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University of Virginia Library

The Poems of Robert Fergusson

Edited by Matthew P. McDiarmid

Fergusson, Robert (1750-1774)

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ELEGY, On the Death of Mr David Gregory, late Professor of Mathematics in the University of St Andrews.

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SONGS FROM ARTAXERXES.

[From Act II. Scene II.]

[From Act II. Scene VI.]

[From Act III. Scene VII.]

I.

PASTORAL I. MORNING.

II.

PASTORAL II. NOON.

III.

PASTORAL III. NIGHT.

On the cold Month of April 1771.

A SATURDAY's EXPEDITION.

The DECAY of FRIENDSHIP.

Written at the Hermitage of Braid, near Edinburgh.

A Burlesque Elegy on the amputation of a Student's Hair, before his Orders.

FASHION. A POEM.

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The RIVERS of SCOTLAND.

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AIR, Tweedside.

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The TOWN and COUNTRY Contrasted.

On the DEATH of Mr THOMAS LANCASHIRE, Comedian.

CONSCIENCE. An ELEGY.

The King's Birth-Day in Edinburgh.

On the Death of Dr Toshack of Perth, a great humourist.

DAMON to his FRIENDS.

The Canongate Play-house in Ruins.

The PEASANT, the HEN and young DUCKS.

To Mr Guion, Comedian, for his Panegyric on Dr Walker, &c.

CALLER OYSTERS.

To Mr Robert Fergusson.

Answer to Mr J. S.'s Epistle.

On seeing a Lady paint herself.

Against repining at Fortune.

Epitaph on General Wolfe.

Epigram on the Epitaphs for General Wolfe.

To the Tron-kirk Bell.

Character of a Friend, in an Epitaph which he desired the Author to write.

The Delights of Virtue.

Lines addressed to Gavin Wilson.

A Tavern Elegy.

Mutual Complaint of Plainstanes and Causey, in their Mother-tongue.

The Rising of the Session.

The Sow of Feeling.

Epilogue, spoken by Mr Wilson, at the Theatre-royal, in the Character of an Edinburgh Buck. Written by R. Fergusson.

ODE to the BEE.

The Farmer's Ingle.

The Ghaists: A Kirk-yard Eclogue.

To R. FERGUSSON.

To ANDREW GRAY.

On seeing a Butterfly in the Street.

Hame Content. A Satire.

A Mournful Ditty from the Knight of Complaints

On seeing a Collection of Pictures painted by Mr Runciman .

On James Cumming.

Ode to the Gowdspink

An Expedition to Fife and the Island of May, on board the Blessed Endeavour of Dunbar, Captain Roxburgh Commander.

To the Principal and Professors of the University of St Andrews, on their superb treat to Dr Samuel Johnson.

On the Music-bells playing yesterday forenoon, prior to Brown and Wilson's execution, on the Deacons being presented to Council.

Elegy on John Hogg, late Porter to the University of St Andrews.

A POEM TO THE MEMORY OF JOHN CUNNINGHAM.

To Sir John Fielding, on his Attempt to suppress the Beggar's Opera

To Dr Samuel Johnson:

Epigram on seeing Scales used in a Mason Lodge.

Epigram on a Lawyer's desiring one of the Tribe to look with respect to a Gibbet.

EPIGRAM written Extempore, at the desire of a Gentleman who was rather ill-favoured, but who had a beautiful Family of Children.

On the Author's intention of going to Sea.

Epigram on James Boswell, Esq.; and Dr. Samuel Johnson being confined to the Isle of Sky.

The Sitting of the Session.

A DRINK ECLOGUE.

To my Auld Breeks.

Rob. Fergusson's Last Will.

Lines written to Collector Charles Lorimer.

Codicile to Rob. Fergusson's Last Will.

HORACE, Ode XI. Lib. I.

The AUTHOR's LIFE.

ODE to DISAPPOINTMENT.

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JOB, Chap III. Paraphrased.

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APPENDIX A. SONGS FROM THE ROYAL SHEPHERD.

[From Act I. Scene II.]

[From Act I. Scene III.]

[From Act I. Scene VI.]

[From Act I. Scene VII.]

[From Act I. Scene VIII.]

[From Act II. Scene IV.]

[From Act II. Scene V.]

[From Act II. Scene VII.]

[From Act II. Scene IX.]

[From Act III. Scene I.]

[From Act III. Scene III.]

[From Act III. Scene IV.]

[From Act III. Scene V.]

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Against repining at Fortune.

Tho' in my narrow bounds of rural toil,
No obelisk or splendid column rise;
Tho' partial Fortune still averts her smile,
And views my labours with condemning eyes;

Yet all the gorgeous vanity of state
I can contemplate with a cool disdain;
Nor shall the honours of the gay and great
E'er wound my bosom with an envious pain.

Avails it ought the grandeur of their halls,
With all the glories of the pencil hung,
If Truth, fair Truth! within th'unhallow'd walls,
Hath never whisper'd with her seraph tongue?

76

Avails it ought, if music's gentle lay
Hath oft been echo'd by the sounding dome;
If music cannot sooth their griefs away,
Or change a wretched to a happy home?

Tho' Fortune should invest them with her spoils,
And banish poverty with look severe,
Enlarge their confines, and decrease their toils,
Ah! what avails if she increase their care?

Tho' fickle she disclaim my moss-grown cot,
Nature, thou look'st with more impartial eyes:
Smile thou, fair Goddess! on my sober lot;
I'll neither fear her fall, nor court her rise.

When early larks shall cease the matin song;
When Philomel at night resigns her lays;
When melting numbers to the owl belong,
Then shall the reed be silent in thy praise.

Can he, who with the tide of Fortune sails,
More pleasure from the sweets of nature share?
Do Zephyrs waft him more ambrosial gales,
Or do his groves a gayer livery wear?

To me the heavn's unveil as pure a sky;
To me the flow'rs as rich a bloom disclose:
The morning beams as radiant to my eye,
And darkness guides me to as sweet repose.

If luxury their lavish dainties piles,
And still attends upon their sated hours,
Doth health reward them with her open smiles,
Or exercise enlarge their feeble pow'rs?

77

'Tis not in richest mines of Indian gold,
That man this jewel happiness can find,
If his unfeeling breast, to virtue cold,
Denies her entrance to his ruthless mind.

Wealth, pomp and honour are but gaudy toys;
Alas! how poor the pleasures they impart!
Virtue's the sacred source of all the joys
That claim a lasting mansion in the heart.