The dinner being over, the claret they ply,

And every new cork is a new spring of joy;

In the bands of old friendship and kindred so set,

And the bands grew the tighter the more they were wet.

Gay Pleasure ran riot as bumpers ran o'er;
Bright Phoebus ne'er witnessed so joyous a core,
And vowed that to leave them he was quite forlorn,
Till Cynthia hinted he'd see them next morn.

Six bottles a piece had well wore out the night,
When gallant Sir Robert, to finish the fight,
Turn'd o'er in one bumper a bottle of red,
And swore 'twas the way that their ancestors did.

Then worthy Glenriddel, so cautious and sage,
No longer the warfare, ungodly, would wage;
A high ruling elder to wallow in wine!
He left the foul business to folks less divine.

The gallant Sir Robert fought hard to the end;
But who can with fate and quart-bumpers contend?
Though fate said-a hero shall perish in light;
So up rose bright Phoebus-and down fell the knight.
Next up rose our bard, like a prophet in drink :---
"Craigdarroch, thou'lt soar when creation shall sink;
But if thou would flourish immortal in rhyme,
Come-one bottle more-and have at the sublime!

Thy line, that have struggled for freedom with Bruce, Shall heroes and patriots ever produce:

So thine be the laurel, and mine be the bay,
The field thou hast won, by yon bright god of day !"

TO MARY IN HEAVEN.

THOU ling'ring star, with less ning ray
That lov'st to greet the early morn,

Again thou usher'st in the day

My Mary from my soul was torn.

O Mary! dear departed shade!

Where is thy place of blissful rest?

See'st thou thy lover lowly laid?

Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast

That sacred hour can I forget,

Can I forget the hallowed grove,

Where by the winding Ayr we met,
To live one day of parting love!

Eternity will not efface

Those records dear of transports past;

Thy image at our last embrace,

Ah! little thought we 'twas our last!

h

Ayr, gurgling, kissed his pebbled shore,
O'erhung with wild woods, thick'ning green;
The fragrant birch, and hawthorn hoar,
Twined am'rous round the raptured scene;
The flowers sprang wanton to be prest,
The birds sang love on every spray---
Till too, too soon, the glowing west

Proclaim'd the speed of winged day.

Still o'er these scenes my mem'ry wakes,
And fondly broods with miser care!
Time but th' impression stronger makes,
As streams their channels deeper wear.
My Mary! dear departed shade !

Where is thy place of blissful rest?

See'st thou thy lover lowly laid?

Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast?

TO DR BLACKLOCK.

ELLISLAND, Oct. 21, 1789.

Wow, but your letter made me vauntie !
And are ye hale, and weel, and cantie?
I kenned it still your wee bit jauntie,
Wad bring ye to:

COME you ayе BACK as weel's want ye,
And then ye'll do.

But what d'ye think, my trusty fier,
I'm turned a gauger-Peace be here!
Parnassian qucans, I fear, I fear,

Ye'll now disdain me!
And then my fifty pounds a year
Will little gain me.

Ye glaiket, gleesome, dainty damies,
Wha, by Castalia's wimplin' streamies,
Loup, sing, and lave your pretty limbies,
Ye ken, ye ken,

That strang necessity supreme is

’Mang sons ’o men.

have, two, boys must, food, clothes

not

cut

early

have

many others

Twist willow wands.

Than mony ithers;

But why should ae man better fare,
And a' men brithers?

Come, firm Resolve, take thou the van,
Thou stalk o' carl-hemp in man!
And let us mind, faint heart ne'er wan
A lady fair:

Wha does the utmost that he can,

Will whyles do mair.

But to conclude my silly rhyme

(I'm scant o' verse, and scant o' time),

To make a happy fireside clime

To weans and wife,

That's the true pathos and sublime
Of human life.

My compliments to sister Beckie;
And eke the same to honest Lucky,
wat she is a dainty chuckie,

As e'er tread clay!

And gratefully, my guid auld cockie,

I'm yours for aye.

ROBERT BURNS.

one brothers

seed-hemp

won

who

sometimes, more

children

also

know, chick

ON CAPTAIN GROSE'S PEREGINATIONS THROUGH

SCOTLAND,

COLLECTING THE ANTIQUITIES OF THAT KINGDOM.

Here, land o' Cakes, and brither Scots,

Frae Maidenkirk* to Johnny Groat's;
If there's a hole in a' your coats,
I rede you tent it:

A chiel's amang you taking notes,
And, faith, he'll prent it.

if in your bounds ye chance to light
Upon a fine, fat, fodgel wight
O' stature short. but genius bright,
That's he, mark weel-

And wow! he has an unco slight
O' cauk and keel,

By some auld houlet-haunted biggin,
Or kirk deserted by its riggin,

Its ten to ane you'll find him snug in

Some eldritch part,

Wi' WARLOCKS, SP'RITES, AND IMPS colleaguin'

At some black art.

brother

warn, observe fellow, among print

plump fellow

well

great cleverness chalk, red crayon

owl, building roof

one fearful

Ilk ghaist that haunts auld ha' or chaumer, each ghost,chamber Ye gipsy-gang that deal in glamour, necromancy

An inversion of the name of Kirkmalden, in Wigtonshire, the most southerly parish in Scotland. John O'Groats is the most northerly dwelling in Scotland.

And you deep-read in a' black grammar,
Warlocks and witches;

Ye'll quake at his conjuring hammer,
Ye midnight WRETCHES.

It's tauld he was a sodger bred,
And ane wad rather fa'n than fled;
But now he's quat the spurtle blade,
And dog-skin wallet,

And ta'en the-Antiquarian trade,
I think they call it.

He has a fouth o' auld nick-nackets,
Rusty airn caps and jinglin' jackets,
Wad haud the Lothians three in tackets
A towmont guid;

And parritch-pats, and auld saut-backets
Before the Flood.

Forbye, he'll shape you aff, fu' gleg,
The cut of Adam's philabeg;

The knife that nicket Abel's craig,
He'll prove you fully,

It was a faulding jocteleg,

Or lang-kail gully.

But wad ye see him in his glee,

For meikle glee and fun has he,

Then set him down, and twa or three

Guid fellows wi' him;

And port, O port! shine thou a wee,

And then ye'll see him!

Now, by the powers o' verse and prose!

Thou art a dainty chiel, O Grose !

Whac'er o' thee shall ill suppose,

They sair misca' thee,

I'd take the rascal by the nose,

Wad say, shame fa' thee.

wizards

told, soldier

one, would, fallen quitted, thin sword

abundance, old iron

keep, shoe-nails twelvemonth full porridge-pot, [salt-box

besides, off quickly

dress

neck

clasp-knife

large knife

would much

good

little

fellow

much asperse

would

Five wighter carlines werna foun'

handsomer, were not

country

The south contra within.

To send a lad to Lon'on town,
They met upon a day,

And mony a knight and mony a laird
Their errand fain would gae.

O mony a knight and mony a laird
This errand fain would gae;

But nae ane could their fancy please,
O ne'er a ane but twae.

The first he was a belted knight,
Bred o' a Border clan,
And he wad gae to Lon'on town,
Might nae man him withstan'.

And he wad do their errands weel,
And meikle he wad say,

And ilka ane at Lon'on court,
Would bid to him guid-day.

Then next came in a sodger youth,
And spak wi' modest grace,

many go

no one two

(Sir James Johnston)

well much, would each one good-day

(Captain Miller)

And he wad gae to Lon'on town,

If sae their pleasure was.

He wadna hecht them courtly gifts,
Nor meikle speech pretend,

wouldn't promise

But he wad hecht an honest heart

would

Wad ne'er desert a friend.

whom

these

Now, wham to choose, and wham refuse,

At strife thir carlines fell;

For some had gentle folks to please,

And some wad please themsel.

Then out spak mim-mou'ed Meg o' Nith,
And she spak up wi' pride,

And she wad send the sodger youth,
Whatever might betide.

For the auld guidman o' Lon'on court
She didna care a pin ;

But she wad send the sodger youth
To greet his eldest son.

Then up sprang Bess o' Annandale,
And a deadly aith she's ta'en,

That she wad vote the Border knight,
Though she should vote her lane.

prim-mouthed

(The King

(Prince of Wales)

oath

alone