Nae heathen name shall I prefix, FraePindus orParnassus; Auld Reekiedings them a' to sticks, For rhyme-inspiring lasses. Jove's tunefu' dochters three times three Made Homer deep their debtor; But, gienthe bodyhalf ane'e, Nine Ferriers waddone better! Last day my mindwas in a bog, Down George's Street I stoited; A creeping cauldprosaic fog My very sense [...]
Again the silent wheels of time Their annual round have driven, And you, tho' scarce in maiden prime, Are so much nearer Heaven. Nogifts have I from Indian coasts The infant year to hail; I send you more than India boasts, In Edwin's simple tale. Our sex with guile, and faithless love, Is charg'd, perhaps [...]
Rattlin', Roarin' Willie^1 As I cambyCrochallan, I canniliekeekit ben; Rattlin', roarin' Willie Was sittin at yon boord-en'; Sittin at yonboord-en, And amanggudecompanie; Rattlin', roarin' Willie, You're welcome hameto me!
Thickest night, o'erhang my dwelling! Howling tempests, o'er me rave! Turbid torrents, wintry swelling, Roaring by my lonely cave! Crystal streamlets gently flowing, Busy haunts of base mankind, Western breezes softly blowing, Suit not my distracted mind. In the cause of Right engaged, Wrongs injurious to redress, Honour's war we strongly waged, But the Heavens [...]
When dear Clarinda, matchless fair, First struck Sylvander's raptur'd view, He gaz'd, he listened to despair, Alas! 'twas all he dared to do. Love, from Clarinda's heavenly eyes, Transfixed his bosom thro' and thro'; But still in Friendships' guarded guise, For more the demon fear'd to do. That heart, already more than lost, The imp [...]
We camna here to view your warks, In hopes to be mairwise, But only, lest we gangto hell, It may be naesurprise: Butwhen we tirl'd at your door Your porter doughtnahear us; Saemay, shou'd we to Hell's yetts come, Your billy Satan sairus!
How pleasant the banks of the clear winding Devon, With green spreading bushes and flow'rs blooming fair! Butthe boniest flow'r on the banks of the Devon Was once a sweet bud on the braes of the Ayr. Mild be the sun on this sweet blushing flower, In the gay rosy morn, as it bathes in [...]
No sculptured marble here, nor pompous lay, "No storied urn nor animated bust;" This simple stone directs pale Scotia's way, To pour her sorrows o'er the Poet's dust. Additional Stanzas She mourns, sweet tuneful youth, thy hapless fate; Tho' all the powers of song thy fancy fired, Yet Luxury and Wealth lay by in state, [...]
Whoe'er he be that sojourns here, I pity much his case, Unless he comes to wait upon The Lord their God, His Grace. There's naethinghere butHighland pride, And Highland scab and hunger: If Providence has sent me here, 'Twas surely in his anger.
A' The lads o' Thorniebank, When they gaeto the shore o' Bucky, They'll step in an'taka pint Wi'Lady Onlie, honest Lucky. Chorus.-Lady Onlie, honest Lucky, Brews gude ale at shore o' Bucky; I wish her sale for her gudeale, The best on a'the shoreo' Bucky. Her house sae bien, her curchsaeclean I watshe is a [...]