run
quickly.
Stowth, Stealth.
Strath, A Plain on a River Side.
Streek, To ſtretch.
Striddle, To ſtride, applied commonly
to one that's little.
Strinkle, To ſprinkle or ſtraw.
Stroot, or Strute Stuff'd full, drunk.
Strunt, A Pett. A Fit of ill Humour. To
take the Strunt. To be petted or
out of Humour.
Study, An Anvil or Smith's Stithy.
Sturdy, Giddy-headed.
Sture, or Stoor, Stiff, ſtrong, rough, hoarſe.
Sturt, Trouble, Diſturbance, Vexation.
Stym, A Blink, or a little Sight of a
Thing.
Suddle, To ſully or defile.
Sumph, Blockhead.
Sunkots, Something.
Swak, To throw, caſt with Force.
Swankies, Clever young Fellows.
Swarf, To ſwoon away.
Swaſh, Squat, fuddled.
Swatch, A Pattern.
Swats, Small Ale.
Swecht, Burden, Weight, Force.
Sweer, lazy, ſlow.
Sweeties, Confections.
Swelt,To be ſuffocated, choaked to Death
Swith, Begone quickly.
Swither, To be doubtful whether to do
this or that, go this Way or the other.
Syne, Afterwards, then.
TA
TAckel, An Arrow.
Tane, Taken.
Tap, A Head, or ſuch a Quantity of
Lint as the Spinſters put on the Diſtaff,
is a Lint-Tap.
Tape, To imploy or uſe any Thing ſparingly,
that it may laſt long.
Tappit-hen, The Scots Quart, or Engliſh
half Gallon Stoup.
Tartan, Croſs ſtriped Stuffl, of various
Colours, checker'd. The Highland
Plaids.
Tate, A ſmall Lock of Hair, or any little
Quantity of Wool, Cotton, or the
like.
Taz, A Whip or Scourge.
Ted, To ſcatter, ſpread; as, Tedding
Hay.
Tee, A little Earth, on which Gamſters
at the Gowf ſet their Balls before
they ſtrike them off.
Teen or Tynd, Anger, Rage, Sorrow.
Teet, To peep out.
Tenſome, The Number of Ten.
Tent, Attention. To obſerve. Tenty,
headful, cautious.
Thack, Thatch. Tracker, Thatcher.
Thae, Thoſe.
Tharmes, Small Tripes.
Theek, To thatch.
Thig, To beg.
Thir, Theſe.
Thole, To endure, ſuffer:
Thowleſs, Unactive, ſilly, lazy, heavy.
Thrawart, Froward, croſs, crabbed.
Thrawin, Stern and Croſs-grain'd.
Threep, To aver, allege, urge and affirm
boldly.
Thrimal, To preſs or ſqueez through'
with Difficulty.
Thud, A Blaſt, Blow, Storm, or the
violent Sound of theſe. Cry'd heh at
ilka Thud, i.e. Gave a Groan at every
Blow.
Tid, Tide or Time, proper Time; as;
He took the Tid.
Tift, Good Order, Health.
Tine, To loſe. Tint, Loſt.
Tip, or Tippony, Ale ſold for Twopence
the Scots Pint.
Tirle or, Tirr, To uncover a Houſe, or
undreſs a Perſon, ſtrip one naked.
Sometimes a ſhort Action is named a
Tirle; as, They took A Tirle of dancing,
drinking, &c.
Tocher, Portion, Dowry.
Tod, A Fox.
Tooly, To fight. A Fight or Quarrel.
Toom, Empty, applied to a Barrel,
Purſe, Houſe, &c. It. To empty.
Toſh, Tight, neat, when ſpoke of a
little Perſon.
Toſie, Warm, pleaſant, half fuddled.
To-the-fore, In being, alive, unconſumed.
Touſe, or Touſle, To rumple, teeze.
Tout, The Sound of a Horn or Trumpet.

Tow, A Rope. A Tyburn Necklace, or
St. Johnſtoun Ribband.
Towmond, A Year or Twelvemonth.
Trewes, Hoſe and Breeches all of a Piece,
wore by the Highlandmen.
Trig, Neat, handſome.
Troke, Exchange.
True, To trow, truſt, believe; as, True
ye ſae; or, Love gars me true ye.
Truf, Steal.
Turs, Turfs.
Twin, To part with, or ſeparate from.
Tydie, Plump, fat, lucky.
Tynd, Vid. Teen.
Tyſt, To entice, ſtir up, allure.
UG
UGg, To deteſt, hate, nauſeate.
Ugſome, Hateful, nauſeous, horrible.

Umwhile, The late,or deceaſt ſometime
ago. Of old.
Undocht, or Wandought, A ſilly weak Person.

Uneith, Not eaſy.
Ungeard, Naked, not clad, unharneſs'd.
Unko, or Unco, Uncouth, ſtrange.
Unluſum, Unlovely.
VO
VOugy, Elevated. Proud. That boaſts
or brags of any Thing.
WA
WAd,or wed, Pledge,Wager, Pawn.
Waff, Wandring by itſelf.
Weak, Moiſt, wet.
Wale, To pick and chuſe. The Wale,
i.e. The beſt.
Walop, To move ſwiftly with much Agitation.

Wally, Choſen, beautiful, large. A bonny
Wally, i.e. A fine Thing.
Wame, Womb.
Wangrace, Wickedneſs, want of Grace.
War, Worſe.
Warlock, Wizard.
Wat, or Wit, To know.
Waugbt, A large Draught. Waughts.
drinks largely.
Wee, Little; as, A wanton wee Thing.
Wean, or wee ane, A Child.
Ween, Thought, imagined, ſuppoſed.
Weer, To ſtop or oppoſe.
Weir, War.
Weird, Fate or Deſtiny.
Weit, Rain.
Werſh, Inſipid, Wallowiſh, wanting Salt.
Whauk, Whip, beat, flog.
Whid, To fly quickly. A Whid is a haſty
Flight.
Whilk, Which.
Whilly, To cheat. Whilly-wha, A Cheat.
Whindging, Whining, ſpeaking with a
doleful Tone.
Whins, Furze.
Whiſht, Huſh. Hold your Peace.
Whiſk, To pull out haſtily, as a Sword
out of its Sheath.
Whomilt, Turn'd upſide down. Whelmed.
Wight, Stout, clever, active. Item, A
Man or Perſon.
Wimpling, A turning backward and forward,
winding like the Meanders of
a River.
Win, To reſide, dwell.
Winna, Will not.
Winnocks, Windows.
Winſom, Gaining, deſirable, agreeable,
complete, large; we ſay, My winſome
Love.
Wiſent, Parch'd, dry'd, wither'd.
Wiſtle, To exchange (Money.)
Witherſhins, Croſs Motion, or againſt
the Sun.
Woo, or W, Wool; as in the Whim of
making five Words out of four Letters,
thus, z, a, e, w, (i.e.) Is it all
one Wool?
Wood, Mad.
Woody, The Gallows.
Wordy, Worthy.
Wow! Wonderful! Strange! O wow!
Ah ſtrange!
Wreaths, Of Snaw, when Heaps of it are
blown together by the Wind.
Wyſing, Inclining. To wiſe, To Lead,
train; as, He's no ſic a Gouk as to wiſe
the Water by his ain Mill.
Wyſon, The Gullet.
Wyt, To blame. Blame.
YA
YAmph, To bark, or make a Noiſe
like little Dogs.
Yap, Hungry, having a longing Deſire
for any Thing ready.
Yealtou, Yea wilt thou.
Yed, To contend, wrangle. Contention,
Wrangling.
Yeld, Barren, as a Cow that gives no
Milk.
Yerk, To do any Thing with celerity.
Yesk, The Hickup.
Yett, Gate.
Yeſtreen, Yeſternight.
Yowden, Wearied.
Yowf, A ſwinging Blow.
Yuke, The Itch.
Yule, Chriſtmaſs.
AN
INDEX
OF THE
Poems contained in this Book, claſs'd into Serious,
Comick, Satyrick, Paſtoral,Lyrick, Epiſtolary,
and Epigrammatick.
SERIOUS.
Page
TARTANA, or the Plaid,	40
Edinburgh's Addreſs to the
Country,	86
On Mr. Bruce and his Fellows Diſtreſs,
91
Content,	144
Edinburgh's Salutation to the Marqueſs
of Carnarvon,	233
Proſpect of Plenty: A Poem on the
North-Sea,	246
On the Eclipſe of the Sun, April
1715	307
The Gentleman's Qualifications debated,	
310
On Friendſhip,	316
The Author's Addreſs to the Council
of Edinburgh,	323
— Bill to the Whin-buſh Club; 327
Clyde's Welcome to her Prince,	361
On the Marqueſs of Bowmont's cutting
off his Hair,	365
The Poet's Wiſh,	375.
COMICK.
THE Morning Interview,	1
Maggy Johnſtoun's Elegy,	16
John Cowper's Elegy,	22
Lucky Wood's Elegy,	28
Chriſt's Kirk on the Green, Canto
I.	93
Canto II.	106
Canto III.	119
Patty Birny's Elegy,	291
On Wit: The Tale of the manting
Lad,	313
The Author's comick Deſcription of
himſelf: An Epiſtle to J. A.	329
The Concluſion,	378
SATYRICK.
LUcky Spence's laſt Advice,	33
The Scriblers laſh'd,	132.
Wealth or the Woody: A Poem on
the South Sea,	237
Riſe and Fall of Stocks: An Epiſtle
to my Lord Ramſay, 275
A Prologue.	289
The Satyr's Project,	300
PASTORAL
RIchy and Sandy: On Mr. Addiſon	
172.
Patie and Roger,	218.
Keitha: On the Counteſs of Wigtoun,	
317.
LYRICK.
THE laſt Time I came o'er the
Moor,	60
The Laſs of Pattie's Mill,	63
Green Sleeves,	65
Yellow Hair'd Laddie,	67
Nannio,	68
Bonny Jean,	70
Auld lang ſyne,	72
Laſs of Livingſtoun,	74
Peggy I muſt love thee,	77
Ode on drinking,	79
Beſſy Bell and Mary Gray,	80
The young Laird and Edin. Katy,	82
My Mither's ay glowran o'er me:
Katy's Anſwer,	84
Mary Scot,	261
O'er Bogie,	262
O'er the Moor to Maggy,	264
I'll never leave thee,	266
Polwart on the Green,	268
John Hay's bonny Laſſie,	269
Genty Tibby and ſonſy Nellie,	271
Up in the Air,	273
Patie and Peggy,	287
Wine and Muſick,	305
Horace to Virgil,	341
Ode to Ph--- Sings to the Tune of,
Rub her o'er wi Strae,	346
Woes my Heart that we ſhould ſunder,	
371
The Mill, Mill, ----O,	373
EPISTOLARY.
JO. Burchet Eſq; to the Author,	179
Anſwer to the foregoing, 181
Seven familiar Epistles paſs'd between
Lieut. Hamilton and the
Author,	184
To the Muſick Club,	303
To the E. of Dalhouſie,	337
To Mr. F----,	343
To Mr. Aikman,	349
To Sir William Bennet,	352
To a Friend at Florence,	354
To R. H, B.	358
To ſome young Ladies,	367
To Mr. M.	369
EPIGRAMMATICAL.
SPoke to Mrs. N.	260
Cupid thrown in the S. Sea,	299
On a Gold Tea-pot,	326
On a Punch Bowl,	Ibid.
Spoke to three young Ladies, 351
The Roſe Tree,	357
Spoke to two Laſſes,	372
FINIS.