LINES

ON BEING ASKED WHY GOD HAD MADE MISS DAVIES SO LITTLE AND MRS. *** SO LARGE.

Written on a Pane of Glass in the Inn at Moffat.

Ask why God made the gem so small,
An' why so huge the granite?

Because God meant mankind should set
The higher value on it.

EPIGRAM.

WRITTEN AT INVERARY.

WHOE'ER he be that sojourns here,
I pity much his case,
Unless he come to wait upon

The Lord their God, his Grace.

There's naething here but Highland pride,
And Highland scab and hunger;

If Providence has sent me here,

'Twas surely in an anger.

A TOAST.

GIVEN AT A MEETING OF THE DUMFRIESSHIRE VOLUNTEERS, HELD TO COMMEMORATE THE ANNIVERSARY OF RODNEY'S VICTORY, APRIL

12TH, 1782.

INSTEAD of a Song, boys, I'll give you a Toast,— Here's the memory of those on the twelfth that we

lost:

That we lost, did I say? nay, by heav'n, that we

found,

For their fame it shall last while the world goes round.

The next in succession, I'll give you the King,
Whoe'er would betray him, on high may he swing!
And here's the grand fabric, our free Constitution,
As built on the base of the great Revolution;
And longer with Politics, not to be cramm'd,
Be Anarchy curs'd, and be Tyranny damn'd ;
And who would to Liberty e'er prove disloyal,
May his son be a hangman, and he his first trial!

LINES

SAID TO HAVE BEEN WRITTEN BY BURNS, WHILE
ON HIS DEATH-BED, TO JOHN RANKINE, AYR-
SHIRE, AND FORWARDED TO HIM IMMEDIATELY
AFTER THE POET'S DECEASE.

HE who of Rankine sang, lies stiff and dead;
And a green grassy hillock hides his head;
Alas! alas! a devilish change indeed!

VERSES ADDRESSED TO 7. RANKINE,

ON HIS WRITING TO THE POET, THAT A GIRL IN THAT PART OF THE COUNTRY WAS WITH CHILD TO HIM.

I AM a keeper of the law

In some sma' points, altho' not a';
Some people tell me gin I fa',

Ae way or ither,

The breaking of ae point, tho' sma’,
Breaks a' thegither.

I hae been in for't ance or twice,
And winna say owre far for thrice,
Yet never met with that surprise

That broke my rest,

But now a rumour's like to rise,

A whaup's i' the nest.

ON SEEING THE BEAUTIFUL SEAT OF LORD GALLOWAY.

WHAT dost thou in that mansion fair?

Flit, Galloway, and find

Some narrow, dirty, dungeon cave,

The picture of thy mind!

ON THE SAME.

No Stewart art thou, Galloway,
The Stewarts all were brave;
Besides, the Stewarts were but fools,
Not one of them a knave.

ON THE SAME.

BRIGHT ran thy line, O Galloway,
Thro' many a far-fam'd sire!
So ran the far-famed Roman way,
So ended in a mire!

TO THE SAME,

ON THE AUTHOR BEING THREATENED WITH HIS

RESENTMENT.

SPARE me thy vengeance, Galloway,

In quiet let me live:

I ask no kindness at thy hand,

For thou hast none to give.

VERSES TO J. RANKINE.

AE day, as Death, that grusome carl,
Was driving to the tither warl'
A mixtie-maxtie motley squad,
And monie a guilt-bespotted lad;
Black gowns of each denomination,
And thieves of every rank and station,
From him that wears the star and garter,
To him that wintles in a halter;
Asham'd himsel to see the wretches,
He mutters, glowrin at the bitches,
'By God I'll not be seen behint them,
Nor 'mang the sp'ritual core present them,
Without at least, ae honest man,
To grace this damn'd infernal clan.'

By Adamhill a glance he threw,
'Lord God!' quoth he, 'I have it now,
There's just the man I want, i' faith,'
And quickly stoppit Rankine's breath.

EXTEMPORANEOUS EFFUSION,

ON BEING APPOINTED TO THE EXCISE.
SEARCHING auld wives' barrels,

Och, hon! the day!

That clarty barm should stain my laurels ;
But-what'll ye say?

These movin' things, ca'd wives and weans,
Wad move the very hearts o' stanes!

ON HEARING

THAT

THERE

WAS

FALSEHOOD IN THE REV. DR. B—'S

VERY LOOKS.

THAT there is falsehood in his looks

I must and will deny ;

They say their master is a knave

And sure they do not lie.

POVERTY.

IN politics if thou wouldst mix,

And mean thy fortunes be;

Bear this in mind,-be deaf and blind,
Let great folks hear and see.