From those drear solitudes and frowsy cells, Where Infamy with sad Repentance dwells; Where turnkeys make the jealous portal fast, And deal from iron hands the spare repast; Where truant 'prentices, yet young in sin, Blush at the curious stranger peeping in; Where strumpets, relics of the drunken roar, Resolve to drink, nay, half, to

Late crippl'd of an arm, and now a leg, About to beg a pass for leave to beg; Dull, listless, teas'd, dejected, and deprest (Nature is adverse to a cripple's rest); Will generous Graham list to his Poet's wail? (It soothes poor Misery, hearkening to her tale) And hear him curse the light he first

Health to the Maxwell's veteran Chief! Health, aye unsour'd bycare orgrief: Inspir'd, I turn'd Fate's sibyl leaf, This natal morn, I see thy life is stuff o' prief, Scarce quite half-worn. This day thou metes threescore eleven, And I can tell that bounteous Heaven (The second-sight, ye ken, is given To ilka Poet) On thee

Wow, but your letter made me vauntie! And are ye hale, and weeland cantie? I ken'd it still, your wee bitjauntie Wadbring ye to: Lord send you aye as weel's I want ye! And then ye'll do. The ill-thiefblawthe Heron south! And never drink be near his drouth! He tauldmyself by word o' mouth, He'd

Auld comrade dear, and brithersinner, How's a' the folk about Glenconner? How do you this blaeeastlinwind, That's like to blawa bodyblind? For me, my faculties are frozen, My dearest member nearly dozen'd. I've sent you here, by Johnie Simson, Twasage philosophers to glimpse on; Smith, wi' his sympathetic feeling, An' Reid, to common sense appealing.

In this strange land, this uncouth clime, A land unknown to prose or rhyme; Where words ne'er cross't the Muse's heckles, Nor limpit in poetic shackles: A land that Prose did never view it, Except when drunk he stacher't thro' it; Here, ambush'd by the chimlacheek, Hid in anatmosphere of reek, I hear a wheel

When Nature her great master-piece design'd, And fram'd her last, best work, the human mind, Her eye intent on all the mazy plan, She form'd of various parts the various Man. Then first she calls the useful many forth; Plain plodding Industry, and sober Worth: Thence peasants, farmers, native sons of earth, And merchandise' whole

Gudewife, I Mind it weelin early date, When I was bardless, young, and blate, An' first could thresh the barn, Or hauda yokin' at the pleugh; An, tho' forfoughtensaireneugh, Yet uncoproud to learn: When first amang the yellow corn A man I reckon'd was, An' wi' the laveilk merry morn Could rank my rigand lass,

I Langhae thought, my youthfu' friend, A something to have sent you, Tho' it should serve nae itherend Than just a kind memento: But how the subject-theme may gang, Let time and chance determine; Perhaps it may turn out a sang: Perhaps turn out a sermon. Ye'll try the world soon, my lad; And, Andrew