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.

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; But soon we grew lovingly big,

I taught her, her terrors were naething.

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,
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 prove it true,

Tho' heretics may laugh;

For instance, there's yoursel just now,
God knows, an unco calf.

And should some patron be so kind,
As bless you wi' a kirk,

I doubt na, sir, but then we'll find,
Ye're still as great a stirk.

But, if the lover's raptur'd hour,
Shall ever be your lot,

Forbid it, ev'ry heavenly Power,
You e'er should be a stot!

Tho' when some kind connubial dear
Your but-and-ben adorns,

The like has been that you may wear
A noble head of horns.

And, in your lug, most reverend James,
To hear you roar and rowt,

Few men o' sense will doubt your claims
To rank amang the nowt.

And when ye're number'd wi' the dead,
Below a grassy hillock,

With justice they may mark your head-
"Here lies a famous bullock!"

NATURE'S LAW-A POEM

Humbly inscribed to Gavin Hamilton, Esq.

"Great Nature spoke: observant man obey'd "-POPE.

LET other heroes boast their scars,

The marks of sturt and strife:

And other poets sing of wars,

The plagues of human life:

Shame fa' the fun, wi' sword and gun

To slap mankind like lumber!
I sing his name, and nobler fame,
Wha multiplies our number.

Great Nature spoke, with air benign,
"Go on, ye human race;
This lower world I you resign;

Be fruitful and increase.

The liquid fire of strong desire

I've pour'd it in each bosom;

Here, on this hand, does Mankind stand,
And there is Beauty's blossom."

The Hero of these artless strains,
A lowly bard was he,

Who sung his rhymes in Coila's plains,
With meikle mirth an' glee;

Kind Nature's care had given his share
Large, of the flaming current;
And, all devout, he never sought
To stem the sacred torrent.

He felt the powerful, high behest
Thrill, vital, thro' and thro';

And sought a correspondent breast,
To give obedience due:

Propitious Powers screen'd the young flow'rs,

From mildews of abortion;

And low! the bard-a great reward—

Has got a double portion!

Auld cantie Coil may count the day,

As annual it returns,

The third of Libra's equal sway,

That gave another Burns,

With future rhymes, an' other times,

To emulate his sire:

To sing auld Coil in nobler style
With more poetic fire.

Ye Powers of peace, and peaceful song,
Look down with gracious eyes;
And bless auld Coila, large and long,
With multiplying joys;