TO JAMES SMITH.

For me, I swear by sun an' moon,
And every star that blinks aboon,
Ye've cost me twenty pair of shoon

Just gaun to see you;

And every ither pair that 's done,

Mair ta'en I'm wi' you.

That auld capricious carlin, Nature,
To mak' amends for scrimpit stature,
She's turned you aff, a human creature
On her first plan;

And in her freaks, on every feature

She's wrote, "The Man."

Just now I've ta'en the fit o' rhyme,
My barmie noddle's working prime,
My fancy yerkit up sublime

Wi' hasty summon:

Ha'e ye a leisure moment's time

To hear what's comin'?

Some rhyme a neibor's name to lash;

Some rhyme (vain thought!) for needfu' cash;
Some rhyme to court the countra clash,

An' raise a din;

For me, an aim I never fash;

I rhyme for fun.

This while my notion's ta'en a sklent,
To try my fate in guid black prent;
But still, the mair I'm that way bent,

Something cries "Hoolie!
I rede you, honest man, tak' tent! 2

Ye'll shaw your folly.

"There's ither poets much your betters,
Far seen in Greek, deep men o' letters,
Ha'e thought they had ensured their debtors,
A' future ages;

Now moths deform in shapeless tatters

Their unknown pages."

1 Slant.

2 Care.

191

Then fareweel hopes o' laurel-boughs,
To garland my poetic brows!

Henceforth I'll rove where busy ploughs
Are whistling thrang,

An' teach the lanely heights an' howes

My rustic sang.

I'll wander on, with tentless 1 heed
How never-halting moments speed,
Till fate shall snap the brittle thread;
Then, all unknown,

I'll lay me with th' inglorious dead,

Forgot and gone!

But why o' death begin a tale ?
Just now we're living, sound and hale,
Then top and maintop crowd the sail,

Heave care owre side!

And large, before enjoyment's gale,

Let's tak' the tide.

This life, sae far 's I understand,
Is a' enchanted fairy-land,

Where pleasure is the magic wand

That, wielded right,

Mak's hours like minutes, hand in hand,

Dance by fu' light.

The magic wand, then, let us wield;
For, ance that five-an'-forty's speeled,
See crazy, weary, joyless eild,

Wi' wrinkled face,

When ance life's day draws near the gloamin',
Then fareweel vacant, careless roamin';
An' fareweel cheerfu' tankards foamin',

An' social noise;

An' fareweel, dear deluding woman,
The joy of joys!

O Life! how pleasant is thy morning,
Young Fancy's rays the hills adorning!
Cold-passing Caution's lesson scorning,
We frisk away,

Like schoolboys, at th' expected warning,
To joy and play.

1 Careless.

193

TO JAMES SMITH.

We wander there, we wander here,
We eye the rose upon the brier,
Unmindful that the thorn is near,

Among the leaves;

And though the puny wound appear,

Short while it grieves.

Some, lucky, find a flowery spot,
For which they never toiled nor swat;
They drink the sweet and eat the fat,

But care or pain;

And, haply, eye the barren hut

With high disdain.

With steady aim some Fortune chase;

Keen hope does every sinew brace;

Through fair, through foul, they urge the race,

And seize the prey;

Then cannie, in some cozie place,

They close the day.

And others, like your humble servan',
Poor wights! nae rules nor roads observin';
To right or left eternal swervin',

They zig-zag on;

"Till curst with age, obscure and starvin',

They aften groan.

Alas! what bitter toil an' straining—
But truce with peevish, poor complaining!
Is Fortune's fickle Luna waning?

E'en let her gang!

Beneath what light she has remaining

Let's sing our sang.

My pen I here fling to the door,

66

And kneel, Ye Powers!" and warm implore,
"Though I should wander Terra o'er,

In all her climes,

Grant me but this, I ask no more,

A rowth' o' rhymes.

'Gi'e dreeping roasts to countra lairds,
Till icicles hing frae their beards;
Gi'e fine braw claes to fine life-guards

And maids of honour;

And yill an' whiskey gi'e to cairds,"
Until they sconner."

Plenty.

2 Tinkers.

3 Loath .

Η

An anxious e'e I never throws
Behint my lug, or by my nose;
I jouk beneath misfortune's blows
As weel's I may;

Sworn foe to sorrow, care, and prose,
I rhyme away.

Oh, ye douce folk, that live by rule,
Grave, tideless-blooded, calm and cool,
Compared wi' you-oh, fool! fool! fool!

How much unlike!

Ye are sae grave, nae doubt ye're wise;
Nae ferly though ye do despise

The hairum-scairum, ram-stam boys,
The rattling squad:

I see you upward cast your eyes

Ye ken the road.

EPISTLE TO MR. M'ADAM, OF CRAIGENGILLAN,

ON RECEIVING AN OBLIGING LETTER FROM MR. M'ADAM.

SIR, o'er a gill I gat your card,

I trow it made me proud;

"See wha tak's notice o' the bard!"
I lap2 and cry fu' loud.

Now de'il-ma-care about their jaw,
The senseless, gawky3 million;
I'll cock my nose aboon them a’-
I'm roosed by Craigengillan!

'Twas noble, sir, 'twas like yoursel',
To grant your high protection:
A great man's smile, ye ken fu' well,
Is aye a blest infection.

Though by his banes wha in a tub5
Matched Macedonian Sandy!"
On my ain legs, through dirt and dub,
I independent stand aye.

And when those legs to guid warm kail,'
Wi' welcome canna bear me;

A lee dike-side, a sybow tail,"
And barley-scone shall cheer me.

Heaven spare you lang to kiss the breath
O' mony flowery simmers!

And bless your bonny lasses baith-
I'm tauld they 're lo'esome kimmers!:0

And God bless young Dunaskin's laird,
The blossom of our gentry!

And may he wear an auld man's beard,
A credit to his country!

1 Vow.

• Praised.

6 Alexander the Great. Sandy is the Scotch abbreviation for Alexander.

7 Broth.

10 Heart-enticing creatures,

9

A shady wall-side, The young onion,