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Nor yet the tenty curious lad,
Who o'er the ingle hings his head,
And begs of nei'bours books to read;

For hence arise
Thy country's sons, who far are spread,

Baith bauld and wise.


The bonny lasses, as they spin,

Perhaps with Allan's sangs begin,

How Tay and Tweed smooth flowing rin

Thro'flowery hows; Where shepherd lads their sweethearts win

With earnest vows.

Or may be, Burns, thy thrilling page
May a' their virtuous thoughts engage,
While playful youth and placid age

In concert join,
To bliss the bard, who, gay or sage,

Improves the mind.


Long may their harmless, simple ways,
Nature's own pure emotions raise;
May still the dear romantic blaze

Of purest love,
Their bosoms warm to latest days,

And aye'improve.

May May still each fond attachment glow,

O'er woods, o'er streams, o'er hills of snow

May rugged rocks still dearer grow,

And may their souls Even love the warlock glens which through

The tempest howls.

To eternize such themes as these,
And all their happy manners seize,
Will every virtuous bosom please,

And high in fame,
To future times will justly raise

Thy patriot name.

While all the venal tribes decay,
That bask in flatt'ry's flaunting ray,
The noisome vermin of a day,

Thy works shall gain
O'er every mind a boundless sway,

And lasting reign.

When winter binds the harden'd plains,
Around each hearth, the hoary swains
Shall teach the rising youth thy strains,

And anxious say
Our blessing with our sons remains,

And Burns's Lay!


J. M'Critry, Printer, Hcugkton-itiut, LivcrJtU.

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