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The friend thou valued'st, I the Patron lov'd;
His worth, his honour, all the world approv'd.
We'll mourn till we too go as he has gone,

And tread the shadowy path to that dark world unknown.

TO MISS CRUIKSHANK,

A VERY YOUNG LADY, WRITTEN ON THE BLANK LEAF OF A BOOK, PRESENTED TO HER BY THE AUTHOR.

BEAUTEOUS rose-bud, young and gay,
Blooming in thy early May,

Never may'st thou, lovely flow'r,
Chilly shrink in sleety show'r!

Never Boreas' hoary path,

Never Eurus' pois'nous breath,

Never baleful stellar lights,

Taint thee with untimely blights!

Never, never reptile thief

Riot on thy virgin leaf!

Nor even Sol too fiercely view

Thy bosom blushing still with dew!

May'st thou long, sweet crimson gem,

Richly deck thy native stem;

Till some evening, sober, calm,
Dropping dews, and breathing balm,
While all around the woodland rings,
And every bird thy requiem sings;
Thou, amid the dirgeful sound,
Shed thy dying honours round,

And resign to parent earth

The loveliest form she e'er gave birth.

ΤΟ

20

VERSES TO A YOUNG LADY,

MISS GRAHAM OF FINTRY, WITH A PRESENT OF SONGS.

HERE, where the Scottish Muse immortal lives,
In sacred strains and tuneful numbers join'd,
Accept the gift; tho' humble he who gives,
Rich is the tribute of the grateful mind.

So may no ruffian-feeling in thy breast
Discordant jar thy bosom-chords among!
But Peace attune thy gentle soul to rest,
Or Love, ecstatic, wake his seraph song!

Or Pity's notes, in luxury of tears,

As modest Want the tale of woe reveals;
While conscious Virtue all the strain endears,
And heaven-born Piety her sanction seals!

ΙΟ

WRITTEN ON THE BLANK LEAF OF THE LAST EDITION OF HIS POEMS,

PRESENTED TO THE LADY WHOM HE HAD OFTEN CELEBRATED

UNDER THE NAME OF CHLORIS.

"TIs Friendship's pledge, my young, fair friend,
Nor thou the gift refuse,

Nor with unwilling ear attend

The moralizing Muse.

Since thou, in all thy youth and charms,

Must bid the world adieu

(A world 'gainst peace in constant arms)
To join the friendly few;

Since, thy gay morn of life o'ercast,
Chill came the tempest's lower
(And ne'er misfortune's eastern blast
Did nip a fairer flower);

Since life's gay scenes must charm no more,-
Still much is left behind;

Still nobler wealth hast thou in store-
The comforts of the mind!

Thine is the self-approving glow,
Of conscious honour's part;
And, dearest gift of heaven below,
Thine friendship's truest heart.

The joys refin'd of sense and taste,
With every muse to rove:
And doubly were the poet blest,
These joys could he improve.

TO A YOUNG LADY, MISS JESSY LEWARS, DUMFRIES,

WITH BOOKS WHICH THE BARD PRESENTED HER.

THINE be the volumes, Jessy fair,
And with them take the Poet's prayer-
That fate may in her fairest page,
With every kindliest, best presage
Of future bliss, enrol thy name;
With native worth, and spotless fame,
And wakeful caution still aware
Of ill-but chief, man's felon snare.
All blameless joys on earth we find,
And all the treasures of the mind-
These be thy guardian and reward;
So prays thy faithful friend, the Bard.

10

20

ΙΟ

To a Gentleman who had sent Him a Newspaper. 269

THE FOLLOWING POEM WAS WRITTEN

TO A GENTLEMAN WHO HAD SENT HIM A NEWSPAPER,

AND OFFERED TO CONTINUE IT FREE OF EXPENSE.

KIND Sir, I've read your paper through,
And, faith, to me, 'twas really new!
How guess'd ye, Sir, what maist I wanted?
This mony a day I've grain'd and gaunted,
To ken what French mischief was brewin';
Or what the drumlie Dutch were doin';
That vile doup-skelper, Emperor Joseph,
If Venus yet had got his nose off;
Or how the collieshangie works
Atween the Russians and the Turks;
Or if the Swede, before he halt,
Would play anither Charles the Twalt:
If Denmark, any body spak o't;

Or Poland, wha had now the tack o't;

How cut-throat Prussian blades were hingin';
How libbet Italy was singin';

If Spaniard, Portuguese or Swiss,
Were sayin' or takin' aught amiss:
Or how our merry lads at hame,

In Britain's court, kept up the game:
How royal George, the Lord leuk o'er him!
Was managing St. Stephen's quorum;
If sleekit Chatham Will was livin',
Or glaikit Charlie got his nieve in;
How daddie Burke the plea was cookin',
If Warren Hastings' neck was yeukin';
How cesses, stents, and fees were rax'd,
Or if bare arses yet were tax'd;
The news o' princes, dukes, and earls,
Pimps, sharpers, bawds, and opera-girls;
If that daft buckie, Geordie Wales,
Was threshin' still at hizzies' tails;
Or if he was grown oughtlins doucer,
And no a perfect kintra cooser.

ΙΟ

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30

A' this and mair I never heard of;
And, but for you, I might despair'd of.
So gratefu' back your news I send you,
And pray a' guid things may attend you!
Ellisland, Monday Morning, 1790.

Remonstrance to the Gentleman to whom the foregoing Poem was addressed.

Dear Peter, dear Peter,
We poor sons of metre

Are often negleckit, ye ken;

For instance, your sheet, man,

(Though glad I'm to see't, man,)

I get it no ae day in ten.

SENT TO A GENTLEMAN WHOM HE HAD OFFENDED.

THE friend whom wild from wisdom's way

The fumes of wine infuriate send

(Not moony madness more astray)

Who but deplores that hapless friend?

Mine was th' insensate frenzied part,

Ah! why should I such scenes out-live?

Scenes so abhorrent to my heart!
'Tis thine to pity and forgive.

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