Lord, hear my earnest cry an' pray'r, Thy strong right hand, Lord, make it bare, Lord, weigh it down, and dinna spare, O Lord my God, that glib-tongu❜d P Aiken, While he, wi' hingin' lips an' snakin', Lord, in the day of vengeance try him; Nor hear their pray'r; But, for thy people's sake, destroy 'em, But, Lord, remember me and mine An' a' the glory shall be thine, Amen, Amen. EPITAPH ON HOLY WILLIE. HERE Holy Willie's sair worn clay, His saul has taen some other way, Stop! there he is, as sure's a gun, p Having readiness of speech. Your brunstane devilship, I see, But hear me, sir, deil as ye are, THE CALF. TO THE REVERENL MR. On his text, Malachi iv. 2.- And they shall go forth, and grow up, like calves of the stall." RIGHT, Sir! your text I'll prove it true, For instance, there's yoursel just now, And should some patron be so kind, I doubt na, sir, but then we 'll find But, if the lover's raptur'd hour Tho', when some kind, connubial dear, The like has been, that you may wear 9A very calf. r A yearling bullock. • An ox. And in your lug, most reverend James, And when ye 're number'd wi' the dead, Wi' justice they may mark your head- TO A LOUSE. On seeing one on a Lady's Bonnet at Church. Owre gauze and lace; Ye ugly, creepin', blastit wonner,a Gae somewhere else and seek your dinner, Swith, in some beggar's haffet squattle;e In shoals and nations; Whare horn nor bane ne'er dare unsettle Now haud ye there, ye're out o' sight, The vera tapmost, tow'ring height My sooth! right bauld ye set your nose out, As plump and gray as onie grozet ;8 O for some rank, mercurial rozet,h Or fell, red smeddum,1 I'd gie you sic a hearty doze o't, Wad dress your droddum !* I wad na be surpris'd to spy But Miss's fine Lunardi' fie, How dare ye do't? O Jenny, dinna toss your head, The blastie's makin'! O wad some pow'r the giftie gie us It wad frae monie a blunder free us And foolish notion: What airs in dress an' gait wad lea'e us, ODE, SACRED TO THE MEMORY OF MRS. DWELLER in yon dungeon dark, ? An ancient head-dress. • A fannel vest. p Abroad. Noosing with care a bursting purse, STROPHE. View the wither'd beldam's face- Aught of humanity's sweet melting grace? See those hands, ne'er stretch'd to save, Lo! there she goes-unpitied and unblest! ANTISTROPHE. Plunderer of armies, lift thine eyes (Awhile forbear, ye tort'ring fiends), Seest thou whose step unwilling hither bends? No fallen angel, hurl'd from upper skies; 'Tis thy trusty quondam mate, Doom'd to share thy fiery fate, She, tardy, hell-ward plies. EPODE. And are they of no more avail, O, bitter mock'ry of the pompous bier, The cave-lodg'd beggar, with a conscience clear, Expires in rags, unknown, and goes to heav'n. MONODY, On a Lady famed for her caprice. How cold is that bosom which folly once fir'd! How pale is that cheek where the rouge lately glisten'd! |