O THOU DREAD POWER Epigram on Rough Roads.1 I'm now arrived-thanks to the gods!- That heedless sinners shall be damn'd, Prayer. O thou Dread Power.2 Lying at a reverend friend's house one night, the author left the following verses in the room where he slept: O THOU dread Power, who reign'st above, I know thou wilt me hear, When for this scene of peace and love, The hoary Sire-the mortal stroke, And show what good men are. She, who her lovely offspring eyes Their hope, their stay, their darling youth. Bless him, Thou God of love and truth, Cross-country roads in Ayrshire. 2 The reverend friend is the Rev. Dr Lawrie. FAREWELL TO BANKS OF AYR The beauteous, seraph sister-band- Thou know'st the snares on ev'ry hand, When, soon or late, they reach that coast, O'er Life's rough ocean driven, May they rejoice, no wand'rer lost, Farewell Song to the Banks of Ayr.1 Tune-"Roslin Castle." "I composed this song as I conveyed my chest so far on my road to Greenock, where I was to embark in a few days for Jamaica. I meant it as my farewell dirge to my native land."-R.B. THE gloomy night is gath'ring fast, The Autumn mourns her rip'ning corn ADDRESS TO THE TOOTHACHE "Tis not the surging billow's roar, Farewell, old Coila's hills and dales, Farewell, my friends! farewell, my foes! Address to the Toothache.1 My curse upon your venom'd stang, Wi' gnawing vengeance, When fevers burn, or agues freeze us, Adown my beard the slavers trickle, I throw the wee stools o'er the mickle, 1 Dated by Mr Scott Douglas in 1786-87, as it is found written on the fly-leaf of a copy of the Kilmarnock a ear. edition. Currie's text differs in one or two small points. 2 "kick" is Cunningham's reading. ON MEETING LORD DAER While round the fire the giglets keckle," An', raving mad, I wish a heckle е In a' the numerous human dools,d g The tricks o' knaves, or fash o' fools, Where'er that place be priests ca' hell, Thou, TOOTHACHE, surely bear'st the bell, O thou grim, mischief-making chiel, In gore, a shoe-thick, Gie a' the faes o' SCOTLAND's weal A towmond's' toothache! ON MEETING LORD DAER I've been at drucken writers' feasts, I've even join'd the honour'd jorum, But wi' a Lord!-stand out my shin, Up higher yet, my bonnet! But O for Hogarth's magic pow'r! с I sidling shelter'd in a nook, Like some portentous omen; I marked nought uncommon. I watch'd the symptoms o' the Great, Mair than an honest ploughman. Then from his Lordship I shall learn, over six feet. wild stare. • gazing stupidly. d wooden bridle. |