THE CALF What bursting anguish tears my heart; All hail then, the gale then, Wafts me from thee, dear shore! It rustles, and whistles I'll never see thee more! The Calf.1 To the Rev. JAMES STEVEN, on his text, MALACHI, ch. iv. vers. 2. "And ye shall go forth, and grow up, as CALVES of the stall." RIGHT, sir! your text I'll prove it true, For instance, there's yoursel just now, NATURE'S LAW Tho' when some kind connubial dear The like has been that you may wear And, in your lug, most reverend James, Few men o' sense will doubt your claims And when ye're number'd wi' the dead, With justice they may mark your head— Nature's Law-A Poem.1 Humbly inscribed to Gavin Hamilton, Esq. gun Great Nature spoke, with air benign, This lower world I you resign; The liquid fire of strong desire I've pour'd it in each bosom ; Here, on this hand, does Mankind stand, s low. ⚫ cattle. ⚫ dissension. 1 An affecting celebration of the twins aforesaid. NATURE'S LAW The Hero of these artless strains, Who sung his rhymes in Coila's plains, He felt the powerful, high behest Propitious Powers screen'd the young flow'rs, From mildews of abortion; And lo! the bard-a great reward Has got a double portion ! Auld cantie Coil may count the day, The third of Libra's equal sway, That gave another Burns, With future rhymes, an' other times, To emulate his sire: To sing auld Coil in nobler style, Ye Powers of peace, and peaceful song, Lang may she stand to prop the land, merry. WILLIE CHALMERS Song-Willie Chalmers.1 Mr Chalmers, a gentleman in Ayrshire, a particular friend of mine, asked me to write a poetic epistle to a young lady, his Dulcinea. I had seen her, but was scarcely acquainted with her, and wrote as follows: Wr' braw new branks in mickle pride, And up Parnassus pechin; Whiles owre a bush wi' downward crush, I doubt na, lass, that weel ken'd name I am nae stranger to your fame, And faith ye'll no be lost a whit, Auld truth hersel' might swear ye're fair, I doubt na fortune may you shore' And band upon his breastie : 1 Given to Lockhart by Lady Harriet Don, "a divine lady.' REPLY TO A TAILOR'S EPISTLE But oh! what signifies to you Some gapin, glowrin countra laird Seek Heaven for help, and barefit skelpa Forgive the Bard! my fond regard Reply to a Trimming Epistle received WHAT ails ye now, ye lousie bitch I didna suffer half sae much |