So ye may doucely fill a throne,
For a' their clish-ma-claver:
There, him* at Agincourt wha shone
Few better were, or braver ;

And yet, wi' funny, queer Sir John,†
He was an unco shaver

For monie a day. ·

XII.

For you, right rev'rend O,

Nane sets the lawn-sleeve sweeter,
Altho' a ribbon at your lug

Wad been a dress completer:
As ye disown yon paughty dog
That bears the keys of Peter,
Then, swith! an' get a wife to hug,
Or, trouth! ye'll stain the mitre

Some luckless day.

XIII.

Young, royal Tarry Breeks, I learn,
Ye've lately come athwart her;'
A glorious galley‡ stem an' stern,
Weel rigg'd for Venus barter;

But first hang out, that she'll discern
Your hymeneal charter,

King Henry V.

Sir John Falstaff, vide Shakespeare.

Alluding to the newspaper account of a certain royal sait

er's amour.

Then heave aboard your grapple airn,

An', large upo' her quarter,

Come full that day.

XIV.

Ye, lastly, bonnie blossoms a',

Ye royal lasses dainty,

Heav'n mak you guid as weel as braw,

An' gie you lads a-plenty:
But sneer nae British boys awa',
For kings are unco scant ay;
An' German gentles are but sma”,
They're better just than want ay

On onie day.

XV.

God bless you a'! consider now,
Ye're unco muckle dautet ;
But, ere the course o' life be thro
may be bitter sautet;

It
An' I hae seen their coggie fou,
That yet hae tarrow'd at it;
But or the day was done, I trow,
The laggen they hae clautet

Fu' clean that day..

THE VISION.

DUAN FIRST".

THE sun had clos'd the winter day,
The curlers quat their roaring play,
An' hunger'd maukin ta'en her way

To kail-yards green,

While faithless snaws ilk step betray

Whare she has been

The thresher's weary flingin tree
The lee-lang day had tired me;
And whan the day had closed his e'e,

Far i' the west,

Ben i' the spence, right pensivelie,

I gaed to rest.

There, lanely, by the ingle-cheek,
I sat and ey'd the spewing reek,
That fill'd wi' hoast-provoking smeek,

The auld clay biggin

An' heard the restless rattons squeak

About the riggin.

All in this mottie, misty clime, I backward mus'd on wasted time,

* Duan, a term of Ossian's for the different divisions of digressive poem. See his Cath-Loda, vol. ii. of Macpherson's translation,

How I had spent my youthfu' prime,

An' done nae-thing.

But stringin blethers up in rhyme,
For fools to sing.

Had I to guid advice but harkit,..
I might, by this, hae led a market,
Or strutted in a bank an' clarkit

My cash-account:

While here, half-mad, half-fed, half-sarkis,
Is a' the amount.

I started, mutt'ring, blockhead! coof!
And heav'd on high my waukit loof,
To swear by a' yon starry roof,

Or some rash aith,

That I, henceforth, would be rhyme-proof

Till my last breath.

When click! the string the snick did draw; And jee! the door gaed to the wa';

An' by my ingle-lowe I saw,

Now bleezin bright,

A tight, outlandish Hizzie, braw,

Come full in sight.

Ye need na doubt, I held my whisht; The infant aith, half-formed, was crusht; I glowr'd as eerie's I'd been dusht

In some wild glen;

When sweet, like modest worth, she blusht
And stepped ben.

Green, slender, leaf-clad holly-boughs Were twisted, gracefu', round her brows: I took her for some Scottish Muse,

By that same token:

An' come to stop those reckless vows,
Wou'd soon be broken.

Ahair-brain'd, sentimental trace,'

Was strongly marked in her face;
A wildly-witty rustic grace

Her eye, ev'n turn'd on empty space,

Beam'd keen with honour.

Down flow'd her robe, a tartan sheen,
Till half a leg was scrimply seen;
And such a leg! my bonnie Jean

Could only peer it;

Sae straught, sae taper, tight, and clean,
Nane else came near it.

Her mantle large, of greenish hue, My gazing wonder chiefly drew:

Deep lights and shades, bold-mingling, threw A lustre grand;

And seem'd, to my astonish'd view,

A well known land.

Here, rivers in the sea were lost; There, mountains to the skies were tost: Here, tumbling billows mark'd the coast,

With surging foam;