AN ANSWER TO THE FOREGOING.
SIR, I had yours, and own my pleasure,
On the receipt, exceeded measure.
You write with fo much fp'rit and glee,
Sae fmooth, fae ftrong, correct, and free,
That any he (by you allow'd
To have some merit) may be proud.
If that's my fault, bear you the blame,
Wha 've lent me fic a lift to fame.
Your ain tow'rs high, and widens far,
Bright glancing like a first-rate star,
And all the world beftow due praise
On the Collection of your lays;
Where various arts and turns combine,
Which even in parts firft poets fhine:
Like Matt and Swift ye fing with ease,
And can be Waller when you please.
Continue, Sir, and fhame the crew
That's plagu'd with having nought to do;
Whom fortune in a merry mood
Has overcharg'd with gentle blood,
But has deny'd a genius fit
For action or afpiring wit;
Such kenna how t' employ their time,
And think activity a crime.
Ought they to either do or fay,
Or walk, or write, or read, or pray,
When money, their factotum's able
To furnish them a numerous rabble,
Who will, for daily drink and wages,
Be chairmen, chaplains, clerks, and pages?
Could they, like you, employ their hours
In planting these delightful flowers,
Which carpet the poetic fields,
And lafting funds of pleasure yields;
Nae mair they'd gaunt and gove away,
Or fleep or loiter out the day,
Or waste the night, damning their fauls,
In deep debauch and bawdy brawls;
Whence pox and poverty proceed,
An early eild, and spirits dead.
Reverse of you, and him you love,
Whose brighter fpirit tow'rs above
The mob of thoughtless lords and beaux,
Who in his ilka action fhows
"True friendship, love, benevolence,
“Unstudy'd wit, and manly fenfe."
Allow here what you 've faid yourfell,
Nought can b' expreft fo juft and well.
To him and her, worthy his love,
And every bleffing from above,
A fon is given, God fave the boy,
For theirs and every Som'ril's joy.
Ye wardens! round him take your place,
And raife him with each manly grace;
Make his meridian virtues fhine,
To add fresh luftres to his line:
And many may the mother fee
Of fuch a lovely progeny.
Now, Sir, when Boreas nae mair thuds
Hail, fnaw, and fleet, frae blacken'd clouds;
While Caledonian hills are green,
And a' her ftraths delight the een;
While ilka flower with fragrance blows,
And a' the year its beauty fhows;
Before again the winter lour,
What hinders then your northern tour?
Be fure of welcome; nor believe
These wha an ill report would give
To Ed'nburgh and the land of cakes,
That nought what 's neceffary lacks.
Here plenty's goddefs frae her horn.
Pours fish and cattle, claith and corn,
In blyth abundance; and yet mair,
Our men are brave, our ladies fair:
Nor will North Britain yield for fouth
Of ilka thing, and fellows couth,
To ony but her fifter South.
True, rugged roads are curfed dreigh,
And speats aft roar frae mountains heigh:
The body tires, (poor tottering clay!)
And likes with ease at hame to stay;
While fauls ftride warlds at ilka ftend,
And can their widening views extend.
Mine fees you, while you cheerfu' roam
On fweet Avona's flow'ry howm,
There recollecting, with full view,
These follies which mankind pursue;
While, conscious of fuperior merit,
You rife with a correcting spirit,
And as an agent of the gods,
Lash them with fharp fatyric rods :
Labour divine!-Next, for a change,
O'er hill and dale I fee you range
After the fox or whidding hare,
Confirming health in pureft air;
While joy frae heights and dales resounds,
Rais'd by the holla, horn, and hounds:
Fatigu❜d, yet pleas'd, the chace out run,
I fee the friend, and setting fun,
Invite you to the temp'rate bicker,
Which makes the blood and wit flow quicker.
The clock ftrikes twelve, to reft you bound,
To fave your health by fleeping found.
Thus with cool head and healfome breast,
You fee new day stream frae the east;
Then all the muses round you shine,
Inspiring ev'ry thought divine:
Be long their aid :-your years and blifes,
Your fervant Allan Ramfay wishes.
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