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"What mak' ye, sae like a thief?"
"Gif I rise and let you in "
"Let me in," quo' Findlay;
"Here this night if ye remain "-
"Ye maun conceal till your last hour:"
Of all the numerous ills that hurt our peace,
By our own folly, or our guilt brought on:
In ev'ry other circumstance, the mind
O burning hell! in all thy store of torments
There's not a keener lash!
Lives there a man so firm, who, while his heart
Can reason down its agonizing throbs;
And, after proper purpose of amendment,
Can firmly force his jarring thoughts to peace?
O happy, happy, enviable man!
O glorious magnanimity of soul!
EPITAPH ON WM. HOOD, SENR., IN TARBOLTON
HERE Souter Hood in death does sleep;
To hell if he's gane thither,
Satan, gie him thy gear to keep;
He'll haud it weel thegither.
EPITAPH ON JAMES GRIEVE, LAIRD OF
HERE lies Boghead amang the dead
But if such as he in Heav'n may be,
EPITAPH ON MY OWN FRIEND AND MY FATHER'S FRIEND, WM. MUIR IN TARBOLTON MILL
AN honest man here lies at rest
As e'er God with his image blest;
The friend of man, the friend of truth,
EPITAPH ON MY EVER HONOURED FATHER
O YE whose cheek the tear of pity stains,
Draw near with pious rev'rence, and attend! Here lie the loving husband's dear remains, The tender father, and the gen'rous friend; The pitying heart that felt for human woe,
The dauntless heart that fear'd no human pride; The friend of man-to vice alone a foe;
For "ev'n his failings lean'd to virtue's side.""
BALLAD ON THE AMERICAN WAR
WHEN Guilford good our pilot stood
An' did our hellim thraw, man,
Ae night, at tea, began a plea,
Then thro' the lakes Montgomery takes,
Poor Tammy Gage within a cage
1 Goldsmith.-R. B.
Wi' sword an' gun he thought a sin
Guid Christian bluid to draw, man; But at New-York, wi' knife an' fork, Sir-Loin he hackèd sma', man.
Burgoyne gaed up, like spur an' whip,
Cornwallis fought as lang's he dought,
Then Montague, an' Guilford too,
And Sackville dour, wha stood the stour,
An' Charlie Fox threw by the box,
Then Rockingham took up the game,
Saint Stephen's boys, wi' jarring noise,
An' bore him to the wa', man.
Then clubs an' hearts were Charlie's cartes,
Till the diamond's ace, of Indian race,
Behind the throne then Granville's gone,
An' Chatham's wraith, in heav'nly graith,
Wi' kindling eyes, cry'd, "Willie, rise!
But, word an' blow, North, Fox, and Co.
An' Caledon threw by the drone,
An' swoor fu' rude, thro' dirt an' bluid,
To mak it guid in law, man.
REPLY TO AN ANNOUNCEMENT BY J. RANKINE
I AM a keeper of the law
In some sma' points, altho' not a';
Ae way or ither,
The breaking of ae point, tho' sma',
I hae been in for't ance or twice,
But now a rumour's like to rise
A whaup 's i' the nest!