O! for a throat like huge Mons-meg, Beneath Drumlanrig's banner Heroes and heroines commix, All in the field of politics, To win immortal honour. M'Murdo and his lovely spouse, Led on the loves and graces : She won each gaping burgess' heart, Among their wives and lasses. Craigdarroch led a light-arm'd corps, Like Hecla streaming thunder: Glenriddel, skill'd in rusty coins, And bared the treason under. In either wing two champions fought, The wildest savage Tory: And Welsh, who ne'er yet flinch'd his ground, With Cyclopean fury. Miller brought up th' artillery ranks, Resistless desolation ! While Maxwelton, that baron bold, 'Mid Lawson's port entrench'd his hold, And threaten'd worse damnation. To these what Tory hosts oppos'd, Surpasses my descriving: Squadrons extended long and large, Like raging devils driving. What verse can sing, what prose narrate, Amid this mighty tulzie ! Grim Horror girn'd—pale Terror roar'd, And Hell mix'd in the brulzie. As highland craigs by thunder cleft, Hurl down with crashing rattle As flames among a hundred woods; Such is the rage of battle! The stubborn Tories dare to die; Before th' approaching fellers: The Whigs come on like Ocean's roar, Against the Buchan Bullers. Lo, from the shades of Death's deep night, And think on former daring: The muffled murtherer of Charles All deadly gules it's bearing. Nor wanting ghosts of Tory fame, Bold Scrimgeour follows gallant Graham, (Forgive, forgive, much wrong'd Montrose ! Thou liv'st on high for ever!) Still o'er the field the combat burns, But Fate the word has spoken For woman's wit and strength o' man, The Tory ranks are broken. O that my een were flowing burns! Her darling cubs' undoing! That I might greet, that I might cry, While Tories fall, while Tories fly, And furious Whigs pursuing What Whig but melts for good Sir James? Friend, patron, benefactor! And Hopeton falls, the generous brave! And Stewart, bold as Hector! Thou, Pitt, shalt rue this overthrow; And Melville melt in wailing! How Fox and Sheridan rejoice! And Burke shall sing, 'O Prince, arise, Thy power is all-prevailing!' For your poor friend, the Bard, afar A cool spectator purely! So, when the storm the forest rends, And sober chirps securely. STANZAS ON THE DUKE OF How shall I sing Drumlanrig's Grace, Once great in martial story? His forbears' virtues all contrasted The very name of Douglas blasted- Hate, envy, oft the Douglas bore; But he has superadded more, And sunk them in contempt: Follies and crimes have stained the name, VERSES ON THE DESTRUCTION OF THE WOODS NEAR As on the banks o' wandering Nith, I sat me down upon a craig, And drank my fill o' fancy's dream, When, from the eddying deep below, Uprose the genius of the stream. Dark, like the frowning rock, his brow, Amang his eaves, the sigh he gave— 'There was a time, it's nae lang syne, 'When glinting, through the trees, appeared And scarce a stinted birk is left To shiver in the blast its lane.' 'Alas!' said I, 'what ruefu' chance Has twined ye o' your stately trees? |