"May ne'er Misfortune's gowling bark
Howl through the dwelling o' the Clerk !1
May ne'er his generous, honest heart,
For that same generous spirit smart!
May Kennedy's far-honoured name
Lang beat his hymeneal flame,
Till Hamiltons, at least a dizzen,
Are by their canty fireside risen:
Five bonny lasses round their table,
And seven braw fellows, stout and able,
To serve their king and country weel,
By word, or pen, or pointed steel!
May health and peace, with mutual rays,
Shine on the evening o' his days,
Till his wee curlie John's ier-oe,
When ebbing life nae mair shall flow,
The last, sad mournful rites bestow."

I will not wind a lang conclusion
With complimentary effusion:

feed

cheerful

great-grandchild

But whilst your wishes and endeavours
Are blest wi' fortune's smiles and favours,
I am, dear sir, with zeal most fervent,
Your much indebted, humble servant.

But if (which powers above prevent!)
That iron-hearted carl, Want,

Attended in his grim advances

1 A sobriquet for Mr. Hamilton, probably because of his acting in this capacity to some of the county courts.

By sad mistakes and black mischances,
While hopes, and joys, and pleasures fly him,
Make you as poor a dog as I am,

Your humble servant then no more;
For who would humbly serve the poor?
But by a poor man's hopes in Heaven!
While recollection's power is given,
If, in the vale of humble life,
The victim sad of fortune's strife,
I, through the tender-gushing tear,
Should recognise my master dear,
If friendless, low, we meet together,
Then, sir, your hand my friend and brother!

FAREWELL TO THE BRETHREN OF ST. JAMES'S LODGE, TORBOLTON.

TUNE- Good-night, and Joy be wi' you a'.

ADIEU! a heart-warm, fond adieu !
Dear brothers of the mystic tie!
Ye favoured, ye enlightened few,
Companions of my social joy.
Though I to foreign lands must hie,
Pursuing Fortune's slidd'ry ba',
With melting heart, and brimful eye,

I'll mind you still, though far awa'. remember

Oft have I met your social band,

And spent the cheerful, festive night;
Oft, honoured with supreme command,
Presided o'er the Sons of Light:
And by that hieroglyphic bright

Which none but Craftsmen ever saw !
Strong Memory on my heart shall write
Those happy scenes when far awa'.

May Freedom, Harmony, and Love,
Unite you in the grand design,
Beneath the Omniscient Eye above,
The glorious Architect Divine!
That you may keep the unerring line,
Still rising by the plummet's law,
Till Order bright completely shine,
Shall be my prayer when far awa'.

And you, farewell! whose merits claim,
Justly, that highest badge to wear!
Heaven bless your honoured, noble name,
To masonry and Scotia dear!
A last request permit me here,
When yearly ye assemble a',
One round-I ask it with a tear

To him, the Bard that's far awa'1

1 The person alluded to in the last stanza was Major-Gen. eral James Montgomery (a younger brother of Hugh Montgomery of Coilsfield), who now enjoyed the dignity of the Worshipful Grand Master in this village lodge, while Robert Burns was Depute Master.

ON A PROCESSION OF THE ST. JAMES'S LODGE.

The St. James's Lodge at this time met in a small stifling back-room connected with the inn of the village a humble cottage-like place of entertainment kept by one Manson. On the approach of St. John's Day, the 24th of June, when a procession of the lodge was contemplated, Burns sent a rhymed note on the subject to his medical friend Mr. Mackenzie, with whom, it may be explained, he had lately had some controversy on the origin of morals.

FRIDAY first's the day appointed
By the Right Worshipful anointed,
To hold our grand procession ;

To get a blad o' Johnnie's morals, liberal portion
And taste a swatch o' Manson's barrels, sample
I' the way of our profession.

The Master and the Brotherhood

Would a' be glad to see you;

For me I would be mair than proud
To share the mercies wi' you. entertainment
If Death, then, wi' skaith, then, hurt
Some mortal heart is hechtin', threatening
Inform him, and storm him,

That Saturday you'll fecht him. fight
ROBERT BURNS.

MOSSGIEL, An. M. 5790.

THE SONS OF OLD KILLIE.

TUNE- Shawnboy.

Burns joined on at least one occasion in the festivities of the Kilmarnock Lodge, presided over by his friend William Parker; on which occasion he produced an appropriate song.

YE sons of old Killie, assembled by Willie,
To follow the noble vocation;

Your thrifty old mother has scarce such another
To sit in that honourèd station.

I've little to say, but only to pray,

As praying's the ton of your fashion;

A prayer from the Muse you well may excuse, 'Tis seldom her favourite passion.

Ye powers who preside o'er the wind and the tide,

Who marked each element's border;

Who formed this frame with beneficent aim,

Whose sovereign statute is order;

Within this dear mansion may wayward Con

tention

Or withered Envy ne'er enter;

May Secrecy round be the mystical bound,
And Brotherly Love be the centre.