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THE CALF

What bursting anguish tears my heart;
From thee, my Jeany, must I part!
Thou, weeping, answ'rest-"No!"
Alas! misfortune stares my face,
And points to ruin and disgrace,
I for thy sake must go!
Thee, Hamilton, and Aiken dear,
A grateful, warm adieu :
I, with a much-indebted tear,
Shall still remember you!

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,
Tho' heretics may laugh;

For instance, there's yoursel just now,
God knows, an unco calf.

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NATURE'S LAW

Tho' when some kind connubial dear
Your but-and-ben adorns,

The like has been that you may wear
A noble head of horns.

And, in your lug, most reverend James,
To hear you roar and rowt,"

Few men o' sense will doubt your claims
To rank amang the nowt.

And when ye're number'd wi' the dead,
Below a grassy hillock,

With justice they may mark your head—
"Here lies a famous bullock !"

Nature's Law-A Poem.1

Humbly inscribed to Gavin Hamilton, Esq.
"Great Nature spoke: observant man obey'd."-POPE
LET other heroes boast their scars,
The marks of sturt° and strife:
And other poets sing of wars,
The plagues of human life:
Shame fa' the fun, wi' sword and
To slap mankind like lumber!
I sing his name, and nobler fame,
Wha multiplies our number.

gun

Great Nature spoke, with air benign,
"Go on, ye human race;

This lower world I you resign;
Be fruitful and increase.

The liquid fire of strong desire

I've pour'd it in each bosom ;

Here, on this hand, does Mankind stand,
And there is Beauty's blossom."

s low.

⚫ cattle.

⚫ dissension.

1 An affecting celebration of the twins aforesaid.

NATURE'S LAW

The Hero of these artless strains,
A lowly bard was he,

Who sung his rhymes in Coila's plains,
With meikle mirth an' glee;
Kind Nature's care had given his share
Large, of the flaming current;
And, all devout, he never sought
To stem the sacred torrent.

He felt the powerful, high behest
Thrill, vital, thro' and thro';
And sought a correspondent breast,
To give obedience due :

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,
As annual it returns,

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,
With more poetic fire.

Ye Powers of peace, and peaceful song,
Look down with gracious eyes;
And bless auld Coila, large and long,
With multiplying joys;

Lang may she stand to prop the land,
The flow'r of ancient nations;
And Burnses spring, her fame to sing,
To endless generations!

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 eke a braw new brechan,b
My Pegasus I'm got astride,

And up Parnassus pechin;

Whiles owre a bush wi' downward crush,
The doitedd beastie stammers;
Then up he gets, and off he sets,
For sake o' Willie Chalmers.

I doubt na, lass, that weel ken'd name
May cost a pair o' blushes;

I am nae stranger to your fame,
Nor his warm urgèd wishes.
Your bonie face sae mild and sweet,
His honest heart enamours,

And faith ye'll no be lost a whit,
Tho' wair'de on Willie Chalmers.

Auld truth hersel' might swear ye're fair,
And Honour safely back her;
And Modesty assume your air,
And ne'er a ane mistak her:
And sic twa love-inspiring een
Might fire even holy palmers;
Nae wonder then they've fatal been
To honest Willie Chalmers.

I doubt na fortune may you shore'
Some mim-mou'ds pouther'd priestie,
Fu' lifted up wi' Hebrew lore,

And band upon his breastie :

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1 Given to Lockhart by Lady Harriet Don, "a divine lady.'

REPLY TO A TAILOR'S EPISTLE

But oh! what signifies to you
His lexicons and grammars;
The feeling heart's the royal blue,
And that's wi' Willie Chalmers.

Some gapin, glowrin countra laird
May warsle for your favour;
May claw his lug, and straik his beard,
And hoast up some palaver:
My bonie maid, before ye wed
Sic clumsy-witted hammers,

Seek Heaven for help, and barefit skelpa
Awa wi' Willie Chalmers.

Forgive the Bard! my fond regard
For ane that shares my bosom,
Inspires my Muse to gie 'm his ducs.
For deil a hair I roosee him.
May powers aboon unite you soon,
And fructify your amours,
And every year come in mair dear
To you and Willie Chalmers.

Reply to a Trimming Epistle received
from a Tailor.1

WHAT ails ye now, ye lousie bitch
To thresh my back at sic a pitch?
Losh, man! hae mercy wi' your natch,'
Your bodkin's bauld;

I didna suffer half sae much

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