EXPECT na, Sir, in this narration,
A fleechin', fleth'rin', dedication,
To roose you up, an' ca' you guid,
An' sprung o' great an' noble bluid,
Because ye 're surnam'd like His Grace,
Perhaps related to the race;
Then when I'm tired-and sae are ye,
Wi' monie a fulsome, sinfu' lie,
Set up a face, how I stopt short,
For fear your modesty be hurt.
This may do-mauna do, Sir, wi' them wha Maun please the great folk for a wamefou';b For me! sae laighe I needna bow, For, Lord be thankit, I can plough; And when I downad yoke a naig, Then, Lord be thankit, I can beg; Sae I shall say, an' that 's nae flatt'rin', It's just sic Poet an' sic Patron.
The Poet, some guid angel help him,
Or else, I fear some ill ane skelpe him,
He may do weel for a' he's done yet,
But only he's no just begun yet.
The Patron (Sir, ye maun forgie me,
I winna lie, come what will o' me),
On ev'ry hand it will allow'd be,
He's just nae better than he should be.
I readily and freely grant,
He downa see a poor man want;
What's no his ain he winna tak it,
What ance he says he winna break it;
Aught he can lend he 'll no refus't,
Till aft his goodness is abus'd:
a Must. b Bellyful. c Low.
And rascals whyles that him do wrang,
E'en that he does not mind it lang;
As master, landlord, husband, father,
He does na fail his part in either.
But then, nae thanks to him for a' that;
Nae godly symptom ye can ca' that;
It's naething but a milder feature,
Of our poor, sinfu', corrupt nature:
Ye'll get the best o' moral works,
'Mang black Gentoos and pagan Turks,
Or hunters wild of Ponotaxi,
Wha never heard of orthodoxy.
That he's the poor man's friend in need,
The gentleman in word and deed,
It's no thro' terror of damnation :
It's just a carnal inclination.
Morality! thou deadly bane,
Thy tens o' thousands thou hast slain !
Vain is his hope, whose stay and trust is
In moral mercy, truth, and justice!
No-stretch a point to catch a plack;
Abuse a brother to his back;
Steal thro' a winnock frae a whore,
But point the rake that takes the door;
Be to the poor like onie whunstane,g
And haud their noses to the grunstane;
Ply every art o' legal thieving;
No matter-stick to sound believing.
Learn three-mile pray'rs, and half-mile graces,
Wi' weel-spread looves, an' lang wry faces,
Grunt up a solemn, lengthen'd groan,
And damn a' parties but your own;
I'll warrant then, ye 're nae deceiver,
A steady, sturdy, staunch believer.
O ye wha leave the springs of Calvin,
For gumliek dubs of your ain delvin'!
h Grindstone. A small pond.
Ye sons of heresy and error,
Ye'll some day squeelm in quakin' terror!
When Vengeance draws the sword in wrath,
And in the fire throws the sheath;
When Ruin with his sweeping besom,
Just frets till Heav'n commission gies him:
While o'er the harp pale Mis'ry moans,
And strikes the ever-deep'ning tones,
Still louder shrieks, and heavier groans !
Your pardon, Sir, for this digression,
I maist" forgat my dedication!
But when divinity comes 'cross me,
My readers still are sure to lose me.
So, Sir, ye see 'twas nae dafto vapour,
But I maturely thought it proper,
When a' my works I did review,
To dedicate them, Sir, to You;
Because (ye needna tak it ill)
I thought them something like yoursel.
Then patronise them wi' your favour,
And your petitioner shall ever-
I had amaist said, ever pray,
But that's a word I needna say:
For prayin' I hae little skill o't;
I'm baith dead-sweerP an' wretched ill o't;
But I'se repeat each poor man's pray'r,
That kens or hears about you, Sir :-
May ne'er misfortune's growling bark,
Howl thro' the dwelling o' the Clerk !
May ne'er his gen'rous, honest heart,
For that same gen'rous spirit smart :
May Kennedy's far-honour'd fame,
Lang beets his hymeneal flame,
Till Hamiltons, at least a dizen,
Are frae their nuptial labours risen :
Five bonnie lasses round their table
And seven braw fellows, stout an' able
To serve their king and country weel,
By word, or pen, or pointed steel!
May health and peace, with mutual rays,
Shine on the evening o' his days;
Till his wee curlie John's ier-oe,"
When ebbing life nae mair shall flow,
The last, sad mournful rites bestow !"
I will not wind a lang conclusion,
Wi' complimentary effusion:
But whilst your wishes and endeavours
Are blest wi' Fortune's smiles and favours,
am, dear Sir, with zeal most fervent,
Your much indebted, humble servant.
But if (which Powers above prevent!) That iron-hearted carl, Want,
Attended in his grim advances,
By sad mistakes and black mischances,
While hopes, and joys, and pleasures fly him,
Make you as poor a dog as I am,
Your humble servant then no more;
For who would humbly serve the poor?
But, by a poor man's hopes in Heav'n!
While recollection's pow'r is giv'n,
If, in the vale of humble life,
The victim sad of Fortune's strife,
I, thro' the tender gushing tear,
Should recognise my master dear,
If, friendless, low, we meet together,
Then, Sir, your hand-my friend and brother!
TO THE SAME.
(Recommending a boy.)
I HOLD it, Sir, my bounden duty
To warn you how that Master Tootie,
Alias, Laird M'Gaun,
Was here to hire yon lad away
Bout whom ye spak the tither day,
An' wad hae don't aff han':
But lest he learn the callan" tricks,
As faith I muckle doubt him,
Like scrapin' out auld crummie's nicks,
An' tellin' lies about them;
As lieve then I 'd have then,
Your clerkship he should sair,
If sae be, ye may be
Not fitted otherwhere.
Altho' I say 't, he 's gleg enough,
An' bout a house that 's rude an' rough,
The boy might learn to swear;
But then wi' you, he 'll be sae taught,
An' get sic fair example straught,
I hae na ony fear.
Ye 'll catechise him every quirk,
An' shore him weel wi' hell;
An' gar him follow to the kirk-
-Ay when ye gang yoursel.
If ye then, maun be then
Frae hame this comin' Friday,
Then please, Sir, to lea'e, Sir,
The orders wi' your lady..
My word of honour I hae gien,
In Paisley John's, that night at e'en,
To meet the Warld's worm;
To try to get the twa to gree,b
An' name the airless an' the fee,
In legal mode an' form:
s Master Tootie then lived in Mauchline; a dealer in cows. It was his common practice to cut the nicks or markings from the horns of cattle, to disguise their age.-He was an artful, trickcontriving character; hence he is called a snick-drawer. In the Poet's Address to the Deil,' he styles that august personage an suld, snick-drawing dog!-Reliques, p. 397,
w Old cow. r Rather.
z Sharp.
a Threaten.
e Earnest money.
|
