What tho' young empty airy sparks
May hae their critical remarks
On thir, my blythe diverting warks,
'Tis sma' presumption

To say they're but unlearn'd clarks,

And want the gumption.

Let coxcomb critics get a tether
To tye up a' their lang loose leather;
If they and I chance to forgether,
The tane may rue it,

For an' they winna haud their blether,
They's get a flewet.

To learn them for to peep and pry
In secret drolls 'twixt thee and I,
Pray dip thy pen in wrath, and cry,

And ca' them skellums,

I'm sure thou needs set little by

To bide their bellums. Wi' writing I'm sae bleirt and doited, That when I raise, in troth, I stoited; I thought I should turn capernoited, For wi' a gird,

Upon my bum I fairly cloited

On the cald eard;

Which did oblige a little dumple
Upon my doup, close by my rumple;
But had you seen how I did trumple,
Ye'd split your side,

Wi' mony a lang and weary wimple,
Like trough o' Clyde.

ANSWER II.

Edinburgh, August 4, 1719.

Dear Hamilton, ye'll turn me dyver;

My muse sae bonny ye descrive her,
Ye blaw her sae, I'm fear'd ye rive her,
For wi' a whud,

Gin ony higher up ye drive her,

She'll rin red-wud:

Said I. "Whish't," quoth the vogy jaud,
"William's a wise judicious lad,

Has havins mair than e'er ye had,

Ill-bred bog-stalker ;*

*

But me ye ne'er sae crouse had craw'd,
Ye poor skull-thacker. +

It sets you weel indeed to gadge!‡
E'er I t' Apollo did ye cadge,
And got ye on his honour's badge,
Ungratefu' beast,

A Glasgow capon § and a fadge ||
Ye thought a feast.

Swith to Castalia's fountain-brink,
Dad down a-grouf, ¶ and tak a drink,
Syne whisk out paper, pen and ink,

And do my bidding;

*

"My mistress dear, your servant humble,"
Said I," I shou'd be laith to drumble
Your passions, or e'er gar ye grumble;
"Tis ne'er be me

Shall scandalise, or say ye bummil
Your poetrie."

Frae what I've tell'd, my friend may learn
How sadly I hae been forfairn,

* The muse, not unreasonably angry, puts me here in mind of the favours she has done, by bringing me from stalking over bogs or wild marshes, to lift my head a little brisker among the polite world, which could never have been acquired by the low movements of a mechanic.

†Thatcher of skulls [wig-maker].

Ironically she says, It becomes me mighty well to talk haughtily, and affront my benefactress, by alleging so meanly, that it were possible to praise her out of her solidity.

§ A herring.

A coarse kind of leavened bread, used by the common people. Fall flat on your belly.

I'd better been ayont side Kairn

amount, I trow;

I've kiss'd the tauze,† like a guid bairn-
Now, sir, to you.

Hale be your heart, gay couthie carle,
Lang may ye help to toom a barrel:
Be thy crown aye unclowr'd in quarrel,
When thou inclines

To knoit thrawn-gabbit sumphs that snarl
At our frank lines.

Ilk guid chiel says, ye're weel worth gowd,
And blytheness on ye's weel bestow'd,
'Mang witty Scots your name's be row'd,
Ne'er fame to tine;

The crooked clinkers shall be cow'd,+
But ye shall shine.

Set out the burnt side o' your shin,§
For pride in poets is nae sin;

Glory's the prize for which they rin,
And fame's their jo;

And wha blaws best the horn shall win:
And wherefore no?

Quisquis vocabit nos vain glorious,
Shaw scanter skill than malos mores,

Multi et magni men before us

Did stamp and swagger,

Probatum est, exemplum Horace

Was a bauld bragger.

Then let the doofarts, fash'd wi' spleen,
Cast up the wrang side o' their een,
Pegh, fry, and girn, wi' spite and teen,
And fa' a flyting;

Laugh, for the lively lads will screen

Us frae backbiting.

* A noted hill in the north of Scotland.

Kissed the rod, owned my fault like a good child.

The scribbling rhymers, with their lame versification, shall be cowed, that is, shorn off.

§ As if one would say, "Walk with your toes out." An expression used when one would bid a person (merrily) look brisk.

If that the gypsies dinna spung us,
And foreign whiskers hae na dung us,
Gin I can snifter thro' mundungus

Wi' boots and belt on,

I hope to see you at St Mungo's*

Atween and Beltan.

EPISTLE III.

Gilbertfield, August 24, 1719.

Accept my third and last essay
Of rural rhyme, I humbly pray,
Bright Ramsay, and altho' it may

Seem doilt and donsie,

Yet thrice o' a' things, I heard say,

Was aye thought sonsie.

Wherefore I scarce could sleep or slumber,
"Till I made up that happy number;
The pleasure counterpois'd the cumber
In every part,

And snoov't awa+ like three hand ombre,
Sixpence a cart.

Of thy last poem, bearing date
August the fourth, I grant receipt ;
It was sae braw, gart me look blate,
Maist tine my senses,

And look just like poor country Kate
In Lucky Spence's.

I shaw'd it to our parish priest,
Wha was as blythe as gie'm a feast;
He says, thou may haud up thy creest,
And craw fu' crouse,

The poets a' to thee's but jest,

Not worth a souse.

Thy blythe and cheerfu' merry muse,

Of compliments is sae profuse,

The High Church of Glasgow.

Whirled smoothly round. Snooving always expresses the

action of a top or spindle, &c.

For my guid havins does me roose
Sae very finely,

It were ill-breeding to refuse

To thank her kindly.

What tho' sometimes in angry mood,
When she puts on her barlickhood,
Her dialect seems rough and rude,
Let's ne'er be flee't,

But tak our bit, when it is guid,
And buffet wi't.

For gin ye ettle ance to taunt her,
And dinna calmly thole her banter,

She'll tak the flings*-verse may grow scanter,
Syne wi' great shame

We'll rue the day that we do want her;
Then wha's to blame?

Then let us still her kindness culzie,
And wi' her never breed a tulzie,
For we'll bring aff but little spulzie
In sic a barter;

And she'll be fair to gar us fulzie,
And cry for quarter.
Sae little worth's my rhyming ware,
My pack I scarce daur open mair,
Till I tak better wi' the lair,

My pen's sae blunted;

And a' for fear I file the fair,+

And be affronted.

The dull draff-drink ‡ maks me sae dowff,
A' I can do's but bark and yowff;

Yet set me in a claret howff,

Wi' fouk that's chancy,

My muse may lend me then a gowff

To clear my fancy.

* Turn sullen, restive, and kick.

This phrase is used when one attempts to do what's handsome, and is affronted by not doing it right-not a reasonable fear in him.

+ Heavy malt liquor.