Alake, alake, the meikle deil

Wi' a' his witches

Are at it, skelpin'!" jig and reel,

In my poor pouches.

I modestly fu' fain" wad hint it,
That one pound one, I sairly want it :
If wi' the hizziex down ye sent it,

It would be kind;

And while my heart wi' life-blood dunted,
I'd bear 't in mind.

So may the auld year gang out moaning
To see the new come laden, groaning,
Wi' double plenty o'er the loanin',

To thee and thine;

Domestic peace and comforts crowning
The hale design.

POSTSCRIPT.

Ye've heard this while how I've been licket,
And by fell death was nearly nicket:
Grim foun! he gat me by the fecket,b

And sair me sheuk;

But by guid luck I lape a wicket,

And turn'd a neuk.d

But by that health, I've got a share o't,
And by that life, I'm promis'd mair o't,
My hale and weele I 'Il take a care o't
A tentier way;

Then farewell folly, hide and hair o't,
For ance and ay.

u Tripping.
y Beats.

The girl.

Whole. b A jacket. e Health and welfare.

w Very desirous. The place of milking. c Leaped. d Corner. More cautious.

TO A GENTLEMAN WHOM HE HAD

OFFENDED.

THE friend whom wild from wisdom's way
The fumes of wine infuriate send
(Not moony madness more astray);
Who but deplores that hapless friend?
Mine was th' insensate frenzied part,
Ah why should I such scenes outlive!
Scenes so abhorrent to my heart!
'Tis thine to pity and forgive.

TO AN OLD SWEETHEART, After her marriage, with a Present of a copy of his Poems.

ONCE fondly lov'd, and still remember'd dear,
Sweet early object of my youthful vows,
Accept this mark of friendship, warm, sincere,
Friendship!-'tis all cold duty now allows :-
And when you read the simple, artless rhymes,
One friendly sigh for him (he asks no more),
Who distant burns in flaming, torrid climes,
Or haply lies beneath th' Atlantic roar.

TO MISS LOGAN,

With Beattie's Poems, as a New-year's Gitt.

AGAIN the silent wheels of time

Jan. 1, 1787.

Their annual round have driv'n,
And you tho' scarce in maiden prime,
Are so much nearer heav'n.

No gifts have I from Indian coasts
The infant year to hail;

I send you more than India boasts,
In Edwin's simple tale.

L

Our sex with guile and faithless love
Is charg'd, perhaps, too true;
But may, dear maid, each lover prove
An Edwin still to you.

TO A YOUNG LADY,

Miss Jessy Lewars, Dumfries; with a Present of Books.
THINE be the volumes, Jessy fair,
And with them take the Poet's prayer-
That Fate may in her fairest page,
With ev'ry kindliest, best presage
Of future bliss enrol thy name:
With native worth, and spotless fame,
And wakeful caution still aware
Of ill-but chief, man's felon snare;
All blameless joys on earth we find,
And all the treasures of the mind-
These be thy guardian and reward;
So prays thy faithful friend, the Bard.

TO A YOUNG LADY,

With a Present of Songs.

HERE, where the Scottish Muse immortal lives,
In sacred strains and tuneful numbers join'd,
Accept the gift; tho' humble he who gives,
Rich is the tribute of the grateful mind.

So may no ruffian-feeling in thy breast,
Discordant, jar thy bosom chords among;
But peace attune thy gentle soul to rest,
Or love ecstatic wake his seraph song:

Or pity's notes, in luxury of tears,

As modest want the tale of woe reveals; While conscious virtue all the strain endears, And heav'n-born piety her sanction seals.

TO A LADY,

With a Present of a Pair of Drinking-Glasses.

FAIR empress of the Poet's soul,
And queen of Poetesses-
Clarinda, take this little boon,

This humble pair of glasses.—
And fill them high with generous juice,
As generous as your mind;

And pledge me in the generous toastThe whole of human kind!'

To those who love us!'-second fill ; But not to those whom we love ; Lest we love those who love not us! A third-To thee and me, love!'

TO MISS CRUICKSHANKS,
A very Young Lady, with a Present of a Book.
BEAUTEOUS rose-bud, young and gay,
Blooming on thy early May,
Never may'st thou, lovely flow'r,
Chilly shrink in sleety show'r!

Never Boreas' hoary path,

Never Eurus' pois'nous breath,
Never baleful stellar lights,

Taint thee with untimely blights!
Never, never reptile thief

Riot on thy virgin leaf!

Nor even Sol too fiercely view

Thy bosom blushing still with dew!

May'st thou long, sweet crimson gem,

Richly deck thy native stem;
Till some ev'ning, sober, calm,
Dropping dews, and breathing balm,
While all around the woodland rings,
And ev'ry bird thy requiem sings;

Thou amid the dirgeful sound,

Shed thy dying honours round,

And resign to parent earth

The loveliest form she e'er gave birth !

TO A LADY,

Whom the Author had often celebrated under the name of Chloris, with a Present of a Copy of his Poems.

'Tis Friendship's pledge, my young fair friend, Nor thou the gift refuse,

Nor with unwilling ear'attend

The moralizing musė.

Since thou, in all thy youth and charms,

Must bid the world adieu,

(A world 'gainst peace in constant arms)
To join the friendly few:

Since, thy gay morn of life o'ercast,
Chill came the tempest's lower
(And ne'er misfortune's eastern blast
Did nip a fairer flower):

Since life's gay scenes must charm no more,
Still much is left behind;

Still nobler wealth hast thou in store,
The comforts of the mind!

Thine is the self-approving glow,
On conscious honour's part;
And, dearest gift of Heaven below,
Thine friendship's truest heart.

The joys refin'd of sense and taste,
With every Muse to rove :
And doubly were the Poet blest
Those joys could he improve.