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collapse sectionI. 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
To the Right Honourable, the Lord Gray, upon his sending me Mr Ramsay's Poems.
  
  
  
  
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expand sectionII. 

To the Right Honourable, the Lord Gray, upon his sending me Mr Ramsay's Poems.

Fair fa' your Lordship's canny hand,
That ga' Monorgan, on demand,
Bright Allan's first collections,
Whilk serv'd me as a wing to fly
Unto Apollo's clemency,
For his divine directions.
I'll thank your Lordship heartily,
In my ain Scottish cant,
For that bra' help it made to me;
I wish you never want
A plenty of dainty
Provisions ev'ry day;
I'll bless you, and wish you
What here I winna' say.
Of your bra' dwelling 'gainst the sun,
Near where the gentle Tay doth run,
May your posterity
Be heirs, till time shall be no more;
And as they die, convey'd to glore,
To reign eternally.

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As for Yoursel, Wife, and ilk Child,
And a' your kith and kin,
May ne'er your virtue be defil'd;
But still more honour win.
Incline then, to shine then
Aboon the rambling crew,
That haste ay, to waste ay
Their 'states. My Lord, adieu.