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Gavin An'

Hamilton

If

gar
him follow to the kirk-
Aye when ye gang yoursel!
ye then maun be then
Frae hame this comin Friday,
Then please sir, to lea'e, sir,
The orders wi' your lady.

My word of honour I hae gi'en,
In Paisley John's, that night at e'en,
To meet the warld's worm;
To try to get the twa to gree,
An' name the airles an' the fee,
In legal mode an' form:
I ken he weel a snick can draw,
When simple bodies let him:
An' if a Devil be at a',

In faith he's sure to get him.
To phrase you and praise you,
Ye ken your Laureat scorns:
The pray'r still you share still
Of grateful MINSTREL BURNS.

EPITAPH FOR GAVIN HAMILTON,

THE

ESQ.

poor man weeps-here Gavin sleeps,
Whom canting wretches blam'd;

But with such as he, where'er he be,
May I be sav'd or damn'd!

EPITAPH ON WEE JOHNIE
Hic Jacet wee Johnie

WHOE'ER thou art, O, reader, know

That Death has murder'd Johnie ;

An' here his body lies fu' low;

For saul he ne'er had ony.

EPITAPH FOR ROBERT AIKEN, The

ESQ.

KNOW thou, O stranger to the fame

Of this much lov'd, much honoured name!
(For none that knew him need be told)
A warmer heart death ne'er made cold.

VERSIFIED NOTE TO DR MAC-
KENZIE, MAUCHLINE

FRIDAY first's the day appointed
By the Right Worshipful anointed,
To hold our grand procession;
To get a blaud o' Johnie's morals,
And taste a swatch o' Manson's barrels
I' the way of our profession.
The Master and the Brotherhood
Would a' be glad to see you;
For me I would be mair than proud
To share the mercies wi' you.
If Death, then, wi' skaith then,
Some mortal heart is hechtin,
Inform him, and storm him,

That Saturday you'll fecht him.

MossGIEL, 14th June A. M. 5790.

ROBERT BURNS.

STANZAS ON NAETHING

EXTEMPORE EPISTLE TO GAVIN HAMILTON, ESQ.

To you, sir, this summons I've sent,
Pray, whip till the pownie is freathing;

But if you demand what I want,

I honestly answer you-naething.

Lodge's procession

All for nothing

Ne'er scorn a poor

Poet like me,

For idly just living and breathing,
While people of every degree

Are busy employed about―naething.
Poor Centum-per-centum may fast,
And grumble his hurdies their claithing,
He'll find, when the balance is cast,
He's gane to the devil for-naething.
The courtier cringes and bows,
Ambition has likewise its plaything;
A coronet beams on his brows;
And what is a coronet ?-naething

Some quarrel the Presbyter gown,
Some quarrel Episcopal graithing;
But every good fellow will own
Their quarrel is a' about—naething.

The lover may sparkle and glow,
Approaching his bonie bit gay thing:
But marriage will soon let him know
He's gotten a buskit-up naething.

The Poet may jingle and rhyme,

In hopes of a laureate wreathing,
And when he has wasted his time,
He's kindly rewarded wi'-naething.

The thundering bully may rage,

And swagger and swear like a heathen; But collar him fast, I'll engage

You'll find that his courage is-naething.

Last night wi' a feminine whig-
A poet she couldna put faith in n;

But soon we grew lovingly big,

Drown

I taught her, her terrors were-naething. ing a poet

Her whigship was wonderful pleased,
But charmingly tickled wi' ae thing;
Her fingers I lovingly squeezed,

And kissed her, and promised her-naething

The priest anathèmas may threat-
Predicament, sir, that we're baith in ;
But when honour's reveillé is beat,
The holy artillery's-naething.

And now I must mount on the wave-
My voyage perhaps there is death in ;
But what is a watery grave?

The drowning a Poet is-naething.

And now, as grim death's in my thought,
To you, sir, I make this bequeathing;

My service as long as ye've ought,

And my friendship, by God, when ye've naething.

THE FAREWELL

The valiant, in himself, what can he suffer?
Or what does he regard his single woes?
But when, alas! he multiplies himself,
To dearer selves, to the lov'd tender fair,

To those whose bliss, whose beings hang upon him,
To helpless children,—then, Oh then, he feels
The point of misery festering in his heart,
And weakly weeps his fortunes like a coward:
Such, such am I!—undone!

THOMSON'S Edward and Eleanora.

FAREWELL, Old Scotia's bleak domains,
Far dearer than the torrid plains,

A last farewell

Where rich ananas blow!
Farewell, a mother's blessing dear!
A brother's sigh! a sister's tear!
My Jean's heart-rending throe!
Farewell, my Bess! tho' thou'rt bereft
Of my paternal care,

A faithful brother I have left,
My part in him thou❜lt share!
Adieu, too, to you too,

My Smith, my bosom frien';
When kindly you mind me,
O then befriend my Jean!

What bursting anguish tears my heart;
From thee, my Jeany, must I part!
Thou, weeping, answ'rest-"No!"
Alas! misfortune stares my face,
And points to ruin and disgrace,
I for thy sake must go!
Thee, Hamilton, and Aiken dear,
A grateful, warm adieu :
I, with a much-indebted tear,
Shall still remember you!

All hail then, the gale then,

Wafts me from thee, dear shore !

It rustles, and whistles

I'll never see thee more!

THE CALF

To the Rev. JAMES STEVEN, on his text, Malachi, ch. iv. vers. 2. "And ye shall go forth, and grow up, as CALVES of the stall."

RIGHT, sir! your text I'll
Tho' heretics may laugh;

prove

it true,

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