ADDRESS TO A LADY. Oh wert thou in the cauld blast, I'd shelter thee, I'd shelter thee: Or were I in the wildest waste, Sae black and bare, sae black and bare, The desart were a paradise, If thou wert there, if thou wert there. Wi' thee to reign, wi' thee to reign; TO A YOUNG LADY, MISS JESSY L, DUMFRIES, With books which the bard presented her. Thine be the volumes, Jessy fair, SONNET, Written on the 25th January, 1793, the birth-day of the author, On hearing a thrush sing in a morning walk. Sing on, sweet thrush, upon the leafless bough, So in lone poverty's dominion drear, Sits meek content with light unanxious heart, Welcomes the rapid moments, bids them part, Nor asks if they bring ought to hope or fear. I thank thee, author of this opening day! Thou whose bright sun now gilds yon orient skies! Riches denied, thy boon was purer joys, What wealth could never give nor take away! Yet come, thou child of poverty and care, The mite high heaven bestowed, that mite with thee I'll share. EXTEMPORE. TO MR. S**E, On refusing to dine with him, after having been promised the first of company, and the first of cookery, 17th December, 1795. No more of your guests, be they titled or not, Vol. III. N Who is proof to thy personal converse and wit, Is proof to all other temptation. TO MR. S**E, With a present of a dozen of porter. O had the malt thy strength of mind, Jerusalem Tavern, Dumfries. THE DUMFRIES VOLUNTEERS. Tune, "Push about the Jorum." April, 1795. Does haughty Gaul invasion threat? Then let the loons beware, sir, The Nith shall run to Corsincon*, E'er we permit a foreign foe Fall de rall, &c. Olet us not like snarling tykes In wrangling be divided; * A high hill at the source of the Nith. + A well-known mountain at the mouth of the same river. "Till slap come in an unco loon, For never but by British hands The kettle o' the kirk and state, Our fathers' blude the kettle bought, Shall fuel be to boil it. Fall de rall, c. The wretch that wad a tyrant own, And the wretch his true-born brother, Who will not sing "God save the king," POEM, Addressed to Mr. Mitchell, collector of excise, Dumfries, 1796. Friend of the poet tried and leal, Wha, wanting thee, might beg or steal; Alake, alake, the meikle deil Wi' a' his witches Are at it, skelpin! jig and reel, In my poor pouches. I modestly fu' fain wad hint it, That one pound one, I sairly want it; It would be kind; And while my heart wi' life-blood dunted So may the auld year gang out moaning To thee and thine; Domestic peace and comforts crowning The hail design. POSTSCRIPT. Ye've heard this while how I've been licket, And sair me sheuk; But by gude luck I lap a wicket, And turn'd a neuk. But by that health, I've got a share o't, Then farewell folly, hide and hair o't, Sent to a Gentleman whom he had offended. The friend whom wild from wisdom's way, (Not moony madness more astray,) Mine was th' insensate frenzied part: Ah, why should I such scenes outlive! |