EPISTLE TO DAVIE

They gie the wit of age to youth;
They let us ken oursel';
They make us see the naked truth,
The real guid and ill:

Tho' losses an' crosses
Be lessons right severe,

There's wit there, ye'll get there,
Ye'll find nae other where.

But tent me, Davie, ace o' hearts!
(To say aught less wad wrang the cartes,"
And flatt'ry I detest)

This life has joys for you and I;
An' joys that riches ne'er could buy,
An' joys the very best.

There's a' the pleasures o' the heart,
The lover an' the frien';

Ye hae your Meg, your dearest part,
And I my darling Jean!

It warms me, it charms me,
To mention but her name:
It heats me, it beets me,
An' sets me a' on flame!

O all ye Pow'rs who rule above!
O Thou whose very self art love!
Thou know'st my words sincere!
The life-blood streaming thro' my heart,
Or my more dear immortal part,
Is not more fondly dear!
When heart-corroding care and grief
Deprive my soul of rest,
Her dear idea brings relief,
And solace to my breast.
Thou Being, All-seeing,
O hear my fervent pray'r;
Still take her, and make her
Thy most peculiar care!

All hail! ye tender feelings dear!
The smile of love, the friendly tear,
The sympathetic glow !

Long since, this world's thorny ways
Had number'd out my weary days,
Had it not been for you!

Fate still has blest me with a friend,
In ev'ry care and ill;

And oft a more endearing band-
A tie more tender still.

It lightens, it brightens
The tenebrific scene,

To meet with, and greet with
My Davie, or my Jean!

O, how that name inspires my style!
The words come skelpin, rank an' file,
Amaist before I ken!

The ready measure rins as fine,
As Phoebus an' the famous Nine
Were glowrin owre my pen.
My spaviet Pegasus will limp,
Till ance he's fairly het;

And then he'll hilch, and stilt, an' jimp,b

And rin an unco fit :"

⚫ rushing.

But least then the beast then
Should rue this hasty ride,
I'll light now, and dight now
His sweaty, wizen'd hide.

c run a wonderful pace.

b hobble, hop, and jump. d wipe.

HOLY WILLIE'S PRAYER

Holy Willie's Prayer.1

"And send the godly in a pet to pray."-POPE.

ARGUMENT.-Holy Willie was a rather oldish bachelor elder, in the parish of Mauchline, and much and justly famed for that polemical chattering, which ends in tippling orthodoxy, and for that spiritualized bawdry which refines to liquorish devotion. In a sessional process with a gentleman in Mauchline-a Mr Gavin Hamilton-Holy Willie and his priest, Father Auld, after full hearing in the presbytery of Ayr, came off but second best; owing partly to the oratorical powers of Mr Robert Aiken, Mr Hamilton's counsel; but chiefly to Mr Hamilton's being one of the most irreproachable and truly respectable characters in the county. On losing the process, the muse overheard him [Holy Willie] at his devotions, as follows:

O THOU, who in the heavens does dwell,

Who, as it pleases best Thysel',

Sends ane to heaven an' ten to hell,

A' for Thy glory,

And no for ony gude or ill

They've done afore Thee!

I bless and praise Thy matchless might,
When thousands Thou hast left in night,
That I am here afore Thy sight,

For gifts an' grace

A burning and a shining light
To a' this place.

What was I, or my generation,
That I should get sic exaltation,
I wha deserve most just damnation
For broken laws,

Five thousand years ere my creation,
Thro' Adam's cause.

When frae my mither's womb I fell,
Thou might hae plunged me in hell,
To gnash my gums, to weep and wail,
In burnin lakes,

Where damned devils roar and yell,

Chain'd to their stakes.

Yet I am here a chosen sample,
To show thy grace is great and ample;
I'm here a pillar o' Thy temple,

Strong as a rock,

A guide, a buckler, and example,

To a' Thy flock.

O L-d, Thou kens what zeal I bear, When drinkers drink, an' swearers swear, An' singin there, an' dancin here,

Wi' great and sma';

For I am keepit by Thy fear

Free frae them a'.

But yet, O L-d! confess I must,
At times I'm fash'd wi' fleshly lust:
An' sometimes, too, in warldly trust,
Vile self gets in;

But Thou remembers we are dust,
Defil'd wi' sin.

O L-d! yestreen, Thou kens, wi' MegThy pardon I sincerely beg,

HOLY WILLIE'S PRAYER

O! may't ne'er be a livin plague

To my dishonour,

An' I'll ne'er lift a lawless leg

Again upon her.

Besides, I farther maun allow,

Wi' Leezie's lass, three times I trow-
But L-d, that Friday I was fou,&

When I cam near her;

Or else, Thou kens, Thy servant true
Wad never steerb her.

Maybe Thou lets this fleshly thorn
Buffet Thy servant e'en and morn,
Lest he owre proud and high shou'd turn,
That he's sae gifted:

If sae, Thy han' maun e'en be borne,
Until Thou lift it.

L-d, bless Thy chosen in this place,
For here Thou hast a chosen race:
But G-d confound their stubborn face,
An' blast their name,

Wha bring Thy elders to disgrace

An' public shame.

L-d, mind Gaw'n Hamilton's deserts;
He drinks, an' swears, an' plays at cartes,
Yet has sae mony takin arts,

Wi' great and sma',

Frae G-d's ain priest the people's hearts

He steals awa.

An' when we chasten'd him therefor,

Thou kens how he bred sic a splore,

An' set the warld in a roar

O' laughing at us;

Curse Thou his basket and his store,

Kaild an' potatoes.

• drunk.

▷ disturb.

• disturbance.

I cabbage.