portant matters, on which even a solitary newspaper had thrown light, and this he has done with both knowledge and humour. We know now-to the shame of Europe be it said who has the "tack of Poland;" and we know, too, that the march of the Swede resembled any thing but that of "Charles the Twalt." We also know that Warren Hastings triumphed over the eloquence of his opponents, and is now looked upon by many as a sort of martyr in the cause of our empire in the East. The favourable change which took place respecting him in public opinion, I have heard ascribed to a pamphlet written by Logan, the minister of Leith. The modesty of the court of George the Third, and the licence of that of the Prince of Wales, formed a strange contrast: Burns was not solitary in his sarcastic strictures on the wild course of life pursued by some of the young princes. His sallies are not at all ill-natured, nor is he unwilling to believe that the folly of youth will sober down into sedateness and wisdom. The satires of Wolcot on the King were vulgar, nor remarkable for talent those ascribed to Moore on the court of the Fourth George are sharp and severe, and distinguished by their sprightliness and wit. THE KIRKS ALARM. A BALLAD. [SECOND VERSION.] I. ORTHODOX, Orthodox, Who believe in John Knox, Let me sound an alarm to your conscienceThere's a heretic blast, Has been blawn i' the wast, That what is not sense must be nonsense. Orthodox, That what is not sense must be nonsense, II. Doctor Mac, Doctor Mac, Ye should stretch on a rack, To strike evil doers wi' terror; To join faith and sense, Upon any pretence, Was heretic damnable error, Doctor Mac, Was heretic damnable error. VOL. III. K Town of Ayr, town of Ayr, It was rash I declare, To meddle wi' mischief a brewing; Provost John is still deaf To the church's relief, And orator Bob is it's ruin, Town of Ayr, And orator Bob is its ruin. IV. D'rymple mild, D'rymple mild, Tho' your heart's like a child, And your life like the new driven snaw, Yet that winna save ye, Old Satan must have ye For preaching that three's ane an' twa, D'rymple mild, For preaching that three's ane an' twa. V. Calvin's sons, Calvin's sons, Seize your spiritual guns, Ammunition ye never can need; Your hearts are the stuff, Will be powder enough, And your sculls are a storehouse of lead, Calvin's sons, And your sculls are a storehouse of lead. VI. Rumble John, Rumble John, Mount the steps with a groan, Cry the book is with heresy cramm'd; Then lug out your ladle, Deal brimstone like aidle, And roar every note o' the damn'd, Rumble John, And roar every note o' the damn'd. VII. Simper James, Simper James, Leave the fair Killie dames, There's a holier chase in your view; I'll lay on your head, That the pack ye'll soon lead, For puppies like you there's but few, Simper James, For puppies like you there's but few. VIII. Singet Sawnie, Singet Sawnie, Are ye herding the penny, Unconscious what danger awaits? With a jump, yell, and howl, Alarm every soul, For Hannibal's just at your gates, Singet Sawnie, For Hannibal's just at your gates. IX. Andrew Gowk, Andrew Gowk, Ye may slander the book, And the book nought the waur-let me tell you; Tho' ye're rich and look big, Yet lay by hat and wig, And ye'll hae a calf's-head o' sma' value, 'Andrew Gowk, And ye'll hae a calf's-head o' sma' value. X. Poet Willie, Poet Willie, Gie the doctor a volley, Wi' your "liberty's chain" and your wit; O'er Pegasus' side, Ye ne'er laid a stride, Ye only stood by when he sh Poet Willie, Ye only stood by when he sh XI. Barr Steenie, Barr Steenie What mean ye? what mean ye? If ye'll meddle nae mair wi' the matter, To havins and sense man, Wi' people that ken you nae better, Barr Steenie, Wi' people that ken you nae better. |