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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, t
He was an unco shaver

For monie a day.

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: . .

Young, royal Tarry Breeks, I learn,

Ye've lately come athwart her;'
A glorious galleyf stem an' stern, -

Weel rigg'd for Venus barter;
But first hang out, that she'll discern

Your hymeneal charter,

* King Henry V.
of Sir John Falstaff, vide Shakespeare.

* Alluding to the newspaper account of a certain royal sait er's amour.

Then heave aboard your grapple aien, An', large upo' her quarter,

Come full that day.

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

Qa opie day.

God bless you a'! consider now,

Ye're unco muckle dautet ;
But, ere the course o’ life be thro',

be bitter sautet ;
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


The sun had clos'd the winter day;
The curlers quat their toating 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 Aingin 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, lanety, 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 riggina

All in this mottie, tisty clime, I backward mus'd on Wasted time,

* Duan, a term of Osbian's for the different divisions of digressive poem. See bis Cath-Loday vol. iic of Macpherson's Fanslation,

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, bae led a market, Or strutted in a bank an' clarkit

My cash-account: While here, half-mad, half-fed, half-sarkit,

Is a' the amount.

I started, mutt'ring, blockhead! coof I
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


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.

A hair-brain'd, sentimental trace,'
Was strongly marked in her face ;
A wildly-witty rustic grace

Shone full

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

Beam'd keen with honour.


Down fow'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 ;

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