University of Virginia Library

III. VOL. III.—(Poems: Miscellaneous and Uncollected)

I. PART I. Poems published during Ramsay's Lifetime.

TO MR. LAW. [1720]

Great SIR,—

A Tale of Three Bonnets: 1722

Persons in the Poem

• Bard, The Narrator.
• Duniwhistle, Father to Bristle, Joukum, and Bawsy.
• Bristle, A Man of Honour and Resolution.
• Joukum, In love with Rosie.
• Bawsy, A weak Brother.
• Rosie, An Heiress.
• Ghost, Of Duniwhistle.
• Beef, Porter to Rosie.

Canto I.

BARD.
When Men of Mettle thought it Nonsence
To heed that cleping Thing ca'd Conscience;
And by free Thinking had the Knack
Of jeering ilka Word it spake:
And as a learned Author speaks,
Imploy'd it like a Pair of Breeks,
To hide their lewd and nasty Sluces,
Which eith slipt down for baith these Uses.
Then Duniwhistle worn with Years,
And gawn the Gate of his Forbears,
Commanded his three Sons to come
And wait upon him in his Room:
Bad Bristle steek the Door, and syne
He thus began:—

DUNIWHISTLE.
—Dear Bairns of mine,
I quickly maun submit to Fate,
And leave you three a good Estate,
Which has been honourably won,
And handed down frae Sire to Son,
But Clag or Claim for Ages past;
Now that ye mayna prove the last,
Here's three Permission Bonnets for ye,
Which your Grand Gutchers wore before ye;
And if ye'd hae nae Man betray ye,
Let naithing ever wile them frae ye,
But keep the Bonnets on your Heads,
And Hands frae signing foolish Deeds,
And ye shall never want sic Things
Shall gar ye be made of by Kings:
But if you ever with them part,
Fou sair ye'll for your Folly smart.
Bare-headed then ye'll look like Snools,
And dwindle down to silly Tools.
Had up your Hands, now swear and say,
As ye shall answer on a Day,—
Ye'll faithfully observe my Will,
And a' its Premisses fulfill.

BRISTLE.
My worthy Father I shall strive
To keep your Name and Fame alive,
And never shaw a Saul that's dastard,
To gar Fowk tak me for a Bastard:
If e'er by me ye're disobey'd,
May Witches nightly on me ride.

JOUKUM.
Wha e'er shall dare by Force or Guile
This Bonnet aff my Head to wile,
For sic a bauld Attempt shall rue,
And ken I was begot by you.
Else may I like a Gipsie wander,
Or for my daily Bread turn Paunder.

BAWSY.
May I be jyb'd by great and sma',
And kytch'd like ony Tenis Ba',
Be the Disgrace of a' my Kin,
If e'er I with my Bonnet twin.

BARD.
Now soon as each had gi'en his Aith,
The Auld Man yielded up his Breath,
Was row'd in Linnen white as Snaw,
And to his Fathers born awa.
But scarcely he in Mools was rotten
Before his Testment was forgotten,
As ye shall hear frae future Sonnet,
How Joukum sinder'd with his Bonnet,
And bought frae's senseless Billy Bawsy,
His to propine a giglet Lassy,
While worthy Bristle, not sae doner'd,
Preserves his Bonnet and is honour'd.
Thus Caractacus did behave,
Tho' by the Fate of War a Slave;
His Body only,—for his Mind
No Roman Power could break or bend.
With Bonnet on he bauldly spake,
His Greatness gart his Fetters crack.
The Victor did his Friendship claim,
And sent him with new Glories hame.
But leave we Birss and Similie,
And to our Tale with Ardour flee.
Beyond the Hills where lang the Billies
Had bred up Queys and Kids and Fillies,
And foughten mony a bloody Battle,
With Thieves that came to lift their Cattle,
There liv'd a Lass kept Rary-shows,
And Fidlers ay about her House,
Wha at her Table fed, and ranted
With the stout Ale she never wanted.
She was a winsome Wench and waly,
And cou'd put on her Claiths fu' brawly;
Rumbled to ilka Market Town,
And drink and feight like a Dragoon:
Just sic as her wha far aff wander'd
To get her sell well Alexander'd.
Rose had a Word of meikle Siller,
Whilk brought a hantla Woers till her.
Amang the Rest young Master Jouk
She conquer'd ae Day with a Look;
Frae that Time forth he ne'er cou'd stay
At Hame to mind his Corn or Hay,
But grew a Beau, and did adorn
Himself with Fifty Bows of Corn,
Forby what he took on, to rigg
Him out with Linnings, Shoon and Wig,
Snuff-boxes, Sword-knots, Canes and Washes,
And Sweeties to bestow on Lasses,
Cou'd newest Aiths genteely swear,
And had a Course of Flaws perquire:
He drank and danc'd, and sigh'd to move
Fair Rosie to accept his Love.
After dumb Sings he thus began,
And spake his Mind to 'er like a Man.

JOUKUM.
O tack me Rosie to your Arms,
And let me revel o'er your Charms;
If ye say na, I needna care
For Rapes or Tethers made of Hair,
Penknives or Pools I winna need,
That Minute ye say na, I'm dead.
O let me ly within ye'r Breast,
And at your dainty Table feast;
Well do I like your Gowd to finger,
And sit to hear your Staneless Singer,
While on this Sun-side o' the Brae,
Belangs to you, my Limbs I lay.

ROSIE.
I own, sweet Sir, ye woo me frankly,
But a' your Courtship sars sae rankly
Of selfish Interest, that I'm fleed
My Person least imploys your Head.

JOUKUM.
What a Distinction that's you're making,
When your poor Lover's Heart is breaking?
With little Logick I can shew,
That every Thing you have is you;
Beside the Beauties of your Person,
These Beds of Flowers ye set your A--- on,
Your Claiths, your Lands, and lying Pelf,
Are ev'ry ane your very self,
And add fresh Lustre to those Graces
With which addorn'd your Saul and Face is,

ROSIE.
Ye seem to have a loving Flame
For me, and hate your native Hame;
That gars me ergh to trust ye meikle,
For fear ye shou'd prove fause and fikle.

JOUKUM.
In Troth my rugged Billy Bristle,
About his Gentries makes sic fistle,
That if a Body contradict him,
He's ready with a Durk to stick him;
That wearies me of hame I vow,
And fain wad live and die with you.

BARD.
Observing Jouk a wee Tate tipsy,
Smirking, reply'd the pauky Gypsie.

ROSIE.
I wad be very wae to see
My Lover tack the Pet and die;
Wherefore I am inclin'd to ease ye,
And do what in me lies to please ye:
But first, e'er we conclude the Paction,
You must perform some gallant Action,
To prove the Truth of what you've said,
Else I for you shall die a Maid.

JOUKUM.
My dearest Jewel gie't a Name,
That I may win baith you and Fame:
Shall I gae feight with Forrest Bulls,
Or cleave down Troops with thicker Sculls?
Or shall I dowk the deepest Sea,
And Coral pou for Beads to thee?
Penty the Pope upon the Nose,
Or pish upon a hundred Beaus?

ROSIE.
In Trouth, dear Lad, I wad be laith,
To risk your Life or do you Skaith,
Only imploy your canny Skill
To gain and rive your Father's Will,
With the Consent of Birss and Bawsy,
And I shall in my Bosom hawse ye,
Soon as the fatal Bonnets three
Are tane frae them and gi'en to me.

JOUKUM.
Which to preserve I gied my Aith,
But now the Case is Life and Death,
I must, or with the Bonnets part,
Or twin with you and break my Heart:
Sae tho the Aith we took was awfu',
To keep it now appears unlawfu':
Then, Love, I'll answer thy Demands,
And fly to fetch them to your Hands.

BARD.
The famous Jilt of Palastine,
Thus drew the Howks o'er Sampson's Een,
And gart him tell where lay his Strength,
Of which she twin'd him at the Length,
Then gied him up in Chains to rave,
And labour like a Galley Slave:
But Rosie, mind, when growing Hair
His Loss of Pith 'gan to repair,
He made of Thousands an Example,
By crushing them beneath their Temple.

CANTO II.

BARD.
The Supper Sowin-Cogs and Bannocks
Stood cooling on the Soles of Winnocks,
And cracking at the westlin Gavels
Auld Wives sat beeking of their Navels,
When Jouk his Brither Bristle found,
Fetching his Evening Wauk around
A Score of Ploughmen of his ain,
Who blythly whistled on the Plain.
Jouk three Times congeed, Bristle anes,
Then shook his Hand, and thus begins.

BRISTLE.
Wow, Brither Jouk, where hae ye been!
I scarce can trow my looking Een,
Ye'r grown sae braw; now Wierds defend me,
Gin that I hadna 'maist miskend ye.
And where gat ye that braw blew Stringing
That's at your Houghs and Shouders hinging?
Ye look as sprush as ane that's wooing,
I ferly, Lad, what ye've been doing.

JOUKUM.
My very much respected Brither,
Should we hide ought frae ane anither,
And not, when warm'd with the same Blood,
Consult ilk ane anithers good;
And be it kend t'ye my Design
Will Profit prove to me and mine.

BRISTLE.
And, Brither, Trouth it much commends
Your Virtue thus to love your Friends;
It makes me blyth, for aft I said
Ye was a clever mettl'd Lad.

JOUKUM.
And sae, I hope, will ever prove,
If ye befriend me in my Love:
For Rosie, bonny, rich and gay,
And sweet as Flowers in June or May,
Her Gear I'll get, her Sweets I'll rifle,
If ye'll but yield me up a Trifle.
Promise to do't, and ye'se be free
With ony Thing pertains to me.

BRISTLE.
I lang to answer your Demand,
And never shall for Trifles stand.

JOUKUM.
Then she desires as a Propine
These Bonnets Bawsy's Yours and Mine;
And well I wat that's nae great Matter,
If I sae easily can get her.

BRISTLE.
Ha, ha! ye Judas, are ye there,
The D--- then nor she ne'er get mair.
Is that the Trifle that ye spoke of!
Wha think ye, Sir, ye make a Mock of?
Ye silly mansworn Scant-of-Grace,
Swith, let me never see your Face.
Seek my auld Bonnet aff my Head!
Faith that's a bonny ane indeed!
Require a Thing I'll part with never,
She's get as soon the Lap o'my Liver.
Vile Whore and Jad, the Woody hang her.

BARD.
This said, he said nae mair for Anger,
But curs'd and ban'd, and was na far
Frae treding Jouk amang the Glar.
While Jouk with Language glibe as Oolie,
Right pawkily kept aff a Toolie,
Well masked with a Wedder's Skin,
Altho he was a Tod within.
He hum'd and hae'd, and with a Cant
Held forth as he had been a Saint,
And quoted Texts to prove we'd better
Part with a sma' Thing for a greater.

JOUK.
Ah Brither! may the Furies rack me,
If I mean'd ill, but ye mistak me:
But gin your Bonnet's sick a Jewel,
Pray gie't or keep it, Sir, as you will,
Since your auld fashion'd Fancy rather
Inclines till't than a Hat and Feather.
But I'll go try my Brither Bawsy,
Poor Man, he's nae sae daft and sawsy,
With empty Pride to crook his Mou,
And hinder his ain good like you;
If him and me agree, ne'er doubt ye,
We'll mak the Bargain up without ye;
Syne your braw Bonnet and your Nodle
Will hardly baith be worth a Bodle.

BARD.
At this bauld Bristle's Colour chang'd,
He swore on Rose to be reveng'd;
For he began now to be flied
She'd wile the Honours frae his Head.
Syne with a stern and cankard Look
He thus reprov'd his Brother Jouk.

BRISTLE.
Thou vile Disgrace of our Forbeers,
Wha lang with valiant Dint of Weirs,
Maintain'd their Rights 'gainst a' Intrusions
Of our auld Faes the Rosycrucians,
Do'st thou design at last to catch
Us in a Girn with this base Match,
And for the hading up thy Pride,
Upon thy Breether's Riggings ride?
I'll see you hang'd and her thegither,
As high as Haman in a Tether,
E'er I with my ain Bonnet quat,
For ony borrow'd Beaver-Hat,
Whilk I, as Rosie takes the Fikes,
Maun wear, or no, just as she likes:
Then let me hear nae mair about her,
For if again ye dare to mutter
Sic vile Proposals in my Hearing,
Ye needna trust to my forbearing;
For soon my Beard will tak a Low,
And I shall crack your crazy Pow.

BARD.
This said, brave Bristle said nae mair,
But cock'd his Bonnet with an Air,
Wheel'd round with glooming Brows and muddy,
And left his Brither in a Study.

CANTO III

BARD.
Now Sol with his lang Whip gae Cracks
Upon his nighering Coosers Backs,
To gar them tak th'Olympian Brae,
With a Cart-Laid of bleezing Day;
The Country Hynd ceases to snore,
Bangs frae his Bed unlocks the Door,
His Bladder tooms, and gi'es a Rift,
Then tentily surveys the Lift,
And weary'd of his Wife and Fleas,
To their Embrace prefers his Claiths.
Scarce had the Lark forsook his Nest,
When Jouk wha had got little Rest
For thinking on his Plot and Lassie,
Gat up to gang and deal with Bawsie;
Away fast o'er the Bent he gade,
And fand him dozing in his Bed,
His Blankets crishy, foul his Sark,
His Courtains trim'd with Spiders Wark;
Soot Draps hang frae his Roof and Kiples,
His Floor was a' Tobacco Spitles;
Yet on the Antlets of a Deer
Hang mony a Claimore and Spear,
With Coat of Iron and Target trusty,
Inch thick of Dirt and unco rusty;
Enough appear'd to shaw his Billy
That he was lazy, poor and silly,
And wadna make sae great a Bustle
About his Bonnet as did Bristle.
Jouk three Times rugged at his Shouder,
Cry'd three Times laigh and three Times louder;
At Langrun Bawsy kare'd his Een,
And crys, Wha's that? What do you mean?
Then looking up he sees his Brither.

BAWSY.
Good Morrow Jouk what brings ye hither,
You're early up,—as I'm a Sinner
I seenle rise before my Dinner:
Well what's ye'r News, and how gaes a'?
Ye've been an unko Time awa.

JOUKUM.
Bawsy, I'm blyth to see you well,
For me, thank GOD, I keep my Heal:
Get up, get up, ye lazy Mart,
I have a Secret to impart,
Of which when I give you an Inkling,
It will set baith your Lugs a tinkling.

BARD.
Straight Bawsy rises, quickly dresses,
While Haste his youky Mind expresses:
Now rigg'd, and Morning-Drink brought in,
Thus did slee-gabet Jouk begin.

JOUKUM.
My worthy Brither, well I wate
O'er feckless is your wee Estate,
For sic a mickle Saul as yours,
That to Things greater higher towrs;
But ye ly loitering here at hame,
Neglectfu' baith of Wealth and Fame,
Tho', as I said, ye have a Mind
That is for higher Things design'd.

BAWSY.
That's very true, thanks to the Skies,
But how to get them there it lies.

JOUKUM.
I'll tell ye Baws,—I've laid a Plot,
That only wants your casting Vote,
And if you'll gie't, your Bread is baken;
But first accept of this Love Taken;
Here take this Gowd, and never want
Enough to gar you drink and rant;
And this is but an Arle-penny
To what I afterward design ye;
And in return I'm sure that I
Shall naithing seek that ye'll deny.

BAWSY.
And Trouth now Jouk and neither will I,
Or after never ca' me Billy;
If I refuse Wae light upon me,
This Gowd, O wow! 'tis wonder bonny.

JOUKUM.

BAWSY.
O gosh! O gosh! Then, Jouk, have at her,
If that be a' 'tis nae great Matter.

JOUKUM.
These granted, she demands nae mair
To let us in her Riches skair;
Nor shall our Herds as heretofore,
Rin aff with ane anither's Store,
Nor ding out ane anither's Harns,
When they forgether amang the Karns;
But freely may drive up and down,
And sell in ilka Market Town
Belongs to Her,—which soon ye'll see,
If ye be wise, belang to me;
And when that happy Day shall come,
My honest Bawsy there's my Thumb,
That while I breath I'll ne'er beguile ye,
Ye'se baith get Gowd and be a Bailly.

BAWSY.
Faith, Jouk, I see but little Skaith
In breaking of a senseless Aith,
That is impos'd by doited Dads,
(To please their Whims) on thoughtless Lads.
My Bonnet! welcome to my Bonnet,
And meikle good may ye mak on it.
Our Father's Will, I'se make nae Din,
Tho Rosie shou'd apply't behin.
But say, does Billy Bristle ken
This your Design to make us Men?

JOUKUM.
Ay that he does, but the stiff Ass
Bears a Heart-hatred at the Lass,
And rattles out a hantla Stories
Of Blood and Dirt and antient Glories,
Meaning fool Feuds that us'd to be
Between ours and her Family;
Bans like a Blockhead that he'll ne'er
Twin with his Bonnet for a'er Gear;
But you and I conjoyn'd can ding him,
And, by a Vote, to Reason bring him:
If we stand closs, 'tis unko eith
To rive the Test'ment spite o's Teeth,
And gar him ply, for a' his Clavers,
To lift his Bonnet to our Beavers.

BAWSY.
Then let the Doof delight in drudging;
What Cause have we to tent his grudging?
Tho' Rosie's Flocks feed on his Fells,
If you and I be well our sells.

BARD.

CANTO IV.

BARD.
Now soon as e'er the Will was torn,
Jouk, with twa Bonnets on the Morn,
Frae Fairyland fast bang'd away,
The Prize at Rosie's Feet to lay;
Wha sleely when he did appear,
About his Success 'gan to speer.

JOUKUM.
Here, bonny Lass, your humble Slave
Presents you with the Things ye crave,
The riven Will and Bonnets twa,
Which makes the Third worth nought ava.
Our Power gi'en up, now I demand
Your promis'd Love, and eke your Hand.

BARD.
Rose smil'd to see the Lad outwitted,
And Bonnets to the Flames committed.
Immediately an awfu' Sound,
As ane wad thought, raise frae the Ground;
And syne appear'd a stalwart Ghaist,
Whase stern and angry Looks amaist
Unhool'd their Sauls,—shaking, they saw
Him frae the Fire the Bonnets draw:
Then came to Jouk, and, with twa Drugs,
Encreas'd the Length of baith his Lugs;
And said,

GHAIST.
Be a' thy days an Ass,
And Hackney to this cunning Lass:
But for these Bonnets, I'll preserve them,
For Bairns unborn, that will deserve them.

BARD.
With that he vanished'd frae their Een,
And left poor Jouk wi' Breeks not clean,
He shakes while Rosie rants and capours,
And ca's the Vision nought but Vapours;
Rubs o'er his Cheeks and Gab wi' Reem,
Till he believes't to be a Dream:
Syne to her Closet leads the Way,
To soup him up with Usquabae.

ROSIE.
Now, bonny Lad, ye may be free
To handle ought pertains to me;
And e'er the Sun, tho' he be dry,
Has driven down the Westlin Sky,
To drink his Wamefu' of the Sea,
There's be but ane of you and me.
In Marriage ye shall hae my Hand;
But I maun hae the sole Command
In Fairyland to saw and plant,
And to send there for ought I want.

BARD.
Ay, ay, crys Jouk, all in a Fire,
And stiff'ning into strong Desire.

JOUKUM.
Come hast thee, let us sign and seal;
And let my Billies gae to the D---.

BARD.

BRISTLE.
Vile Slave to a Hissy, ill begotten,
By many Dads, with Claps half rotten.
Were't no for Honour of my Mither,
I shou'd na think ye were my Brither.

JOUKUM.
Dear Brither, why this rude Reflection?
Learn to be gratefu' for Protection;
The Peterenians, Bloody Beasts,
That gar Fowk lik the Dowps of Priests
Else on a Brander, like a Haddock,
Be broolied, sprowling, like a Padock.
These Monsters, lang or now had come
With Faggots, Taz, and Tuck o' Drum,
And twin'd you of your Wealth and Lives
Syne, without speering, m--- your Wives,
Had not the Rosicrucians stood
The Bulwarks of your Rights and Blood;
And yet, forsooth, ye girn and grumble,
And, with a Gab unthankfu', mumble
Out mony a black unworthy Curse,
When Rosie bids ye draw your Purse;
When she's sae generously content
With not aboon Thirty per Cent.

BRISTLE.
Damn you and her! tho' now I'm blae
I'm hopefu' yet to see the Day,
I'll gar ye baith repent that e'er
Ye reav'd by Force, away, my Gear
Without, or Thanks, or making Price,
Or ever speering my Advice

JOUKUM.
Peace Gowk, we naithing do at a',
But by the Letter of the Law:
Then nae mair with your Din torment us,
Gowling like ane non compos mentis,
Else Rosie issue may a Writ,
To ty ye up baith Hand and Fit,
And dungeon ye, but Meat or Drink,
Till ye be starv'd, and die in Stink.

BARD.

BEEF.
—Mest Jouk is bisy.

BAWSY.
My Lady Rose is she at Leasure?

BEEF.
No, Sir, my Lady's at her Pleasure.

BAWSY.
I wait for Her or Him, go shew;

BEEF.
And pray ye, Master, wha are you?

BAWSY.
Upo' my Saul this Porter's sawsy;
Sirra, go tell my Name is Bawsy,
Their Brither wha made up the Marriage.

BEEF.
And sae I thought by your daft Carriage.
Between your Houghs gae clap your Gelding,
Swith hame and feast upon a Spelding,
For there's nae Room beneath this Roof
To entertain a simple Coof,
The like of you that nane can trust,
Wha to your ain have been unjust.

BARD.

From Fables and Tales [1722]

Bag-pipes no Musick:

A SATYRE on Scots Poetry. An Epistle to Mr. STANHOPE.

As Dryden justly term'd Poetick Sound,
A pacing Pegasus on Carpet G[r]ound,
Roscommon's nervous Sense your Verses yield
A Courser bounding o'er the furrow'd Field:
The Track pursue,—that thinking Scots may see
The comprehensive English Energy.
Scotch Moggy may go down at Aberdeen,
Where Bonnets, Bag-pipers, and Plaids are seen;
But such poor Gear no Harmony can sute,
Much fitter for a Jew's Trump than a Lute.
Low Bells, not Lyres, the Highland Cliffs adorn,
Macklean's loud halloo, or Mackgregor's Horn.
Sooner shall China yield to Earthen Ware,
Sooner shall Abel teach a singing Bear,
Than English Bards let Scots torment the'r Ear.
Who think their rustick Jargon to explain,
For anes is once, lang, long, and two is twain,
Let them to Edinburgh foot it back,
And add their Poetry to fill their Pack,
While you the Fav'rite of the tuneful Nine,
Make English Deeds in English Numbers shine.
Leave Ramsay's Clan to follow their own Ways,
And while they mumble Thistles, wear the Bays.

Grubstreet nae Satyre.

In Answer to Bagpipes no Musick. An Epistle to the Umquhile John Cowper, late Kirk-Treasurer's Man of Edinburgh; now his Ghaist studying Poetry at Oxford, for the Benefit of E. Curl.

From The British Journal: March 9, 1723

Translation of the Aeneid, X, 693–6.

Firm as the Bass when thund'ring Tempests roar,
And furious Waves come cracking on its Sides,
While Hills inferior sink upon the Shore,
It in its height and strong Foundation prides.
Such is the Man whose Godlike Spirit rises
Amidst a Hurricane of Wayward Fate,
He stands immov'd, while his brave Soul despises
Those Shocks of Chance which Makes the Vulgar fret.

From The Tea-Table Miscellany [1724–29]

DEDICATION

[TO Ilka lovely British Lass]

Dear Lasses,

A Scots Cantata

The TOAST.

A South-Sea Sang.

Hap me with thy Petticoat.

Fy gar rub her o'er wi' Strae.

Gin ye meet a bonny Lassie,
Gie 'er a Kiss and let her gae,
But if ye meet a dirty Hussy,
Fy gar rub her o'er wi' Strae.

[_]

[The rest is, with slight differences of spelling and punctuation, identical with lines 33–60 of To the Ph--- an Ode (S.T.S., Vol. I, pp. 224–225).]

THE CORDIAL

He.
Where wad bonny Ann ly,
Alane nae mair ye maun ly;
Wad ye a Good-man try?
Is that the Thing ye're laking?

She.
Can a Lass sae young as I,
Venture on the Bridal-Tye,
Syne down with a Good-man lye?
I'm fleed he keep me waking.

He.
Never judge until ye try,
Mak me your Goodman, I
Shanna hinder you to ly,
And sleep till ye be weary.

She.
What if I shou'd waking ly
When the Hoboys are gawn by,
Will ye tent me when I cry,
My Dear, I'm faint and iry?

He.
In my Bosom thou shall ly,
When thou wakrife art or dry,
Healthy Cordial standing by,
Shall presently revive thee.

She.
To your Will I then comply,
Join us, Priest, and let me try
How I'll wi' a Goodman ly,
Wha can a Cordial give me.

ALLAN-WATER:

Or, My Love Annie's very bonny.

To L. M. M.

This is not mine ain House.

My Dady forbad, my Minny forbad.

[O steer her up, and had her gawn]

Clout the Caldron.

The Malt-Man.

Bonny BESSY.

The Quadruple Alliance.

The Complaint

To B. I. G.

The young Lass contra auld Man.

SONG

[Up Stairs, down Stairs]

Sleepy Body, drowsy Body.

SONG

[Busk ye, busk ye, my bony Bride]

To the tune of

The Highland Lassie.

The Auld Man's Best Argument.

SONG

[I have a green Purse and a wee pickle Gowd]

On the Marriage of the R. H. L. G--- and L. K--- C---.

A SONG

Brigantius.
Now all thy Virgin-sweets are mine,
And all the shining Charms, that grace thee;
My fair Melinda come recline
Upon my Breast, while I embrace thee,
And tell without dissembling Art,
My happy Raptures in thy Bosom:
Thus will I plant within thy Heart,
A Love that shall for ever blossom.

Chorus.
O the happy, happy, brave and bonny,
Sure the Gods well pleas'd behold ye;
Their work admire, so great, so fair,
And well in all your Joys uphold ye.

Melinda.
No more I blush, now that I'm thine,
To own my Love in Transport tender,
Since that so brave a Man is mine,
To my Brigantius I surrender.
By sacred Ties I'm now to move
As thy exalted Thoughts direct me;
And while my Smiles engage thy Love,
Thy manly Greatness shall protect me.

Chorus.
O the happy, &c.

Brigantius.
Soft fall thy Words, like Morning-dew,
New Life on blowing Flowers bestowing:
Thus kindly yielding makes me bow
To Heaven, with Spirit grateful glowing.
My Honour, Courage, Wealth and Wit,
Thou dear Delight, my chiefest Treasure,
Shall be imployd as thou thinks fit,
As Agents for our Love and Pleasure.

Chorus.
O the happy, &c.

Melinda
With my Brigantius I could live
In lovely Cotts, beside a Mountain,
And Nature's easy Wants relieve,
With Shepherds Fare, and quaff the Fountain,
What pleases thee, the rural Grove,
Or Congress of the Fair and Witty,
Shall give me Pleasure with thy Love,
In Plains retir'd or social City.

Chorus.
O the happy, &c.

Brigantius.
How sweetly canst thou charm my Soul,
O lovely Sum of my Desires!
Thy Beauties all my Cares controul,
Thy Virtue all that's Good inspires.
Tune every Instrument of Sound,
Which all the Mind divinely raises,
Till every Height and Dale rebounds,
Both loud and sweet, my Darling's Praises.

Chorus.
O the happy, &c.

Melinda.
Thy Love gives me the brightest Shine,
My Happiness is now completed,
Since all that's generous, great and fine,
In my Brigantius is united;
For which I'll study thy Delight,
With kindly Tale the Time beguiling,
And round the Change of Day and Night;
Fix throughout Life a constant smiling.

Chorus.
O the happy, &c.

Jenny Nettles.

For the Sake of Some-body.

She.
Bony Lad, I carena by,
Tho' I try my Luck with thee,
Since ye are content to tye
The Haff-mark Bridal Band wi' me;
I'll slip hame and wash my Feet,
And steal on Linnings fair and clean,
Syne at the trysting Place we'll meet,
To do but what my Dame has done.

He.
Now my lovely Betty gives
Consent in sic a heartsome Gate,
It me frae a' my Care relieves,
And Doubts that gart me aft look blate:
Then let us gang and get the Grace,
For they that have an Apetite
Shou'd eat:—And Lovers shou'd embrace;
If these be Faults, 'tis Nature's Wyte.

THE GENEROUS GENTLEMAN.

The Cock Laird

SONGS INSERTED IN THE GENTLE SHEPHERD [1725–34]

SANG I. The wawking of the Faulds

SANG II. Fy gar rub her o'er with Strae

SANG III. Polwart on the Green.

The dorty will repent,
If lover's heart grow cauld,
And nane her smiles will tent,
Soon as her face looks auld:
The dawted bairn thus takes the pet,
Nor eats, tho' hunger crave,
Whimpers and tarrows at its meat,
And's laught at by the lave,
They jest it till the dinner's past,
Thus by it sell abus'd,
The fool thing is oblig'd to fast,
Or eat what they've refus'd.

SANG IV. O dear Mother, what shall I do?

O dear Peggy love's beguiling,
We ought not to trust his smiling.
Better far to do as I do,
Lest a harder luck betyde you.
Lasses when their fancy's carried,
Think of nought but to be married;
Running to a life destroys
Heartsome, free, and youthfu' joys.

SANG V. How can I be sad on my Wedding-Day.

How shall I be sad when a husband I hae,
That has better sense than any of thae
Sour weal silly fellows, that study like fools
To sink their ain joy, and make their wives snools.
The man who is prudent ne'er lightlies his wife,
Or with dull reproaches encourages strife;
He praises her virtues, and ne'er will abuse
Her for a small failing, but find an excuse.

SANG VI. Nansy's to the Green Wood gane.

I yield, dear lassie, you have won,
And there is nae denying,
That sure as light flows frae the Sun,
Frae love proceeds complying;
For a' that we can do or say,
'Gainst love nae thinker heeds us,
They ken our bosoms lodge the fae,
That by the heart-strings leads us.

SANG VII. Cald Kale in Aberdeen

Cauld be the rebel's cast,
Oppressors base and bloody,
I hope we'll see them at the last
Strung a' up in a woody.
Blest be he of worth and sense,
And ever high his station,
That bravely stands in the defence
Of conscience, king and nation.

SANG VIII. Mucking of Geordy's Byer.

The laird who in riches and honour
Wad thrive, should be kindly and free,
Nor rack the poor tenants, who labour
To rise aboon poverty:
Else like the pack horse that's unfother'd
And burden'd, will tumble down faint;
Thus virtue by hardship is smother'd,
And rackers aft tine their rent.

SANG X. Winter was cauld, and my Cleathing was thin.

PEGGY.
When first my dear laddie gade to the green hill,
And I at ew-milking first seyd my young skill,
To bear the milk-bowie, nae pain was to me,
When I at the bughting forgather'd with thee.

PATIE.
When corn-riggs wav'd yellow, and blew hether-bells
Bloom'd bonny on moorland and sweet rising fells,
Nae birns, brier, or breckens, gave trouble to me,
If I found the berries right ripen'd for thee.

PEGGY.
When thou ran, or wrestled, or putted the stane,
And came aff the victor, my heart was ay fain:
Thy ilka sport manly, gave pleasure to me;
For nane can put, wrestle or run swift as thee.

PATIE.
Our Jenny sings saftly the Cowden Broom-Knows,
And Rosie lilts sweetly the milking the ews;
There's few Jenny Nettles like Nansy can sing,
At throw the wood laddie, Bess gars our lugs ring:
But when my dear Peggy sings with better skill,
The boat-man, tweed-side, or the lass of the mill,
'Tis many times sweeter and pleasing to me;
For tho' they sing nicely, they cannot like thee.

PEGGY.
How easy can lasses trow what they desire?
And praises sae kindly increases love's fire;
Give me still this pleasure, my study shall be
To make my self better and sweeter for thee.

SANG XII. Happy Clown

SANG XIII. Leith-Wynd.

[JENNY]
Were I assur'd you'll constant prove,
You should nae mair complain,
The easy maid beset with love,
Few words will quickly gain;
For I must own, now since you're free,
This too fond heart of mine
Has lang, a black-sole true to thee,
Wish'd to be pair'd with thine.

ROGER
I'm happy now, ah! let my head
Upon thy breast recline;
The pleasure strikes me near-hand dead!
Is Jenny then sae kind?—
O let me briss thee to my heart!
And round my arms entwine:
Delytful thought; we'll never part!
Come press thy mouth to mine.

SANG XIV. O'er Bogie.

SANG XV. Wat ye wha I met Yestreen.

Now from rusticity, and love,
Whose flames but over lowly burn
My gentle shepherd must be drove,
His soul must take another turn:
As the rough diamond from the mine,
In breakings only shews its light.
'Till polishing has made it shine,
Thus learning makes the genius bright.

SANG XVI. Kirk wad let me be.

Duty and part of reason,
Plead strong on the parents side,
Which love superior calls treason;
The strongest must be obey'd:
For now tho' I'm one of the gentry,
My constancy falshood repells;
For change in my heart is no entry,
Still there my dear Peggy excells.

SANG XVII. Woes my heart that we shou'd sunder.

SANG XVIII. Tweed-side.

SANG XIX. Bush aboon Traquair.

SANG XX. Bony gray ey'd Morn.

From The Tea-Table Miscellany [1729]

On our Ladies being dressed in SCOTS Manufactory at a publick Assembly.

A SONG

From The Evergreen [1724]

THE VISION

Compylit in Latin be a most lernit Clerk in Tyme of our Hairship and Oppression, anno 1300, and translatit in 1524.

THE Eagle and Robin Red-breist

The Prince of all the fethert Kynd,
That with spred Wings out fleis the Wind,
And tours far out of humane Sicht
To view the schynand Orb of Licht:
This Ryall Bird, tho braif and great,
And armit strang for stern Debait,
Nae Tyrant is but condescends
Aftymes to treit inferiour Friends.
Ane Day at his Command did flock
To his hie Palace on a Rock,
The Courtiers of ilk various Syze
That swiftly swim in Christal Skyis;
Thither the valiant Tersals doup,
And heir rapacious Corbies croup,
With greidy Gleds and slie Gormahs,
And dinsome Pyis and clatterin Daws;
Proud Pecocks, and a hundred mae,
Bruscht up thair Pens that solemn Day,
Bowd first submissive to my Lord,
Then tuke thair Places at his Borde.
Mein Tyme quhyle feisting on a Fawn,
And drinking Blude frae Lamies drawn,
A tunefull Robin trig and zung,
Hard by upon a Bour-tree sung.
He sang the Eagles Ryall Lyne,
His persing Ee and Richt divyne,
To sway out-owre the fetherit Thrang,
Quha dreid his martial Bill and sang:
His Flicht sublime, and Eild renewit,
His Mynd with Clemencie endewit;
In safter Notes he sang his Luve,
Mair hie his beiring Bolts for Jove.

POSTSCRIPT

AN ODE Sacred to the MEMORY Of Her Grace ANNE Dutchess of HAMILTON .

From Poems in English and Latin on the Archers and Royal Company of Archers [1726]

The POET'S Thanks to the ARCHERS, on being admitted into their Royal Company.

The ARCHERS March.

From The Caledonian Mercury: July 12, 1726.

A POEM ON THE ROYAL COMPANY OF ARCHERS

From Poems [1729]

The Callan and the Pig

Deep in a narrow craiged Pig
Lay mony a dainty Nut and Fig.
A greedy Callan, haf a Sot,
Shot his wee Nive into the Pot,
And thought to bring as mony out
As a' his Fangs cou'd gang about;
But the strait Neck o't wadna suffer
The Hand of this young foolish Truffer,
Sae struted, to return again,
Which gae the Gowkie nae sma' Pain.
He gowls to be sae disappointed,
And drugs till he has 'maist disjointed,
His Shekelbane.—Anither Lad
Stood by, wha some mair Judgment had,
Said, Billy, dinna grip at a',
And you with Ease, a Part may draw.
This same Advice, to Men I'd lend,
Ne'er for o'er much at anes contend,
But take the cannyest Gate to Ease,
And pike out Joys by Twa's and Three's.

The Man with the twa Wives.

In antient Tales, there is a Story,
Of ane had twa Wives, Whig and Tory.
The Carlie's Head, was now attir'd
With Hair, in equal Mixture, lyart.
His Wives (Faith an might well suffic'd)
Alternately was ay ill pleas'd;
They being reverse to ane another
In Age and Faith, made a curs'd Pother
Whilk of the twa shou'd bear the Bell,
And make their Man maist like themsell.
Auld Meg, the Tory, took great Care,
To weed out ilka Sable Hair,
Plucking out all that look'd like Youth,
Frae Crown of Head, to Weeks of Mouth;
Saying, That baith in Head and Face
Antiquity was Mark of Grace.
But Bess, the Whig, a Raving Rump,
Took Figmaliries, and wald jump,
With Sword and Pistol, by her Side,
And Cock-a-stride arowing ride,
On the Hag-riden Sumph, and grapple
Him hard and fast about the Thraple;
And with her furious Fingers whirle,
Frae youthfu' Black ilk Silver Curle.
Thus was he serv'd between the twa,
'Till no ae Hair he had ava.

Fable of the Condemn'd Ass.

The Gods of Egypt

The Spectacles

Ae Day when Jove, the High Director,
Was merry o'er a Bowl of Nectar,
Resolv'd a Present to bestow,
On the Inhabitants below.
Momus, wha likes his Joke and Wine,
Was sent frae Heaven with the Propine:
Fast throw the Aether-fields he whirl'd
His rapid Car, and reach'd the Warld:
Conveen'd Mankind, and told them Jove
Had sent a Token of his Love,
Considering that they were short sighted,
That Faut shou'd presently be righted.
Syne loos'd his Wallet frae the Pillions,
And toss'd out Spectacles by Millions.
There were enow, and ilk an chose,
His Pair and cock'd them on his Nose:
And thankfully their Knees they bended
To Heaven, that thus their Sight had mended.
Streight Momus hameward took his Flight,
Laughing fou'd loud, as well he might.
For ye maun ken, 'tis but o'er true,
The Glasses were some Red, some Blue,
Some Black, some White, some Brown, some Green,
Which made the same Thing different seem.
Now all was wrong, and all was right,
For ilk believ'd his aided Sight,
And did the Joys of Truth partake,
In the absurdest gross Mistake.

The Fox turn'd Preacher

A THOUGHT

The Bee and the Fly

Before his Hive, a paughty Bee,
Observ'd a humble Midding Flie,
And proudly speer'd what brought her there,
And with what Front she durst repair,
Amang the Regents of the Air.
It sets ye well, the fly reply'd,
To quarrel with sic sawcy Pride.
Thay're daft indeed, has ought to do,
With thrawin Contentious Fowk like you.
Why, Scoundrel, you, return'd the Bee,
What Nation is sae wise as we?
Best Laws and Policy is ours,
And our Repast the fragrant Flowers.
No sordid nasty Trade we drive,
But with Sweet Honey fill the Hive;
Honey maist gratefu' to the Taste,
On which the Gods themsells may feast.
Out of my Sight, vile Wretch, whose Tongue
Is daily slacking throw the Dung:
Vile Spirits, filthily content
To feed on stinking Excrement.
The Fly replied, in sober Way,
Faith we maun live as well's we may:
Glad Poverty was ne'er a Vice,
But sure, ill-natur'd Passion is.
Your Honey's sweet; but then how tart,
And bitter's your malicious Heart!
In making Laws you copy Heaven,
But in your Conduct how uneven!
To fash at ony Time a Fae,
Ye'll never stick ye'r Sells to slae;
And skaith your sell mair sickerly,
Than e'er ye can your Enemy.
At that Rate, ane had better have
Less Talents, if they can behave
Discreet, and less their Passions slave.

The Horse's Complaint

The Parrat

The Eclipse

ANE EPISTLE to A. R.

On the Poverty of the Poets

ANSWER [To the foregoing Epistle]

SIR,

To Mr ALLAN RAMSAY, upon his publishing his second Volume of POEMS

To William Somervile, of Warwick-shire Esq

From The Echo, or Edinburgh Weekly Journal: 29th January, 1729

EPILOGUE Spoken After Acting The Orphan and The Gentle Shepherd in January 1729

PATIE
speaks

PATTIE
sings [to the Tune of Bessie Bell]
Thus let us study Night and Day,
to fit us for our Station,
That, when we're Men, we Parts may Play
are useful to our Nation;
For now's the Time, while we are Young,
to fix our Views on Merit,
Water its Buds, and make the Tongue
and Action sute the Spirit.

PEGGY
This all the Fair and Wise approve,
we know it by your Smiling,
And while we gain Respect and Love,
our Studies are not toiling.
Such Application gives Delight,
and in the End proves gainful,
What many a dark and lifeless Wight
thinks Labour hard and Painful.

Sir WILLIAM
Then never let us think our Time
and Care, when thus imployed,
Are thrown away; but deem't a Crime
when Youth's by Sloth destroyed.
'Tis only active Souls can rise
to Fame, and all that's splendid.
Still Favourites of these conquering Eyes,
'gainst whom no Heart's defended.

From The Scarborough Miscellany: 1732.

Verses by the celebrated ALLAN RAMSAY, to his Son.

On his drawing a fine Gentleman's Picture.

Young Painter, thy Attempt is fair,
And may'st thou finish with a Grace,
The happy Smile unmix'd with Care,
That ever shines in ------ Face.
So far thy Labour, well design'd,
May all thy outward Form display,
But Pencils cannot paint the Mind,
In this, to me, thou must give way.
With glowing Colours thou canst show,
Th'embroider'd Coat and nice Tupee:
Draw him a first Rate blazing Beau,
Easy and airy, gay and free.
But I can place him in a Light,
That will his higher Merits hit;
Display, what makes him much more bright,
His Courage, Learning, and his Wit.
His sprightly Humour, solid Sense,
And—but here further 'tis not meet,
I should his noted Worth advance,
Lest I be deem'd a Parasite.
Yet this let little Wou'd-be's know,
Who are but Apes of so much Fire;
'Tis the Philosopher, not Beau,
Who we deservedly admire.
Trifle, why not? with Cloaths and Air,
Sing, dance, and joke, whene'er ye please,
These oft our Joy and Health repair,
Acceptable, perform'd with Ease.
True Art and Nature must combine,
To combat human Cares so rife;
And rarely Characters can shine
So fair, as ------ in Life.

ADDRESS of Thanks from the Society of Rakes. [1735]

[_]

The full title is: An / Address of Thanks / From The / Society of Rakes, / To the pious Author of / An Essay upon improving and adding to / the Strength of Great Britain and Ire / land by Fornication . To which is added, / An Epistle to the said Author, by a / nother Hand.

We Noblemen, Barons and Burgesses of the foresaid Class, to the Reverend Philosark, Greeting.

EPISTLE to the Reverend Philosarchus Minister of the Kirk of Scotland, occasioned by his late Essay, proving the Lawfulness of FORNICATION.

From The Caledonian Mercury, August 2, 1736

LEITH RACES

From The Caledonian Mercury, November 8, 1736

PROLOGUE for the Opening of the New Theatre in Carrubber's Close, 8 Nov., 1736

Long has it been the Bus'ness of the Stage
To mend our Manners, and reform the Age.
This Task the Muse by Nature was assign'd,
E're Christian Light shone in upon the Mind;
Ev'n since those glorious Truths to Men appear'd,
Her moral Precepts still have been rever'd,
And where the sacred Monitors have fail'd,
Just Satyre from the Stage hath oft prevail'd.
Tho' some sour Criticks full of Phlegm and Spleen,
Condemn her Use as hellish and obscene;
And from their gloomy thoughts and want of Sense,
Think what diverts the Mind gives Heav'n Offence.
Would such from Truth and Reason form their Sample,
They'll find what's meant for Precept, what Example,
Nor think when Vice and Folly shall appear,
The Characters were drawn for them to wear.
Fools in their native Follies should be shown,
and Vice must have its Language to be known.
To such this Lesson then we recommend,
Let each mend one, the Stage will have its End,
Good Sense shall flourish, Reason triumphant reign,
And Hypocrites no more their Power Maintain;
The Muse shall once again resume her Throne,
And our Stage vie with Athens or with Rome.
Long in those Realms she held her rapid Flight,
Filling their Minds with Profit and Delight.
Till in despight of Sense, and wits Disgrace,
Dull Ignorance a while usurp'd her Place,
For many ages bore the Palm alone,
And wild Buffoons defil'd her sacred Throne.
But late at length she reach'd Britannia's Shore,
And Shakespear taught her once again to soar.
At last transplanted by your tender Care
She hopes to keep her Seat of Empire here.
To your Protection then ye Fair and Great,
This Fabrick to her Use we consecrate.
On you it will depend to raise her Name,
And in Edina fix her lasting Fame.

To the Honourable DUNCAN FORBES of Culloden, Lord President of the SESSION,

AND All our other Good JUDGES, who are careful of the Honour of the Government, and the Property of the Subject;

The Address of Allan Ramsay, Humbly means and shaws,

From The Scots Magazine, October, 1741

AN EPISTLE To James Oswald

II. PART II. Poems in manuscript or posthumously published.

(1) Poems for which dates can be assigned.

To the Most Happy Members of the Easy Club, 1712

On Andrew Brown Hanging Himself

A Rebuke to Antony Uneasy

Uneasy's a thief; 'tis black burning shame.
I'le flite his muse deaf, and blunder his name.
His muse, said I? Hang it! It must be damn'd lame—
She pilfer'd from Bion, the great son of fame.
Confess then ye'r dull and greatly to blame
To fancy our club so silly and tame
To be tricked by Ma(d)ge in the weeds of her dame.

THE LAMENTATION

9 Nov. 1715

George
Why drooping thus? Say, Gawin, what is the cause
That surly face dares break our Easy laws.

Gawin
These drumbly times do very much confound
My easy thinking and my judgement wound,
While grief and hope alternately go round.

George
Let wild confusions do the worst they can,
No accident shall crush the vertuous man;
Should jarring discord make all nature crack
And wasting wars make of this world a wrack,
No casual event can his peace controul,
He stands secure, fix'd on his lofty soul.

Gawin
Ah George, methinks it stupid not to moan—
Should we not sigh to hear our Mother groan
Now when her sides are tore with civil broils
And her brave blood in dreadful madness boils?
Her hardy sons, whose fame was heard afar,
Now 'gainst each other threaten cruel war.
They who spread terrour in the dusky plain
And, panting, trod o're mountains of the slain,
Who knew to dye much better than to yield
And still were slain, or victors kept the field—
Now must this daring courage all be spent
In quelling private feuds and discontent?
Degenerate age, say what can be the cause
To prompt such wrath as shocks all nature's laws.
'Gainst brother brother, father 'gainst the son,
Both seem resolv'd their party's risque to run,
To gain their end no danger seem to shun.
The kind emotions of a tender wife
Who, fainting, views her husband in the strife,
Dismay'd, she fears his slender tack of life.
But now nor wife nor infant charms can make
His strong resolves or inclinations shake
Tho both his life and fortune's at the stake.
He mounts his steed, nor her advice does ask
But sets his all upon the dreadful cast.
She's left alone and doubts of his return;
She loves the man and can not chuse but mourn,
Thus tryes to waste her grief by shedding tears
And by faint hopes to crush substantial fears.
Pacific hinds whose humble minds regard
No politicks beyond their barn and yard
Are forced to arms.
These tools of death they weild with awkward hand,
While ploughs on until'd ridg[e]s neglected stand.
They see destruction through the kingdom reel
And meagre famine treading on its heel
When frugal arts of peace are laid aside
To gratifie a dull schismatick pride.
These sure are ills, yet there are ten times more
Which every thinking Scotsmen should deplore.

George
They are, indeed. Yet often when disease
Does threaten death to give the patient ease,
From purple veins the lancet gives a pass
To that base blood which would defile the mass.
So may it hit.
I know the horrid cause for which we smart,
The black idea's rivet in my heart.
O may they only suffer by the rod
Who with this cursed crime offended God.

Gawin
So may it end as I would wish, and then
I'll change my airs and tune my reed again.

Both
Till then heav'd blast our foes and save true hearted men.

To the Right Honourable George, Lord Ramsay

To you my lord, my earlyest lays belong,
a Ramsay's Chief demands a Ramsay's song,
deemst not presumtion nor with scorn refuse
the humble Tribute of an honest muse.
In virteous days long 'ere the Romish priest
By Avarice made goodness seem a jest,
e're Clergy discord from Men's Bosoms drove
Nat'rule Simplicity, Social love,
The Bards of old the Heroes did inspire
with noble sentiments and Gen'rous fire,
sweet & sublime their happy numbers flow'd
and all arround a generall good Bestow'd.
The Brave and Great with Justice pant for fame
But often wander wide and miss their aim,
oft' best of Men their best Designs are Crost,
by want of Skill in Errour's Mazes lost,
But he who Studys Men and Books aright
Views Causes and Effects in their trew light,
when polite knowledge Litrature Refines
that patriot with uncommon luster shines.
Thus you, My Lord (fame sayst,—& fame says Truth)
Restore your usefull Time, and vig'rous Youth.
Well may you prosper in each Bright Desire
Still taking for your patern your Brave Sire
posest of all his prudence & his fire.
The thinking Man eyes his Ancestor's worth
preservs the Grandure of his house and Birth
and through the Golden Mien he wisely steers
Not cheated with vain Hopes nor Crush'd with fears.
By fortitude of mind he conquest gains
O're sordid pleasures and imagind pains
superior to the puny pleagues of Life
looks down on trifles which engender strife.
such a great Soul can destiny command
who holds his passions with a steady hand
Great in himself, he all his actions Rules
by virtue, and leavs pegeantry to fools
he scorns to cringe at courts or Blur his mind
with consent, when his countrey's fall's designd
But when plac'd at the Helm of state affairs
the publick good engroses all his Cares
How litle Fuscus looks how mean & vile
at him the sullen rail and jovial smile
an Empty Buble with a Vast Estate
design'd a slave, but by mistaken fate
thrown on a family to its disgrace
staining the honour'd glorys of his Race
without a thought from stew to stew he scours
and nothing minds but drunkeness and whoors
Now these fair ridges which his fathers won
wastes like the snow before the summer's sun,
thus he goes on, destroying life & health
and hangs a dead weight on the Commonwealth,
But soon of him the nation shall have ease,
a young old man all Rotten with desease!

THE HAPPY MAN

[To Mr. Jo. Kerr of King's College, Aberdeen]

ON THE MARRIAGE OF URBAN AND BELLA. JULY 10th, 1721.

Night now had spread her Gloom o'er all the Skies,
And Sleep had seal'd up every Guardian's Eyes;
When o'er the darken'd plain kind Urban stray'd;
With careful pace, to meet his faithful Maid,
But there's no wandring where true Love's the Guide,
Soon in his Arms he found his lovely Bride.
Ee'r yet the Morn had rais'd her rosy Head,
To cross the Waves the swelling Sails are spread,
Pleas'd Ocean smooth'd his Brow, the Winds blew fair,
And seemed to whisper doun each lesser Care;
When to his Bella Urban did impart,
In softest words th'emotions of his Heart.
My dearest charge (said he) drop every Care,
Let these be mine—they're now fall'n to my share,
Them I can bear—so Heav'n has well design'd,
Our Fortitude to shield your softer Mind,
Now you are mine so fate consents and You,
And to the join't consent each one must Bow;
Ev'n He who claims your Duty and your Love,
Since he is Wise, there's hopes he will approve,
Him gain'd we'll slight each medd'ling little Mind,
That to the Strength of Sympathy are blind;
Who think join't hands make Nuptial rites compleat
While Inclinations never chance to meet;
Then let no doubts of what the World may say,
Raise the least Cloud on our fair Marriage Day.
A Blushing Glance here serv'd for a reply,
And Urban read what pleas'd him in her Eye,
Which rais'd his Raptures, and forbade each pain,
That frights poor fools from Hymen's happy Chain;
The Chain which now with glad consent they bear,
And mutual Love shall make them easy wear.
No sooner had loud Fame with spreading Blast,
Giv'n out the News when each their verdict past,
At sullen Coffee—at the sparkling Wine,
Or the lov'd Circle where the Fair combine
To sip their Tea—I got this fair account
Which justly balanc'd, here is the amount;
Some envy'd—some their weaker Souls betray'd,
Believing what each low detracter said;
Such have nor Sense, nor Courage to Assert,
(Like Urban's self,) the Cause of wrong'd desert.
But these who dare to own their thoughts aloud
And wisely sep'rate from the thoughtless Croud,
Approv'd the Choice of both, since only Love,
Calls doun the Marriage Blessings from above,
Which to Old age may they enjoy profuse,
Is the kind wishes of an honest Muse.

To His Grace John Duke Of Roxburgh,

The Address of Allan Ramsay, S[cots] P[oet].

May it please your Grace

TO THE MEMORY OF MARY, DUCHESS DOWAGER OF BEAUFORT AND COUNTESS DOWAGER OF DUNDONALD

May

Lizie

[Colin]
Dear Lasses just is ilka tear ye shed
for her whas Bounty made us aft fou glad
whase sweetness wan the hearts of Great & Sma
while her strick virtues gart us stand in aw
sae at Sun whase chearing Beams we find
we darna Glowr for fear he make us Blind
But Lear to be content and thole yer pain
for we can neer behad her face again

Maya
'tis unco Easy to hardhearted men
to meet with Tinsell & neer let fouk ken
while we of safter minds sigh mony a day
or we can get the uperhand of wae
as Lang's I see a Lady sweet and fair
with keuly looks mix'd with a princly air
if sic there be with grief I'll ca to mind
the Blest Belinda Best of a' her kind

Lizi
when E'er I trade alang the Bony Green
where she at Ilka dance was chosen Queen
or by yon Burn where on the floury Brae
we usd to sport and see the Fishes play
a Thousand thoughts of her and Time that's gane
will sink my saul wi grief and ay renew my pain

May
now Day grows Langer and the welcome Spring
comes on apace the Birds begin to sing
the primrose Buds the Gowan knots appear
with a' the rising Beautys of the year
But no to me this seson Gay & fair
can joy restore or mitigate my Care
Belinda's Death ay in my mind will ring
and sour the saftest sweetness of the spring

Lizi
and Cease ye Lambs to Bleet—cease faling dews
Cease streams to murmur, Echo to repeat
Yes weep ye flock aloud that hills may hear
Be ilka chrystall pearl of Dew a tear
for dear Belinda streams for ever Murn
for her let Echo sigh[i]ng sad return
the Dolefu Tale—while we with grief relate
her goodnes[s] Beauty and oer hasty fate

Colin
But now frae ilka fear of Greef shes free
and tastes the fruit of th'Imortall Tree
But mind she's freed frae a' our cares & strife
and born aboon where endles joys are rife
wher never enters sorrow sighs or pain
sae for her Loss ye Greetna but your ain

May
Ah hasty Death to pou her in her prime
when eild it sell is but sae scrimp a time
Thousands there are less usefou here beneath
we could have spared for her and wi Lesser Skaith
her words were musick and her deeds wer kind
fair was [her] frame and generous was her mind
nae spitefou passion e'er coud find [a] place
within her Brest or Cloud her Lovely face
Descended frae a Chief yet free frae pride
she did with meekness a' her actions Guide

Lizi
not siller showers in drouth mair kindly fa
than wer her welcome favour to us a'

[Colin]
nor is my heart nae mair than yours of steel
yes I our tinsell as severly feell
But stranger Reason comes to take my part
while you less Guarded sink beneath the smart
then dry ye'r Cheeks—and learn ye to Behave
ye'r sells like her then shall your virtues crave
Love in your Life and honour in your Grave

MACARONIC

Nil mihi rescribus at aman ipse vene
For your kitle Latine, in conscience I dinna kent bene,
Sed video right mikle, quo tendit ad meum honorem;
Sic silvae saltantis when cantylie I play before 'em
On my landart lyra—Castalides omnia ambitious
Videre this ferly new—weel be't sae, benignus Patricus,
Accipio for granted tu cogitas quid thou hast dictus,
And blythsum audire my pow is cum laurel amictus.
Ago tibi gratias. When ye come to Senex Fumosus,
Spero to se ye where a botle of the best shall rejoyce us.

SILVIA TO A--- R---

O Ramsay Rare wha Blythly can
Revive the Heart of Maid or Man
if you a favour will bestow
upon a Lass tho' very Low
in Rhime she here addresses you
and craves you'll send her somthing new
flames Raptures darts and hearts on fire
are Subjects I dont much admire
The only Thing I'd wish to have
is Somthing Gay but nothing grave
this favour if you'll grant to me
I shal Respect you till I die

ANSWER Octr 1722

The Pleasures of Improv[e]ments in Agriculture

[Dedication]

[To the Duke of Queensberry]

Accept my Lord these honest Lays
that I have sowfd in Kathrines praise
and as they'r to her justly due
sae are a share of them to you
To you and to each noble mind
that waver not with ilka wind
Blaws frae the court like the slav'd Jouker
Wha sells good fame for filthy Lucre
while you and such as you my Lord
are by ilk gratefu heart adore'd
and well ye judge for alls a dream
without fair fame & Just esteem
which now are yours and still will prove
while Linton does his Nation love

A Pastoral Welcome To her Grace Cathrine Dutches of Queensbery on her coming first to Scotland June 1723

[To the Duchess of Queensberry]

Queensberys Come Thrice welcome Fair
Propitious Heavens peculiar care
it maun be sae els gifts divine
in saul and form coud never shine
in sic profusion bright & even
but in a favourite of Heven
Be blyth ye Lads on Nytha's dale
Lead out the Lasses to the Green
Blaw saft ye winds ye skyes be clear
Spring with thy flowers busk out the year.
Ye Clouds had aff the suns fair face
that he may bleez with blythsome grace
ye tunefu birds frae wild repair
and with saft musick fill the air
Queensbery comes. Guard her ye Gods
and with all pleasures pave her Roads
Nyth hears the news and blythly turns
around to all her crystal Burns
and bids them lilt oer Heugh & how
their Joys as frae their heights they flow
with gushing heart he lifts his Head
and tells it to his Brother Tweed
wha Echo'st fra his Banks sae wide
to Leader haughs & Teviots side
Clyd hears oer Tintock tap the din
and Roars it oer the Corhouse Lin
so loud its heard beyond the Tay
oer the still ness & Rapid Spay
The welcome Sound soughs throw the air
arround the Bush aboon Traquair
Fair flowing forth enriching Tide
auld Edinburghs Blessing and her Pride
in solem state Calms ilka wave
and Joyns in gladness with the Lave
and well he may wha kens hell share
with Nyth th'influence of the Pair
Queensberys Lord and his Fair mate
who dare be Noble to be great
while sauls hem'd in with scrimper views
slave out dull lives in scrapes & Bows
and stick at nought to reek their ends
sae far as their laigh sence extends
but like clung Tods worry bot reuth
whatever faus into their Mouth
and these scorn laits used lang sin syne
to tent laws Humane & divine
tho ilka hour damnation wait
to doom them their deserved fate
as they sail tween lifes craigs & shauls
unmindfu of their threed bare sauls
stand yont vile things ye make me sick
thus in your characters to keek
while I the praise of patriots sing
who love their Countrey God & King
The first twa slighted by your Tribes,
the Last respected as he Bribes
Ah coud the morall moral muse but win
ane of five score frae this curst sin
how Blyth shed be & ne'er repine
altho the deel gat ninty nine
But thanks to H--- there's some yet Great
wha will prove stoups to prop the State
But Thanks to Heaven their's a kind flow
whase hearts with publick ardure Glow
who have enough and strive to cure
the publick wounds that hurt the poor
by easing their half Broken Backs
of ilka ill placed heavy Tax
For This the honest Labouring kind
Shall lift to god his greatfu mind,
and he whas cast in Rougher form
dares push his fortune throw a storm
while Jarring tides [and] Tempests Gowll
will to the patriots Toom the Bowl
and bend his knee ilk even & morn
that sic as Queensbery were born
The Merchant with delighted view
his shelves with goods all loaden bow
while qu[i]ck returns of cash secure
his Trade & make his credit sure.
Mechanicks of all kinds shall sing
God bless our patriots and our King
who now haf gart thae dutys sink
that poisned a' our meat & drink
The Herd upon the green hill side
shall tent his bleeting care with pride
& count hou many ells do grow
of Claith ilk day on Goop & Ew
Reverse of servile sauls that stinge
at courts and to vile catifs cringe
Queensbery with superiour smile
Looks doun upon a nest so vile
whase Presence like the heavnly Ray
gives all arround a bleez of Day
while Independance props her state
being ever Good as she is Great
To patriots tune each chearfu note
and Queensbery be neer forgot

[Another Poem to the Duchess of Queensberry]

On the B[ritish] P[arliament's] design of Taking The Bounty off the Victual exported. Decemr 1724

Magy Dickson

[A Dedication for the Evergreen]

These Antient Bards with stronger gift of Sence
than cadence Smooth and florid Eloquence
with nature close Pursued in wheeling Rhyme
dispisers of vile trope & fals sublyme
to[o] Long neglected by a barbarous age
Distracted with Preist craft & Party rage
at Last appear and of your Lordships Clame
your kind Protection to defend their fame
their merit's just, but merit cannot save
one from the spite of evry snarling slave
Slaves to a vain conceit & empty Skull
who Judge still what they Relish not is dul
as if forsuthe their tast should be a Rule
I Love and I awow I love these Lays

SOME FEW OF THE CONTENTS [of The Evergreen]

[FRAGMENT OF AN EPISTLE]

Is their a condition
Included in your Late commission
That publick shoud be sae Respected
That private friends Maun be Neglected?
Or rather is't some Lovely She
That rivals Mony Mae than me?
If that's the case, then I knock under
And at your silence shall not wonder,
For that same little Godie Amor
Makes sic a hildiegildie clamour
Where eer he gets the uper hand
That ilk ane else maun silent stand.

Allan Ramsay Bard to the Royall Company July 13 1724

Apollo Patron of the Lyre
and of the valiant Archers Bow
Me with such sentiments inspire
as may appear from thee they flow
When by thy special will and dread Command
I sing the merits of the Royal Band

[The Men of Totness Town]

[A Poem to Mr. Drummond]

Scot worthy Scot when you departed
sunk daylie till quite Broken hearted
he dropd his clay to take his Place
amongst the Best of Adams Race
to Pass a sweet Eternity
in friendship Smiles, & Hermony
of this we'r sure, since souls that Love
goodness and Justice mount above
Yet Drummond Lives, Long be his yeares
his Pleasures many few his cares:
from principles of friendship kind
youre frequent in his Social Mind
wha Langs in Kenedys to meet ye
and prompts the willing muse t'invite ye
that Rarely fails good will to shew
when askd by such as Him or you
Tho oft in Pet she droops the wing
when frost and snaw are taking leave
and Pleasures on the Sward revive
and now the Archers' Bosoms Glow
and wear the Bonnet & Bend the Bow
your Presence at their council Board
or in the field will joy afford
our wines are Good in nought weer Scanty
and for diversions we have Plenty

[A Jacobite Poem]

Again the Royal Band in fair array

Health Joy and all that Makes Life easy flow
to the Brave Band that Bauldly Bend the Bow
Cease Gloomy Sauls to Snarl at Blythe deray
nor grudge the chearfu mind a Social day
Sigh oer your Trash vile Nigards & be Slaves
till you unpitied Starve into your Graves
Ye publick Rovers a' thats sonsy sell
to pang your pride your Bountith sure in H---
while honest minds unsourd with clogs sae vile
can cast their cares aside and sometimes smile
smile at each wretch with vice & spleen oprest
well kenning Life is but a farce at Best
Let heavy heads there solemn nonsence Brook
and ward aff freindship with a sullen Look
Tis yours ye Royal Band with Joy to trace
beneovolence in ane annithers face
Ladys demand & flowry field invite
The Scotish Archers on the Plains to meet
frindeship & generous Love that only give
the Bliss that makes it worth ones while to live
Let sounds melodious Echo throw the air
and free ilk hearty archer Banish care
meet every youth who tyes of friendship bind
let him be fremit-fled who lags behind
be deemd a creeping span[i]el of state
and be the Butt of Bonny lasses hate
But to ilk archer who in good array
helps to adorn the March and Gambols gay
May ilka Patriot be his friend & prope
and softest Beauty gratifie his hope
These are rewards that can make life flow even
only bestowd on favourites of Hevven
Hail to the patriot chiefs who Grace the Band
May they still brook as they deserve command
May still their publick generous thought d[i]fuse
a joy unkend to those who power abuse
to latest ages may their fame desend
and to esteem their offspring recomend
Let sounds melodious echoe throw the air
and far frae noble patriots banish care
Clarinda smiles Calista looks serene
in lovely state they press the flowry green
a Thousand Beautys coppy from the pair
and by the Imitation look more fair
O Best of Paterns may you ever shine
the Leading Stars of Graces maist devine
when springing Beautys yet in lovely Bud
shall act with grandure what is wise & good
not rightly understood by Cloudy wights
who cannot place things in their proper light
to grace whats just convincingly theyl say
Clarinda and Calista Led the way
Let sounds melodious Echo throw the air
and far frae Patriot Beauty Banish care
Let spareking Bumpers Blythl[e]y wheel arround
and with the Best & fairest Toasts be crownd
such healths as makes the honest heart to Glow
of every worthy Scot who draws the Bow
and scorns to act a damnd or dirty thing
against his countrey conscience and his King,
who can look doun with virtuous disdain
on sic as dar trock them baith for gain
Dear Clara too in whom the Graces meet
with amacordia every way complete
with charms divine awaking softest Love
adorn the field and the parade approve
stand yont vile Things you must not interfere
with their Just Joys to whom their rights are dear
Dear be his Nation to ilk Archers heart
so may just heaven pay hame his high desert
with sic rewards no canker can destroy
when thers no conscious guilt to sour his Joy

[To the Royal Company of Archers]

[A Marching Song]

[To a Gentleman in Ireland]

To my unknown Corospondent in Irland

On the Ever Green's being gathered out of this Manuscript By Allan Ramsay who had the Loan of it from the Honourable Mr William Carmichaell Advocat Brother german to the Earl of Hynford

[_]

LINES WRITTEN AT THE END OF THE BANNATYNE MANUSCRIPT

MOLLY MOG

ANSWER [TO LADY SOMERVILLE'S POEM]

[To William Somerville]

THE MILLER AND HIS MAN:

a Counter-part to The Monk and the Millers Wife. a Tale

THE CLEVER OFFCOME

[A Prologue for Julius Caesar]

we Scarce dare hope in these censorious days
with all our dilegence to gain Much Praise
is it for Boys to act the fatal Doom
of Julius cesar and the fall of Rome
Some never to be Pleasd may duly say
we can expect no Pleasure from this Play
whoever thinks so, to your homes retire
and pelt your parts on those you please to hire
our Souls tho young are of a British Growth
they warmly breath[e] for Liberty & Scowth [OMITTED]

[_]

(Ten lines obliterated by damp and six lines deleted.)

and beter things from such who early aim
to front these rising hieghts that lead to fame
Let others joly dron away their youth
grope throw the gloom whilst we in quest of truth
discover how Ill governd Passions cause
their slaves neglect Reson & virtues Laws
and hury them at Last throw all that evil
to Infamy destruction and the Devil
Taught by the Muse that clearly points our way
we change our times & place[s] can display

[A Prologue to The Gentle Shepherd]

[An Epilogue for a Schoolplay]

To day our Scenes have to your View desp[l]ayd
The consequence of cruelty & pride
The Tyrant falls while one Heroick chief
to groning Nations gives a brave relief
such beautyous Painting should engage each mind
to all thats generous noble just & kind
Then since Improvment now is all our aim
we surely may your smiles & praises claim
which if obtaind youl Quickly see each Boy
spring throw his Learning up to man with Joy

Richy & Edi

ane Eclogue To the memory of Sr Richard Steel

R[ichy]
how Glad am I O Hapy Gaist to find
that Death wants power to change thy friendly mind
still dear to me was Edie Love & fame
and throw Eternity shall be the same
Lay Josie in these shaws sae sweet & fair
are we with fools to Tooly ony mair
maun we again watch wakrife throw the Night
and wast our days to set the wandrer right

Edie
Nae Mair O Isaac, needs thou draw thy Pen
To Please the Ladys & instruct the men
the Prude Coquet the Sharper prig the Beau
are names that nane in a' Elysium know
nor here nae party with detracting tale
Strive under thumb oer ither to prevail
here Lov & Honour in full splendor shine
and at annothers Bliss na shades repine
Not sae Below wher thou with wondrows skill
raind pleasure & Instruction from thy Quill
whilst Hid behind thy Borrowed name & Place
Thy Taciturnity and shorten'd face
Like haf a God or prophet thou wast praisd
and ilka ane thy fame & value raisd
but soon as eer thee Englishman came forth
one party ceases to extole thy worth
Then Thou Indignant publisher was named
and father only to fair fondlings fam'd
nor did they mind how faithfully and True
thou helps frae me & others didst avow.

THE ADDRESS

[An Elegy in Memory of William Aikman]

[A Second Elegy on William Aikman]

[Clerk]
Welcome Dear friend I wishd to meet the[e] here
Soft Breath[e] the Winds [and] a' the lift looks clear
to yon Deep Glen wher sun beams sinle shine
throw Shading Birks let's hy & there recline
there freely let us give a loose to greef
our mutual sighs will bring us some relief
whilest we the Merits sing & soul sae even
that made our Aikman Sae soon ripe for heaven

F[orbes]
O Clerk I like the kind proposall well
for in my Breast sic tender Twangs I feel
that all that pleasd me once now dull appear
since we have lost the man to us so dear
what worth is Life it yeilds no stayd repose
when what we wish to keep we soonest Lose

Clerk
Take care it sets not mortalls to repine
with weak reflections [on] the Will devine
all that he breathd for her[e] below
and hinders merits flow to blow

[In Memory of a Youth]

O Much Loved Youth for thee in tender Grief
with gushing Eyes ten Thousand Seek relief
who with delight beheld thy rising Shine
Blazing with splendor Humane & Divine
Thy Morning promised us a Beautyous Day
free from these Mists that cloud the Heavnly way
when Reason, Sacred Guide! in Shakles divine
and Blinded Zeal with Ignorance combine
to Banish Love & Quench the Holy fire
which makes the Soul up to its God aspire
Leaving the weak sunk in the Quags of Doubt
confirming in their vice the Godles Rout
Thoughts more Elate and of a higher kind
with raptures Glowd in our young prophets mind
he saw he knew & felt that God was Love
and taught the heart in amrous strains to move
Toward that source wher glories all abound
where all we wish & all we want are found
Alas! no more, we Hear the Heavnly youth
with Energy demonstrate Christian Truth
with all that force & Beautys which controll
the Burst of vice & captivate the Soul
to tred those pious paths that calmly Lead
the thristing mind to the Great fountain Head
where now enlarged from every Humane Strife
with Joy he Quaffs the Eternall streams of Life
There Envious detraction never wounds
nor is Low Intrest known in these Bright Bounds
There stormy Pride fierce anger sullen spleen
cease to pursue with stinges envenomd keen
But there in its meridian Blazes Bright
The Bond of all perfection and delight
The Grace we ought to grasp of greaces worth
much disrespected on this Hell-tinged Earth
He saw its Beauty & with pious care
Implored the gift from God & had his share
But cease kind friends to wast[e] your useles Tears
for him who now sormounts all pains & fears
Born up with seraphs wings he leaves this Globe
to be adornd with Lights Eternall Robe
he takes his Harp and tunes the Hermonious Strings
to his Patrons praise the Almighty King of Kings

[Reversal of Situation]

[A Prologue to Macbeth]

In Mimick Scenes w' atemp with action Bold
to represent great Incidents of old
when Usurpation and Tyranick sway
did on brave Calidonia's vitalls prey
Till Heaven auspicous for the righteous side
defeat th'opressor in his height of Pride
Then Royal Malcom rose, in all thats Bright
Like the fair Sun after a stormy night
and made his Influense kind to all extend
his countreys father & its Bravest friend
This Night we hope to please whilst round we veiw
ane audience of a tast so Just and true
the Royall Band who nobly are Inspird
with Sentments that their Brave fathers fired
who like to think to act & Dress & move
Like them whose Memorys demand our Love
Justly demand these wreaths shall neer decay
highest Esteem and the Imortal Lay
Hail to the Royall Archers who delight
to Imitate these Guardians of our Right
may they with Grandure flurish & display
spirits still Brave brightend with all thats Gay
the worthy Paterns to the Rising age
and patronize the muses & the stage
by your Indul[g]ence will arise Refined
above the Insult of the Inferiour kind
which we'll despise whilst we Your favor find

KATE AND SUSAN,

A Pastoral to the Memory of John Gay, Esqr.

Katty

Susan

Katty

Susan

Katty

Susan

Katty

Susan

Katty

Susan

TO THE Rt HONble SUSANA, COUNTESS OF EGLINTOUN.

The Muse's Salutation, on New Years Day 1733 after the late sickly weather.

To Dr Robinson when at Edinburgh July 30th 1734

Now troth dear Doctor it is kind
and shaws a Cowthie Aefauld mind
in you wha live sae far away
on Brittain's sunny side of the Brae
to dawt and clap a Northern pow
owning his roundels easy row
I own I like the scawpy height
where men maist sib to Gods delight
yet pay my debts and school my Weans
by canny conduct of my gains
and fowk think that ane unko ferly
'cause poets play that part sae rarely
Thanks to Queensberry and the rest
wha gave what biggit up my nest
when Quarto volume chancd to get in
five hundreds frae the best in Brittain
for which I'll chant and shaw I'm gratefull
'till canker'd Eild make singing hatefull

[AN ELEGY ON THE COUNTESS OF MORAY]

[In Praise of Caroline]

Allan
The weets awa the morning fair
nae rumbling wind desturbs the air
the Birds are singing throw the shaws
Echoes repete the watter faws
the Bees have left their waxy Bowers
to suck their sweetnes frae the flowers
a' things agrree in humour gay
to make this out a pleasant day
Then come my Lasie lets lean doun
here distant frae the dinsome Toun
and help me as thou aft hast done
to put my Landart pipes in tune

Muse
Ah Shepherd thou at last maun tire
for Eild will sloken out thy fire
consider on thy borrowed een
and fifty winters thou hast seen
since now thy youthfu flames away
forget to sing & learn to pray

Bard
Oh say na that again my Dear
I yet have health & fancy clear
& gust the pleasures of the plain
as heartyly withouten pain
as when you taught me by yon spring
My Gentle Shepherds Loves to Sing

Muse
I'm blith to hear't than ne'er be Dowf
as lang's ye can a sonnet sowf
I never will my help refuse
and now what subject do ye chuse

Bard
I fain would sing of Caroline
our Lady gracious sweet & sheen
whase goodness keeps our Joys alive
wha takes delyte to see us thrive
sent doun frae heaven without a flaw
a Nursing Mother to us a'
wha finds our pleasure & our pain
as touching as they were her ain
a thousand ways she has found out
to bring our happynes about
amang the lave the other day
her Lads & Lasies heard her say
That she & a' her Bony Breed
Shoud nae mair Busk in foraign weed
but cast a coppy to the Rest
by being in hamelt cleathathing dress[ed]
Now spinsters with the nicesest care
twine sma ye're lint and bleach it fair
Let lang extended webs be seen
like new fawn snaw on ilka green
Shepherds be tenty of your sheip
and frae their Backs a Treasure Reip
a Treasure that befar excells
hoards howkit out of Spanzie fells
ye Lads that Labour on the Loom
be nae mair fleyd for purses Toom
wark true & tight ye'll never fail
to have a clever canny sale

To the Countes of Eglingtoun with the bass-relief Bustos of the 12 Cesars

These first Imperial twelve who blaze
So bright in antient story
Who did by noble conquest raise
old Rome to all her Glory
Attend you ladyship in Bust
were they in Being now
Sure Julius or the great Agust
would share the world with you

Dalkieths Welcome to Her prince

ane ode

His Grace Duke of Buccleughs return to Scotland 1735

Ye winds Ly Hush within your caves
auld ocean calm thy roaring waves
fair sun with brighter rays arise
and wheel arround unclouded skys
Flora & ceres lift your painted heads
oer gilded plains & verdant meads
Tune all your notes that spread the wing
and Joyn in concert while we sing
a welcome to our gracious Lord
by all his subjects Hearts adord
Thousands who his kind Influence feell
Grateful to Heaven devoutly kneel
that for them such a prince was born
whose crouding virtues strive t'adorn
these Honours that are handed Doun
from Royal Blood, & old renown
Thus all the good & great unite
to make his character complete.
Propitious power who ever guards
the patriot and his worth rewards
on our dear prince thy Blessing Shower
who coppying heaven Imploys his power
and all the virtues of his mind
in actions noble just, & Kind
witness the chearfull Smiles we trace
on every pleasd Depantant face
who're blest with such a happy fate
upon the Godlike man to wate
get up ye Nymphs & all ye swains
that dwell oer his extended plains
from mountains where your flocks you feed
from every Holm & flowry mead
wher millions of Black catle stray
and round the chry[s]tall margins play
from Ridges that the Dales adorn
with Richest Loads of various corn
with heartsome Look in best array
ye Blythsome Lads & Lases gay
soon as your healthfull labours past
and phebus dips down to the west
meet on the green & by the spring
lead out the dance & sweetly sing
your joys for your brave Lord returnd
whose absence you oftimes have mournd
and let this thought still chear your Blood
that he delights to do you good
and on your thriving neer will frown
whilst he esteems you as his own
beneath whose shining Influence
who is your Patron & Defence
flourish, strangers to the pain
[of] those who drag a Tyrants chain
and wish th'oppressor far away
while you Implore your prince's stay
Ye Scotian chiefs who oft decline
in your own proper Sphere to Shine
while like Satelitys you Roam
who'd shine the first Rate Stars at home
Coppy from Brave Buccleught the art
to gain the Love of every heart
by chusing on these field[s] to move
that God & Nature bids you Love
wher honours shall flow like a stream
from honest hearts that gush esteem
joynd with that humble will shall make
them for you all Hazards undertake
and if its cald for at their Hand
even hazard Life at your command
Hear us you powers who mankind rule
by your divine almighty will
Let Healthy Days of Lengthend date
Be our great Scots propitious fate
Croud all his hours with that delight
to which the Patriot has a right
The wish of all the best of Scots
from cheviot Hills to John a Grots
heard by the Muses who rejoyce
to Echo round the general voice
delighted with the task divine
to sing the virtues that combine
and give the Great the fairest shine

Epistle to John Wardlaw

UPON THE RIGHT REV(EREN)D RALPH ERSKIN

Behold the man whose tunefull tone
would melt a very heart of stone,
When he against the Drunkard roars
or lays about him at the Whores.
O thou great whore of Babel fear
thy forsaid downfall draweth near
For Ralf the Seir, Ralf hath said
thou on thy Back shall soon be laid,
This is the man who far and near
the Marrow Moderns flock to hear,
Him prove these Brethren want a missive
that take the Oaths and Are Submissive,
Who blinded with the light of Reason,
find out no Godliness in Treason,
Obeying laws like Simple Sotts
to which Black Bishops gave their Votes,
Who only preach against our Crimes
but never touch upon the Times,
While Such in Common Doctrines juggle,
Great Ralf converts with Rhime & Ridle,
All hail Dunfermling's shining star
thy face & verse shall travell far,
And make mae people laugh & sleep,
than 'eer thy Sermons caus'd to weep.

MR. EBENEZER ERSKINS PROTEST

Against Five of his Elders for their Submission to Order & Government, and Summonding them from his Pulpit in Stirling to appear before the Tribunall of Jesus Christ—Versified.

[On Church Patronage]

THE MARROW BALLAD

On Seeing a Stroling Congregation Going to a Field Meeting, May 9th, 1738.

TO MR. JAMES HOME

Sir,

EPISTLE TO MR. H. S. AT LONDON NOVr 1738

ON GEORGE WHITEFIELD THE STROLLING PREACHER

To Dr Cunninghame

[Dr Cunningham and his lady's wishes for a return to their native soil when sojourning in Wales]

RESIGNATION

This world is freighted with wonders in store,
And we were sent to it to think and explore;
And when the due summons shall call us away,
No more's to be done but contented obey.

'TIS WELL THATS NOT WARSE

A Moral Tale

[A POEM OF CIVIC REJOICING]

[TO LADY DICK]

Madam

TO L[ADY] D[ICK]

Madam,

TO DOCTOR BOSWELL With the Two Vols. of my Poems.

[EPITAPH ON ROBERT MYLNE]

Faith Master Death, 'tis but a scurvy job,
To pay a visit to our friend ‘Old Rob’;
He liked good company, 'tis passing true,
But truly never would have thought of you.

AN EPISTLE WROTE FROM MAVISBANK MARCH 1748 TO A FRIEND IN EDR.

To the Lairds of Annandale Conjunctly & Severaly A. R. not Greeting, wishes them all a good Bridle-Hand

[To George Clerk of Drumcrieff)

[THE EXCOMMUNICATION OF RALPH ERSKINE]

The Synode to old Sathan sends
the Compliments of all his friends
to inform him, by their right Divine
they intend to make him a propine
of Brethren who reprov'd grow stiffer
and in some whitty-whattys differ
doing our cause sa mekle skaith
by favouring the Burgher Aith
for which we Masters Gib & Brown
to raise your Belzieships renown
have come to a full resolution
for fixing our constitution
by solemn excomunication
to sneg such off from their salvation
and first we shall begin with Ralf
that bungling ballad singing calf
who in his rhiming fidle didles
turnd the plain gospell into ridles
for which and taking Aiths to Kings
and whateer clips Seceding wings.
To cure all such upsprouting evils
we give him up to all the Devils
to lick him with their Taz so snell
doun the deepest pot of Hell.

VERSES ADDRESST TO THE MAVIS WELL WHICH FLOWS IN THE GARDENS OF MAVIS BANK

O fountain, favourit of fate!
hou early happy is thy state
soon as from Earth's dark cells thou springs,
at thy clear Head, the Mavis sings,
Joyn'd with th'hermonious choirs of mirth
to hail & celebrate thy birth,
no sooner thou beholds the light
than Nature's beautys glad thy sight,
and Flora with her frag'rant gales
all her refreshing scents retails,
Pomona with luxuriant Loads
Presents the Nectar of the Gods,
delighted with the croud of sweets
which Thee to Paradice invites,
with rapid rush, adoun thou pours
to incorporate with the fruits & flowers,
their roots to lave, & drouth expell
Midst them thy stores collected swell,
into a pond which to the Eye
reflects the glorys of the skie,
reflects the Nymphs of gracefull mein,
who tred arround thy margin green,
and with their songs artfull & sweet
make Ecchoe from thy Head repete,
was it oer thee, say limpid spring,
that the vain fop his head did hing?
where, daz'led with his oun dear Charms,
he fled the enamour'd virgin's arms,
Ay sure it was, for here, poor voice!
near Thee residing makes her choice
whence, from on high, she sees below
her still belov'd Narcissus grow—
O fountain, favourite of fate!
what muse thy merits can relate!
hou gratefull to the Taste, hou good
to staunch our drouth, & cool the blood,
for ever may thy spring still flow
and on the cheek make Health to glow.

TO Sir ALEXander DICK OF PRESTONFIELD, BARONET, WITH MR. RAMSAY'S POEMS IN THIS AND SECOND VOLUME

AN EPISTLE TO JAMES CLERK, ESQ. OF PENNYCUIK

(2) Poems for which dates have not been established.

Spoke to a Chapin Stowp

The Ingenious and Entertaining Interlocutory of The Reverend Presbytry of Inverness

[A PRAYER]

A Note of a Papist's Preaching

[A Reply to Critics]

[Defiance of a Critic]

[Ane Epitaph]

[Here Lys ane author wha had made]

Here Lys ane author wha had made
a muckle volume by his Theyving
And thought to Live whan he was Dead
But chancd to Die while he was Living

[An Epigram]

[no Labour is too great for pope]

no Labour is too great for pope
and what coud Puzled Priors muse
none but ane empty snarling fop
Like Thee will to their fame refuse

On Allexr Mitchell Butler to the Earl of Wigtoun

[To a Painter]

[Leap Year]

[Epigram]

[Jock upo' Land had Sons eleven]

The Hand preferd to the Hat a Epigrame

Ae Day a Bonny Lass and Braw
gat on the open street a fa'
The Wind Blew up her sark like milk
far higher than her Hose of silk
To ilka ane her conquering Spade
like a spred Eagle was displayd
Mean time came by a sighing Brither
wha tenting this Mark of his Mither
as it had been to say the Grace o't
he laid his hat upo' the face o't
Crys out the Lady Lying flat
Kind sir ye may tak aff ye'r Hat
Ye'r Loof is Braid enough for That

[Old Age]

[Unrepentant]

But what need Either Jock or I
care for the Parish Taunting
since a we did was but to Try
the Thing that we were wanting

[Cards and Politics]

To a Gentlman who would have me always to write Epigrams

That's your advice I Thank you for't
but My Muse better bred is
for, Tho ye Like a Thing that's short
sae disna a' the Ladys

[The Dying Parishioner]

[Friendship]

Sir while I ly within your Arm
I'm safe well pleasd and kindly warm
having my servant at a Call
my Thoughts rise high my soul grows Tal[l]
nor do I ever fear to die
while thus I in your bosom Ly
if ther I ever chance to spew
the same on me you may renew
thus we by mutual Love shall Bind
our selves in one and plesure find
till by the stern comand of death
we shall be forcd to yield our Breath

THE DISTRESS AND COMPLAINT OF MUSTAPHA FOR LOSS OF HIS FUR

A Dogrell

THE TYKES TOOLY

THE BROAD HINT CUNNINGLY ANSWERD

BABBAND AND TITTYPOW

A Persian Tale Imitated from the Original of Yas Marnalla, Pleasant to Siuvatio, Governour of the Three Spicy Valeys.

AN ELEGY ON MR. SAMUEL CLERK RUNNING STATIONER

On Flavia's Fan

[CHLOE AND DAMON]

Chloe, an amorous youth desired
Ane hieroglyphick she possest.
Long she denyd what he requird,
And prind it faster to her breast
Till some kind power on Damon's side
(That kens when words from thoughts are wide)
Pearch'd on the Bossom of the belle,
Staw out the prin, and doun it fell.
It fell a prize to Damon's share,
Who joyfull heard the lovely maid
Bid him his purchase keep with care;
Which he with chearfullness obeyd.
For why? The auspicious embleme bare
A heart wher 1 and 10 stood fair,
Which we read thus: tis 10 to 1
But he her real [heart

[_]

The word is actually depicted by a heart-shaped figure.

] may gain.

[A Compliment]

anes Cupid took a wandring fit
which frighted Venus out o'er wit
she sought him Lang and gart the Cryar
proclaim wha eer Brought her the strayer
on her Ceolestial lips shoud feast
cryd Colin here he's in my Breast
come pay or Bid Bennetta kiss me
Syn better than ye'r word ye'll Bless me

Banks of Forth

To A fa[i]r Quaker in [the] Dumps

A Song/Tune/Blest as the Imortall

[A Morning Song]

Coridon arise my Coridon
for Titan shineth Clear
who's ther that calls on Corridon
or who est that I hear
Philida thy true Love Calleth Thee
Arise then arise then! arise
Come feed thy flocks with me
Philida my true Love is it Thee?
I come then, I come then, I come
to feed my flocks with thee
Philida, render my Philida
that heart which cupids wiles
has ravisht from thy Coridon
with thy sweet Looks & smiles
Coridon thy true Love claims't of thee
or change then or change then
and give they heart to me
Coridon my shepherd I yeild to [thee]
be true then be truen then
and I'll give my heart to thee

[A Forsaken Lover]

[Fragment]

[my friend be thankfu for the Grace]

my friend be thankfu for the Grace
of 'scaping what aft cleeks in
The Cannongates a Kitle place
for Lovers to get Breeks in

[A Medley]

[In Praise of Scottish Ladies]

O Climate happy sweet & Rare
Blest with Lovely constant Fair
whose Beautyous forms in Shapes & faces
their smiles their tuneful tongues & Graces
the Nations of the Earth excell a'
from China West to Portabella
from Lapland coast where witches Dance
to capes of Horn & Bon Esprance
mongst whom like the first orb of Light
the Lovely Hartford Glances Bright
whose numerous beautys as the Spring
Invite the muses all to sing
Charlot & Susan charming Twain
Pride and Boast of Glota's Plain
Sisters each with seraphick. . . .

[_]

(The rest obliterated by damp)

[An Evening Frolic]

THE VIRTUES OF SCOBIE WELLS

(A FINE SPRING NEAR THE HOUSE OF PENNYCUIK)

[TO THE EARL OF DALHOUSIE]

[TO SIR WILLIAM BENNET OF MARLEFIELD]

from Publick Jars & Party Squable
that vex the Great and Please the Rable
Sir you've retird with as much Grace
and equal honour from your Place
as when in fields you drove the sword
or gave you[r] Councell at the Board
when you for Brittain dard her faes
or for her Intrest sums coud raise
still true to Justice faith & Right
your Character shines ever Bright
But why dear Sir may we complain
must Marlefield you thus strict retain
and all your smiles & witt engross
while friends deserted feel the Loss
my muse half Petted droops the wing
and snarls when Idiots bid her Sing
when merit faintly is regarded
and worth Like yours sae ill rewarded
But now the Muse wad fain Express
her wishes and with Blyth adress
in name of many to Beseek ye
not to desert for ay auld Reeky
wher a' your hearty friends desire
to se you[r] chearfullness Inspire
That Point wherin you never fail
when smiles Invite the witty Tale
Come then & with kind Pleasure trace
glad welcome in each friendly face
who wearyd with Politick din
and common jangle of out & in
wad be content to drap these Mobers
of faithfullness and friendship Robers

Spoken to Aeolus, in the House of Marlefield, on the Night of a violent Wind.

Why on this bow'r, bluff-cheeked god,
Sacred to Phoebus, and th'abode
Of Bennet, his much-dauted son,
Say, wherefore makes thou all this din,
In dead of night? Heh! like a kow,
To fuff at winnocks and cry Wow!—
I have it now,—Juno has seen
The fair Bennetas tread the green,
And them for bairns of Venus' guest,
Sae sends thee to disturb their rest.
Pray wauk your body, if you please,
Gae gowl and tooly on the seas;
Thou wants the pith to do them harm;
Within we're safe, and snug, and warm,
Kindly refresh'd with healthfu' sleep,
While to my cod my pow I keep,
Canty and cosiely I lye,
And baith thy bursten cheeks defy.

[TO SAUNDERS WOOD]

I read your Letter Saunders Wood,
And the main meaning understood,
Which is that ye like well the Air,
Of Pindus and nine Lasses fair;
On that Green edge with them to Sing
And quaff at the Pierrian Spring.
The worthy ardor I approve,
And Sauls of sic a Byass Love;
Without whilk turn I've aften thought,
The tuneless mind is good for nought,
But howking in Earth's guts for Cash,
Or throw' vile Party Dubbs to plash;
To craw upon a dirty Midding,
By doing a' there Leaders' bidding,
Be't ne'er sae scandlous or dull nonsense,
Without regard to Law or Conscience.
But these wha tend th'harmonious Nine,
Have in them something mair Divine
Whilk beets a brave, and generous flame,
That Lows up to Immortal Fame,
Which by them justly is prefer'd,
To a' the Gowd grows in the Eard—
And makes them ever true and liel,
To God, the King, and Common-Weal,
Then mount my Lad and be na fley'd,
Upon our Pinnion'd Nag to ride;
For tho he be mair fleet and skeigh,
Than ony rins on Sands of Leith,
And haes gi'en mony a Chiel a Coup,
That durst between his Shoulders Loup,
Wha war na of the native Band,
And held na right the Bridle-Hand;
Yet if the Muses kindly own ye,
He's canny as a pacing Powny—
Thus far to hearten you I've sung,
But as a critick had my Tongue,
Till you and I sall fairly meet—
Then I sall shaw in Plan or feet,
Of your Essay, what I observ'd in't,
Till then, incog. your humble Servant;

[The Function of Satiric Poetry]

[A Fragment of an Epistle]

[The ugly only are the spitefu]

The ugly only are the spitefu
and with this spite themsels they gaw
nor satyr need, and the delytfu
nae line o't to their Skair can fa
These ar a hint of Thousands mae
I give well wordy of their Licks
Lets thrash them till theyre black & blay
nor count their Love worth fidlesticks
The Love & notice of the few
whose spirits rise aboon the rest
all men shoud court if its their due
and for the favour gratefull bow
Sir as your Allan does to you
whose muse such kindness has exprest

[With a Gift of Books]

[To the Lovely Lechmere]

[To Chloe]

[A Poem in Honour of the Return of the Sons of Sir William Bennet of Marlefield]

A PASTORAL EPITHALIUM

Strephon
Ho, Coridon, come on this mossy bank,
Lean down and press primroses fresh and rank.
I'm glad to see thee fraught with blest content.
Thou lookst as thou some pleasing thought wouldst vent;
Say, lovely friend, and give a reason why
Ther's so much gladness dancing in thine eye.

Coridon
Yes, my dear Strephon, it's not without reason
That I'm so blyth when ther's good occasion.
Do not you know Menalcus, the brave swain
That feeds his flocks on the adjacent plain?
This day of shepherds none more happy is,
For he's attained unto his long'd for bliss,
A long'd for bliss which oft did rack his mind.
But now the god of love, not always blind,
Has unto his best wishes proven kind
And granted him a bride as bright as day,
Who will with pleasure all his cares allay.

Strephon
O sweet surprise! I know the happy youth—
But who is she that will with softness soothe
His easy cares and with her pleasing charms
Clasp our dear friend within her snowy arms?

Coridon
With snow for whyteness they may well compare,
And all her frame so delicate and rare.
Her form all casten is in beauty's molds.
Thousands of lambs are lodg'd within her folds.
It's fair Melossa, who are fields did grace
With modest air and with a charming face.

Strephon
I've seen the fair Melossa—happy he,
If with her comely form her soul aggree!
Such a fair lodging surely was design'd
To harbor nothing but a virtuous mind.

Coridon
It was her bright virtue which did most commend
Her to the love of our discerning friend—
Thrice happy he, who hath the right to all
In this wise nymph, which we can virtue call.

Strephon
Well he deserves her, and the gods are just
To put so fair a jewell in his trust,
Who knows to manage well what he intends.
His solid fancy flys with nimble wings
Through various tracts and to him knowledge brings—
Knowledge, which teacheth us with a sweet voice
What's bad, to shun; and what is good, to choice.

Coridon
Come, shepherd, rouse thee. This is not a day
To loyter in; tune up thy pipe and play,
And I will sing untill the rocks rebound
And th'echo thirds us in our joyfull sound.
The murmuring rivulet will be the bass
While she o're little cattarchs runs her race,
And the mild zephyr with his gentle breeze
Will give a soft sound soughing through the trees,
And on their tops or in the open sky
Will sour and sing the little feathered fry.
And let it be the subject of our theme
To blaze Menalcus' and Melossa's fame.

Strephon
May the great Pan preserve their breeding flocks
Of kine and sheep and goats that climb the rocks,
Let no wolf enter on their verdant spot,
And keep them free of all sickness and rot.
Jove grant them plenty of[f]spring to survive,
That on these plains their names may ever live
And by such generous worth bear up their fame
That ages after may still bless their name.

[A Dialogue]

[George]
Here Dick according to our paction Take
Ten pices yesternight I wond two hundred
Three twelve moneths that thou has been in my service
Reciving 5 per cent of all my Gains
praythee use make of all this money

Dick
and what but your purse bearer have I been
you know that by our Bargin I obliged
my self when eer you chancd to run agroun
to furnish you with twenty yellow Boys
now calculate how often this has hapned

G[e]orge
phew! that can never Balance the account
thourt Certainly Grown Rich & Hoards thy Treasure

D[ick]
Rich! no no Sir there's very small appearance
This way for you or me to have that fate
wherfore as Long as these ten yelow Boys
are safe in my possesion I Design
to drop you for a master for perhaps
before the morrow they are no more mine

[On the Death of his daughter, Christy]

farewell sweet Inocence—ah while I think
on thy Least Lovelyness my Spirits sink
fain would I banish from my melting mind
each thought of thee and wish my soul less kind
but still in spite of all my stuborn art
the Torture of Reflection Pains my heart
faint grows my fortitude do what I will
I hear & see the Beautyous Pratler still
Ah must I never never smiling see
again the little flaterer at my knee
with words half form'd delytfull to my Ears
which shined with witty thought Beyond her years
alace no more must these deserted arms
enfold my tender Bloom of Budding Charms
heart Rending thought—the Darling spirits fled
and the fair faitures fades in Deaths cold Bed
that Lovely mouth which oft I prest to mine
these twinkling Eyes that matchd the Brilants shine
now cease to smile, the sparkling stars are set
while death too early claims the Humane debt
flow freely Tears and ease my akeing soul
my Greifs too strong for Reason to controul
assist me hopes of ane Imortal Life
and endles Bliss unmixed with pain or Strife
Thither my Christy spotless heavenly flame
To(o) good for this vile world Returns from whence it came

[Fragment]

[To Harts and Hares Nature gave heels]

ON THE MARRIAGE OF Mr BULL PREACHER AND Mrs MARY ------

The Last Speech just before he hangd himself of Caleb Bailey who was Blawn Blind Breaking doun with Gun Pouder some curious Remains of Celtik Antiquity at Abery to mend a Park dike

[Fragment]

[You only You have the Ascendant gain'd]

[Fragment]

[Like twa fell flesher Tikes inurd to Quarrell]

[Fragment]

[Should Angells from the Heveans descend]

[ON JOHN NORIE]

[Contentment]

THE SMUGLERS

A Satyr

The Muse attempts Inflam'd with honest Zeal
to Lash destruction from the Common Weal
With horrour we the frightfull scene pursue
While perjurd wights & Bankrupts Crowd our view
Who pushd by private ends regard no Tyes
and all the Laws of God & Men despise
While Robd of Peace and Rackd with endless care
the Smugler grasps at Wealth by Means unfair
the honest Merchants with contentment find
ane Easy flow of Trade with Peace of mind
serene they from the Ship unloads their Store
nor dread the Hawk-eyd Waiters on the shore
who ever to the Running gang appear
their evil Genius shocking them with fear
when hid by night they trace Remotest Roads
and sweating Toil to hide their Lawles Loads
if Noding Birds should rustle on the spray
they sweat & tremble while their hearts give way
to evry aprehension Guilt sugests
to frighted fancys & disturbed Breasts
not without Reason oftentimes for they
whom theyr obligd to trust their Trust betray
Thus the young Rakes wha dread thier Parents frown
and strives to keep their nightly trips unknown
he's given up to him who makes his fob
pay handsomely for the unlawfull job
Besides a custumary fine that's due
Deciv'd by her wh'alone the secret knew

[Fragment]

[While at his forge, the Imortal cuckold]

While at his forge, the Imortal cuckold
that's to the Bonyest Godess Buckled
was Pointing these mischivous darts
that Peirces young unguarded hearts
his Bony wife in hinny dipt them
her son as aft with wormwood tipt them
mein time to get a cast of craft
either of hard ware, or of saft
came in the furious God that Rules
when feilds are Clad with feighting fools
and when the weirs are oer gaes sculkan
to adorn the brows of Cheils like Vulcan
the mighty Mars with scorning moves
his Weighty Lance & Leugh at Love's
what Pudding Prick What Shures [?] qouth he
are these ye make sae Light sae wee
but soone the slee Unsonsy Brat
said theirs ane weightier—feel but that
I'll lay if you speak truth & plain
you'll own it Heavyer than your ain
mars took it but nae sooner took it
than that he fund he had mistook it
to se her Brawny spark beguild
in hope to gain be't Venus smild
but frae the Bottom of his Liver
he sight and ound the dangerous Quiver
was heavey—and that he'd back receive it
quoth Cupid keep it since ye have it

[Translation of Horace: Book I, Ode IV, lines 15–20]

Imaidiatly we'll a take flight
into the darker shades of Night
as storys gang wi' Ghaists to Roam
in Gloomin pluto's gowsty Dome
Bid fair good day to pleasures syn
of Bonny Lasses and Red wine
Then deem ilk litle care a crime
dare waste an hour of precious Time
and since our Life's sae unko short
enjoy't a'—ye've nae mair for't.

[Translation of Horace: Book I, Ode V]

What young Raw Muisted Beau Bred at his Glass
now wilt thou on a Rose's Bed Carress
wha niest to thy white Breasts wilt thow intice
with hair unsnooded and without thy Stays
O Bonny Lass wi' thy Sweet Landart Air
how will thy fikle humour gie him care
when e'er thou takes the fling strings, like the wind
that Jaws the Ocean—thou'lt disturb his Mind
when thou looks smirky kind & claps his cheek
to poor friends then he'l hardly look or speak
the Coof belivest-na but Right soon he'll find
thee Light as Cork & wavring as the Wind
on that slid place where I 'maist brake my Bains
to be a warning I Set up twa Stains
that nane may venture there as I hae done
unless wi' frosted Nails he Clink his Shoon

[Translation of Horace: Book I, Ode VI]

Harmonious Pope wha made th'Inspired Greek
in British phrase his winsome Iliad speak
shoud Son'rous sing what Bairns unborn shall Read
O Great Argyle ilk martial doughty deed
of thine in a' thy Conduct and Carreer
in Closet Schems & Rieking fields of wier
Campbells Brave Chief we mensfowly decline
to sing the Heroes of King ffergus' line
Corbredus Gald in feght unkend to tire
or Caractatus shogan Rome's Empire
A blateness shoars me sair that I wad tine
my sell and spill a subject sae divine
if I should mint aboon my sphere to flee
and sing the Glorys of Cround heads & Thee.
Wha can descrive the pusiant God of War
in's adamantine Coat & Brasen Car
drawn by fierce Lyons throu Ten thousand ffaes
garing their heart strings crack wher e'er he gaes
wha can at Bannockburn Bauld Bruce display
or Thee at Mallplackae forcing thy Way
Enough for me to draw a Countrey dance
and how Blyth Gossips drink the young wifes hans
with Ourlies Clean how Tam & me fou feat
wad Rin an wrestle Round the Rucks wi' Kate

Ode 7th

[To a Noble Lord]

My Lrd

On the Birth Day of Mrs M. O. like her self fair & serene

[Fragment]

[Rideat usque Suo et dilecto Phoebus Alumno]

[Fragment]

[But Thousands wheeld unheeded there for me]

[Fragment]

[She Gecks as ane wad do her ill]

[Crambo]

he hates to be tyed doun for life
wild Rover! to a single wife
his hungry visage plainly shows
he to [his] wife prefers his Brose
last word Left out its sencles prose
then pray you sir turn out your Toes
and blaw that buble aff your nose
Syne prym it with a snishing dose
will please you better than a Rose
Button your Breeks ty up your hose
in play of Cramby we wrote those
and now we think it time to Close