Poems of Allan Ramsay 9781474456814

Table of contents :
CONTENTS
Acknowledgements
Abbreviations
General Editor’s Preface
Biography of Allan Ramsay
VOL II
Introduction to Poems
Text
Poems 1721
Poems 1728
Notes
Poems 1721
Poems 1728
Index of First Lines
Front Matter 2
VOL III
Abbreviations
Uncollected Poems
Dubia
Notes
Glossary
Bibliography
Index of First Lines

Citation preview

THE EDINBURGH EDITION OF THE COLLECTED WORKS OF ALLAN RAMSAY POEMS 1721 & 1728

The Edinburgh Edition of the Collected Works of Allan Ramsay

General Editor Murray Pittock Available The Gentle Shepherd (Vol. I) Steve Newman and David McGuinness (eds.) The Poems of Allan Ramsay (Vols. II & III) Rhona Brown (ed.) Forthcoming The Tea-Table Miscellany (Vol. IV) Murray Pittock and Brianna E. Robertson-Kirkland The Prose of Allan Ramsay (Vol. V) Rhona Brown and Craig Lamont (eds.) The Ever Green (Vol. VI) Murray Pittock and James J. Caudle (eds.)

THE EDINBURGH EDITION of

THE COLLECTED WORKS of ALLAN RAMSAY General Editor Murray Pittock

POEMS 1721 & 1728 Edited by Rhona Brown

Edinburgh University Press is one of the leading university presses in the UK. We publish academic books and journals in our selected subject areas across the humanities and social sciences, combining cutting-edge scholarship with high editorial and production values to produce academic works of lasting importance. For more information visit our website: edinburghuniversitypress.com © editorial matter and organisation Murray Pittock and Rhona Brown, 2023 © Ramsay biography Rhona Brown, 2023 © the text in this edition Edinburgh University Press, 2023 Edinburgh University Press Ltd The Tun – Holyrood Road, 12(2f) Jackson’s Entry, Edinburgh EH8 8PJ Typeset in Constantia by Craig Lamont printed and bound in Great Britain. A CIP record for this book is available from the British Library ISBN 978 1 4744 5680 7 (hardback) ISBN 978 1 4744 5681 4 (webready PDF) ISBN 978 1 4744 5682 1 (epub) The right of Rhona Brown to be identified as the editor of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, and the Copyright and Related Rights Regulations 2003 (SI No. 2498).

CONTENTS

VOL II Acknowledgements i Abbreviations iii General Editor’s Preface v Biography of Allan Ramsay xvii Introduction to Poems 1 Text Poems 1721 33 Poems 1728 227 Notes Poems 1721 433 Poems 1728 545 Index of First Lines 753 VOL III Abbreviations i Uncollected Poems 1 Dubia 212 Notes 219 Glossary 401 Bibliography 425 Index of First Lines 441

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

My grateful thanks are due to the editorial team for the Arts and Humanities Research Council-funded project, The Collected Works of Allan Ramsay. I owe a debt of gratitude to the edition’s General Editor and Principal Investigator, Murray Pittock, for his advice, support, motivation and friendship throughout the process. My thanks are also due to James Caudle, David McGuinness and Steve Newman, who were always willing to discuss the knotty textual and bibliographical challenges of editing Ramsay’s work. I am particularly grateful to the project’s Research Associates: to Craig Lamont, without whose meticulous textual research this edition would not have been possible, and to Brianna Robertson-Kirkland, whose knowledge of eighteenthcentury musical resources matches her efficiency and professionalism. Beyond the Ramsay team, I am grateful to my colleagues in the Centre for Robert Burns Studies in Scottish Literature at the University of Glasgow: Carol Baraniuk, Gerard Carruthers, Nigel Leask, Pauline Mackay, Kirsteen McCue and Ronnie Young. I also acknowledge the generosity of Helen Smailes, Patrick Scott, Jeremy Smith and Bill Zachs, and all who have provided assistance along the way. My thanks are also due to staff at the repositories where Ramsay’s manuscripts are held: I am particularly grateful to colleagues at the National Library of Scotland, especially Ralph McLean and Robert Betteridge. At the National Records of Scotland, I am grateful to Alison Lindsay, the Head of Historical and Legal Search Rooms, and to Sir Robert Clerk, who granted us permission to work with his collections there. At Edinburgh University Press, Michelle Houston provided invaluable advice and encouragement. My final thanks go to my family and friends, especially Jim, Janice, Eileen and Jacqueline, who have supported me with good humour and endless patience.

Rhona Brown University of Glasgow

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ABBREVIATIONS BL

British Library

DOST Dictionary of the Older Scottish Tongue DSL

Dictionaries of the Scots Language

EUL Edinburgh University Library GS HoP MS

Allan Ramsay, The Gentle Shepherd (1725) The History of Parliament: British Political, Social and Local History manuscript

MSS manuscripts NLS NRS

National Library of Scotland, Edinburgh National Records of Scotland, Edinburgh

OED Oxford English Dictionary ODNB Oxford Dictionary of National Biography SND STS

Scottish National Dictionary The Works of Allan Ramsay, 6 vols., ed. Burns Martin, John W. Oliver, Alexander M. Kinghorn, and Alexander Law. Edinburgh: Scottish Text Society, 1944-74.

TTM Allan Ramsay, The Tea-Table Miscellany, 3 vols. (1723, 1726, 1727)

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GENERAL EDITOR’S PREFACE

The Collected Works of Allan Ramsay is an international project which brings the works of this foundationally important poet, dramatist, song collector, theatre owner, cultural leader in art and music, and innovative cultural entrepreneur in many spheres from language to libraries, into print as a whole for the first time. There has only ever been one previous edition of Ramsay’s work, produced for the Scottish Text Society (STS) in six volumes. Volumes I (1944) and II (1953) were edited by Burns Martin and John Walter Oliver; Volume III (1961), IV (1970), V (1972) and VI (1974) were all edited by Alexander Kinghorn and Alexander Law. The STS edition thus lacked a consistent editorial team; it also lacks consistency in editorial policy and teamwork: for example, Martin and Oliver ‘never met’ and both died in the 1950s (STS VI: vii). As has long been recognized, the STS edition lacks the fidelity and scrutiny appropriate to a textual edition. The Index for English Literary Manuscripts entry on Ramsay, published in 1992, notes the serious limitations and inadequacy of STS as a scholarly text in uncompromising terms: ‘…deeply flawed as a scholarly edition. It is badly organised; its transcription of MSS…is unacceptably inaccurate; its contents pages, titling, indexes and apparatus are variously inadequate, inconsistent and error-ridden’ (IELM II: 3, 172). Moreover, the STS edition is extremely rare (even the British Library lacks two volumes) and large areas of Ramsay’s oeuvre (including the critically important Ever Green and Tea-Table Miscellany) were simply not included in it at all, despite its claim to incorporate his ‘entire writings’ (STS VI: vii). On the other hand, some work transparently not by Ramsay, such as The Journal of the Easy Club, was included, despite the original MS of the Journal not being available. Other than this edition, the only Ramsay in print was a 1985 anthology based on STS done for Scottish Academic Press, which has been unavailable for many years. Ramsay has undoubtedly been short-changed by British literary history, suffering from the triple disadvantage of being a patriotically Scottish literary figure, a perceived avatar of Burns and - perhaps most seriously - a fox rather than a hedgehog: someone good at many things, not known above all for one, and thus a source of the mixture v

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of egalitarianism and jealousy which leads human beings to be reluctant to countenance giving anyone credit in multiple spheres. Yet this is undoubtedly what Ramsay deserves. I have long been interested in his multiple talents: initially appointed as the Research Associate on Ramsay by the Index of English Literary Manuscripts in 1988, I subsequently wrote on him at length in various publications, including The Invention of Scotland (1991, 2014, 2016); Poetry and Jacobite Politics in Eighteenth-Century Britain and Ireland (1994, 2006); Scottish and Irish Romanticism (2008, 2011) and Enlightenment in a Smart City (2019) as well as contributing his biography to the Oxford DNB. In 2015, the Royal Society of Edinburgh awarded me a two year grant on Allan Ramsay and the Enlightenment in Edinburgh, which gave rise to initial website resources including an interactive map of central Edinburgh, a tourist trail and the development of the annual Allan Ramsay Festival in Ramsay Country in the Scottish Borders.1 In 2017, the Arts and Humanities Research Council made a £1M award to support a collected Ramsay edition in five volumes, under contract with Edinburgh University Press. The team include myself as general editor and co-editor of The Tea-Table Miscellany and The Ever Green; Rhona Brown (Glasgow) as editor of Poems and co-editor of Prose; David McGuinness (Glasgow) as co-editor of The Gentle Shepherd and Tea-Table Miscellany; Steve Newman (Temple) as co-editor of The Gentle Shepherd; Craig Lamont (Glasgow) as Research Associate and co-editor of Prose; Brianna Robertson-Kirkland (Glasgow/Royal Conservatoire of Scotland) as Research Associate in Music and co-editor of The Tea-Table Miscellany; and James J. Caudle (Glasgow), the former Associate Editor of the Yale Boswell, as Research Associate and co-editor of The Ever Green. Daniel Szechi (University of Manchester) is also part of the core edition team, and there is also a Knowledge Exchange team, consisting of Lucinda Lax and Helen Smailes (National Gallery of Scotland (NGS)), Jennifer Melville (National Trust for Scotland (NTS)) and Ralph McLean (National Library of Scotland (NLS)). The NGS have incorporated images of Ramsay’s work as well as paintings by his son (Allan Ramsay (1713–84)) into the layout of the ‘Edinburgh’s Enlightenment 1680-1750’ website at the University of Glasgow: https://www.gla.ac.uk/schools/critical/research/ researchcentresandnetworks/robertburnsstudies/edinburghenlightenment/ introductionguide.

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new Scottish Gallery and associated collections; the NLS held an exhibition on Ramsay in 20202 and the NTS have redeveloped Gladstone’s Land, only about 200m from Ramsay’s Gusepye House on the Castlehill and his shop on the Lawnmarket. Gladstone’s Land was a building Ramsay knew well. In addition, Rosemary Brown, the landlady of the Allan Ramsay Hotel in Carlops, has hosted the Allan Ramsay Festival, supported by Pub is the Hub UK, Stewart’s Brewery, Cockburn’s of Leith, John Kennedy of Newhall, who has embedded a ‘Gentle Shepherd’ theme in his Newhall wedding venue, and Sir Robert and Lady Clerk of Penicuik. The Ramsay Edition also supported the installation of a Historic Environment Scotland plaque, unveiled in 2016 by Christine Graham MSP, to mark the Hotel’s central position role in Ramsay Country. The legend – supplied by the General Editor – reads ‘Allan Ramsay/ 1684–1758/ Founding Father of Scottish Romanticism/ & Modern Scottish Poetry /Author of the Pastoral Drama/The Gentle Shepherd/Set Near This Place’. A short biography of Ramsay by Dr Rhona Brown precedes each volume of this edition. Within the life outlined there, Ramsay’s achievements were such as to rehabilitate Scots as a poetic language and to make the tradition which succeeded him possible. What was the nature of that achievement? First, his range as a poet is remarkable. His conception of Scots as ‘Doric’ and his championing - particularly in The Gentle Shepherd - of Scotland as a real location for pastoral, a pastoral nation which was substantive and not imaginary, derived from a powerful reinterpretation of the ‘Doric lay’ of Lycidas and its ‘Sicilian Muse’ (Theocritus) as not an imaginary zone for classical rhetoric but one reflective of the language and society of a modern country, Scotland, and one whose pastoral operetta is specifically located within a relatively small area of rural Lothian farmland. In 1713, Basil Kennet had compared Scots song to Theocritus in his Idylls of Theocritus and this was a connexion which Ramsay pursued. In this context, Ramsay pioneered the use of the term ‘Doric’ to describe Scots, in so doing claiming the relation of Scots to English as that of two variants, rather than presenting Scots as a variation from the National Library of Scotland: NLS website: https://www.nls.uk/exhibitions/ treasures/allan-ramsay. 2

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standard. ‘Doric’ pastoral and ‘Attic’ urbanity were two linguistic approaches to reality, and both deserved their place. In The Ever Green (1724), Ramsay appealed for a return to Scottish tradition which he exemplified in the collecting, editing and composing of work in Middle Scots that followed, and which served to curate if not create a tradition of poetry in Scots reaching back centuries. Like the Attic, the Doric too was not merely a mode of expression, but was art and part of a literary tradition. Ramsay’s friend Sir John Clerk of Penicuik had claimed that ‘Middle Scots was “genuine Saxon” in its purest form’ and The Ever Green was Ramsay’s exemplification of that position through the demonstration and creation of a literary tradition. Just as Scots had – as Ramsay had argued in the Preface to his 1721 Poems – a greater range in vocabulary than English, it was also possessed of a discrete history and grammatical integrity as a language expressive of a national culture, one he pronounced defiantly to be still ‘Ever Green’. Ramsay followed Thomas Ruddiman (1674–1757), the protégé of his friend Archibald Pitcairne, in producing a glossary for his Scots, one which on occasion bowdlerized the meaning of the earthier Doric for a polite audience (Duncan 1965, 170-71; Pittock 2019, 167). Ramsay thus reached a wider audience in Scots, something that had barely been done before. Building on the controversy between Pope and Ambrose Philips as to the extent that pastoral should represent what Wordsworth was to call ‘the real language of men’, in the 1800 Preface to Lyrical Ballads, Ramsay found a route to ground this language in the vernacular (using for example some 1500 Scots words) and simultaneously render it polite by the use of conventional high cultural genres, English-Scots rhyme words to guide the reader and a glossary of Scots, presented on occasion in bowdlerized form. In so doing he blended Addison’s aesthetic commitment to ‘a taste for polite writing’ (Spectator, 7 May 1711) with the English author’s ‘delight in hearing the songs and fables that...are most in vogue among the common people’ (Spectator, 21 May 1711). In promoting Poems (published in two volumes in quarto in 1721 and 1728), Ramsay acquired a stupendous and (until now) unexamined list of subscribers for work in Scots to a British audience. The current author and Daniel Szechi are currently working on an article on the prosopography of the subscription list. The Preface to Ramsay’s 1721 Poems explicitly states the naturalness of Scots to both Ramsay as an individual and to the wider viii

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community (‘That I have exprest my Thought in my native Dialect, was not only my Inclination, but the Desire of my best and wisest Friends’) and the supremacy of Scots over English, ‘our Tongue by far the completest’). The social status of Ramsay’s subscription list no doubt helped to bolster the appeal to ‘Friends’ to imply that this was a judgement of no cosy coterie, but of the best judges. Yet while some of the poems are fully Scots, others are hardly so and yet others are barely Scots at all in their language. The duodecimo Tea-Table Miscellany which followed from 1723 might hint in its format at the air of the autochthonous and informal, but this was misleading: for the ‘Scots Sangs’ of its tradition were extensively culled from the London prints and stage, and very few of them were Scots in the later volumes in particular. Yet at the same time, Ramsay presented Scots song for the first time as having a history, a suitable subject for future Museums and Relics, and the expression of a genuine tradition. Ever since Ramsay wrote, it has been assumed that Scottish song is possessed of such a tradition. Originally apprenticed as a wigmaker (and a speedily successful one, judging by the 1711-12 stent roll assessments), Ramsay went on to be a dealer and auctioneer in coins, books, pictures, medals, watches, clocks, rugs, jewels, silver plate and arms.3 A member of the Music Club by 1720, Ramsay supplied it with sheet music, thus expanding his commercial base. Through his contacts there and its successor Musical Society, Ramsay found a way to situate his ‘native’ song collection within the increasingly mixed and hybridized repertoire of Scots song. The Musical Society (1728) included several subscribers to Ramsay’s Poems, and ordered music from Ramsay’s shop. Within the new European market for music, Ramsay was collecting and republishing the acceptably cosmopolitan under the guise of its being an access point to the native and autochthonous, and Scottish literature has benefited from his intervention here ever since, even though a chimera called ‘the folk tradition’ has long stood in for the realities of early modern print transmission from multiple sources. The Caledonian Mercury, 25 November 1736 announcing the 20 January 1737 Auction of valuable Books and other articles as well as Ramsay’s Scots Proverbs, ‘just published’ (the normal date of publication for these is given as 1737, which may suggest that their release was held back until the date of the auction).

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In 1725, Ramsay created the first effective subscription library in the British Isles, probably based on an innovative reinterpretation of the booksellers’ practice of renting out expensive and slow moving stock: one of the few surviving bookseller’s day books from the era shows Ramsay renting out such stock in 1715 (Pittock 2019, 240-41). When his library opened, for the price of 10s a year Ramsay also opened reading to whole new markets, not least women, and this drew the wrath of some, such as Robert Wodrow (1679–1734), the Covenanter apologist whose phrase ‘the Killing Times’ became widely accepted as a description of the conflict between religious zealots and the state under the later Stuarts. In 1729 Ramsay co-founded the Academy of St Luke, the first art school in Scotland, with the goal of furthering his son’s career and perhaps also that of arresting the declining number of painters in Scotland since the Union. In 1736–7, he attempted to found a permanent theatre for Edinburgh at Carrubber’s Close, building on his work leading the City’s ‘Company of Comedians’ in 1732. It was a location for what may have been another Ramsay innovation in the shape of the development of season tickets and ‘early bird’ booking discounts. These sought to mitigate the risk that audiences would stay away from a play on its first night(s) to see what the reaction of others was, and thus inadvertently collapse the production. The city authorities - in general more the friends of Wodrow’s religious outlook than Ramsay’s moderate and Enlightened Presbyterianism - suppressed the theatre through a more zealous application of the 1737 Licensing Act than that practised in some English cities. Finally closed in 1739, Ramsay’s theatre was subsequently converted into a chapel. Ramsay was concerned by the cost of his failed theatrical experiment, as well he might be, having spent a considerable amount of money in the 1730s to build the Guse Pye, his house on Castlehill which now forms the core of Ramsay Garden. His house and shop in the Lawnmarket, bought for £570 in 1725, was for a number of years ‘the rendezvous for the wits of the city’, forming one of the early core locales of the Enlightenment, together with taverns like Don’s and Balfour’s (Bushnell 1957, 16, 40; Pittock 2019, 87 and passim). Ramsay’s achievements were commemorated in his own lifetime. In 1741, the Allan Ramsay Library in Leadhills was founded by the local miners and senior staff in the lead mine and from the town including James Stirling FRS, the formidable mathematician who since 1734 had managed the Scots Mining Company, his Jacobitism x

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disqualifying him from more elite pursuits. There were at least two plans to commemorate Ramsay in Edinburgh with a monument in Canongate Kirkyard or via a statue ‘for the roof of the Ragged School in Ramsay Lane’, but these came to nothing (Andrew 2016, 65). The poet was however commemorated on the Scott Monument and the Usher Hall, and most prominently by Sir John Steell’s 1865 statue on Princes Street, Edinburgh, itself based on the 1729 sketch of the poet by his son (Scotsman, 24 November 1855). The statue itself stands directly in front of Ramsay Garden, the development designed by Sir Patrick Geddes (1854–1932) round Ramsay’s house at Ramsay Lodge during 1890–93 in tribute to his predecessor as Enlightenment polymath. Used as a residence of the University of Edinburgh, in the Ramsay Lodge area the house rules were to be drawn up by the students themselves. The painter John Duncan (1866–1945) provided murals for the interior and later became the main illustrator for Geddes’ journal The Evergreen (1895–97), which was itself a tribute to Allan Ramsay’s volume of the same name, which had helped to create a national tradition for form and vocabulary in Scots writing. The new edition sets out to foreground the work of the poet as never before, while its accompanying monograph, Enlightenment in a Smart City (2019), explores Ramsay’s work as a cultural entrepreneur and its effect on the Scottish Enlightenment. But there has of course also been a considerable scholarly response to Ramsay since his death in 1758, some of which is captured in the Bibliography and Reception sections of the project website; Rhona Brown’s ‘Allan Ramsay and Robert Fergusson’ (Oxford Bibliographies Online, 2012) is currently the best available general bibliography, though a good deal of new research on Ramsay has come into print in recent years, including special editions of the Scottish Literary Review (10: 1, 2018) and Studies in Scottish Literature (46: 2, 2020). Ramsay’s writing went through numerous editions, not least the Tea-Table Miscellany and The Gentle Shepherd, which appeared with illustrations by David Allan in 1788. In 1799, Joseph Ritson proposed an edition of Ramsay’s works as ‘the untutored child of nature & of genius’, an interesting persistence of the Miltonic characterization of Shakespeare from L’Allegro, which Henry Mackenzie had recently applied to Burns (Bronson 1938, I: 232). In the late 1840s the prolific Victorian editor, Alexander Grosart, considered producing an edition of Ramsay, which was never completed. A Selected Ramsay was produced by J. Logie Robertson in 1887, and a xi

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short and inaccurate biography by Oliphant Smeaton in 1896 in the Famous Scots series. Ramsay was frequently aligned with Burns as a founding father of Scottish poetry: at the Newcastle Burns Centenary celebrations in 1859 for example, a whole exhibition room was given over to Fergusson, Ramsay and Burns. The full Textual Policy of the edition is available on our website.4 With regard to the Poems (1721 and 1728, incorporating earlier collections), Ever Green (1724) and the Tea-table Miscellany (TTM, 1723, 1726, 1730, 1737), each major collection of Ramsay’s will appear separately as first issued, with miscellaneous printed poems or songs not included in collections of poems or those which appeared in print separately appearing in the edition following on from the main print collections. This Uncollected section will be listed by the date of appearance where possible, and miscellaneous MS poems which did not appear in print in Ramsay’s lifetime under his name and are not in his hand will normally appear in Dubia. Where - as in the case of Poems and the Miscellany - there are multiple volumes to accommodate, chronological and volume integrity will be preserved where these were present in the original publication of history. The recreation of the experience of the volume as it initially appeared will be paramount, which will involve the reproduction of the 1725 Gentle Shepherd text in the Poems of 1728, although major textual issues and annotation and above all its musical notes will in large part be reserved to the Gentle Shepherd volume (which will include both the 1725 and 1729 texts) to reduce duplication. Notes on Ramsay’s poems and songs follow a first collection basis: the Note will normally be most detailed in the volume in which the text first appeared. In the case of material in the edition which did not appear under Ramsay’s name in print in Ramsay’s lifetime (for example letters or newly identified contributions to periodicals), the original MS or periodical publication text will be the copytext. In all these cases the text will be edited completely afresh, and there will be no dependence on previous printings. If there is more than one surviving MS, then the chronologically prior MS will be used with collated variants from the other MS recorded in the Notes. Collations note redactions and University of Glasgow: https://www.gla.ac.uk/schools/critical/research/ researchcentresandnetworks/robertburnsstudies/edinburghenlightenment/ theeditorialteam.

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cancellations as well as substantive and accidental changes. In cases where two or more MSS exist and neither/none can be shown to be chronologically prior, both or all will normally be printed. Obituaries, Elegies and Poems on Ramsay may appear in the Reception area of the website, except where Ramsay answers or initiates an exchange himself or where such poems are included in his texts, in which case they may be incorporated into the edition. In terms of collation, the following will be collated and will appear as a unified entry in the Notes, where textual variants (including accidentals) will precede Notes on the text or issues to be glossed or interpreted: • • •

All MS variants in Ramsay’s hand including accidentals Published variants prior to the first collected edition authorized by Ramsay or likely to have been so authorized as above In the case of Christ’s Kirk and other poetry where Ramsay used e.g. the Bannatyne MS but which were not in the first instance by Ramsay, a summary of major textual changes undertaken by Ramsay.

The ‘1720’ Poems, which exists in several inconsistent copies, some of which include material dated later than 1720, will be discarded. The evidence that these were pirated gatherings of previously (and sometimes subsequently!) printed material is too strong, both in terms of the inconsistency of surviving copies with each other, and the sheer unlikelihood that Ramsay would have authorized an edition of his poems without subscription months before he unveiled one with a pan British subscription list drawn from the highest ranks of society. When there is more than one impression of the first edition, where possible the text printed for Ramsay to sell in his shop should have precedence: in determining this case, his relationship with both the engraver Richard Cooper (1701–64) and the printer and grammarian Thomas Ruddiman (1674–1757) is understood as central. Substantive changes in subsequent published editions which Ramsay was clearly engaged in in Ramsay’s lifetime will be recorded in the Notes as will marginalia by his son and Shenstone (this only applies in the case of the Gentle Shepherd) and himself, together with variant MS readings if applicable. A modern print glossary will also be provided in each volume, based on Ramsay’s Glossary where possible, with definitions from Jamieson’s Dictionary or (in the event xiii

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of no Jamieson’s entry) the Dictionary of the Scots Language for comparison. Where there are extensive musicological notes there will be a separate Music bibliography which utilizes musicological bibliographical conventions. With regard to music, detailed consideration will be given to sources of tunes from before the first appearance of the copytext; other sources no later than 1758 may appear in the Notes by way of providing supporting context when they shed light on the earlier history of the tune, or when no sources prior to the publication of the copytext are extant. Small variances between readings will be described in the critical commentary, and significantly diverse readings, whether in musical style or content, will be presented in full. What follows will do for Allan Ramsay what has never been done, which is to take him seriously as an editor and literary innovator as well as an author: and it will help him reclaim the central place in the development of the literature of Scotland which is his due. This edition will provide both a comprehensive and a new Ramsay: innovative, experimental, dynamic and central to the intellectual life of Edinburgh and Scotland. It will also offer a comprehensive archaeology of the origins of his music and verse which will render his Scottishness a visibly relational artifact, strongly embedded in English and metropolitan song and the language of politeness, while in return exposing that very audience to hundreds of Scots words and many double entendres of language and reference with their roots in Scots. Ramsay will be displayed as the man who brought a new dimension of cosmopolitan engagement to Scottish writing and song under the guise of defending its native traditions, and in doing so, strengthened them and gave them a place in the British imaginary. The Collected Edition of the Works of Allan Ramsay will present the artfulness of the collector, editor, author and cultural entrepreneur as never before. Murray Pittock University of Glasgow

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Allan Ramsay, 1684–1758. Poet (1729) by Allan Ramsay the younger (1713–84) National Galleries of Scotland

ALLAN RAMSAY (c. 1684–1758)

Poet, playwright, song-collector, antiquarian, editor, bookseller and early Enlightenment entrepreneur Allan Ramsay was born on 15 October, probably in 1684, at Leadhills, Lanarkshire, to John Ramsay (c.1660–1685) and Alice Bower (d.1700). When his father, a superintendent of the lead mines on the Hope family estate, died in Ramsay’s infancy, his mother married local bonnet laird Andrew Crichton. Ramsay was probably educated at the parish school of Crawfordmuir until the time of his mother’s death, when he was in his mid-teens. In early 1701, Ramsay moved to Edinburgh to undertake an apprenticeship in wig-making. He received back his indentures from his employer around 1709, opened his own periwig business, and was appointed a burgess of the city on 19 July 1710. Ramsay’s move to Edinburgh developed his intense interest in the literature of Scotland, both past and present, and Jacobite satirist, Latinist and physician Archibald Pitcairne (1652–1713) was a significant early influence. The style of The Assembly and Babel, Pitcairne’s satires on the Presbyterian church, would help Ramsay hone his own poetic voice even if he did not share Pitcairne’s anti-Presbyterian sentiment. Furthermore, Pitcairne’s protégé, the printer and classical scholar Thomas Ruddiman (1674–1757), would become Ramsay’s chief publisher. James Watson’s Choice Collection of Comic and Serious Scots Poems, both Ancient and Modern (1706, 1709, 1711) was an influential favourite, which introduced Ramsay to enduring Scottish literary forms, metres and styles, as well as the ways in which the Scottish canon could be anthologised. Contained within Watson’s Collection is William Hamilton of Gilbertfield’s (1665?–1751) ‘The Dying Words of Bonny Heck, A Famous Grey-Hound in the Shire of Fife’. This text, with its mock-tragic comedy and Standard Habbie verse form – named after Robert Sempill of Beltrees’s (1595?–1663?) poem ‘The Life and Death of Habbie Simson, the Piper of Kilbarchan’ – helped Ramsay to crystallise his own literary style and Scots vernacular poetic mode. His early publication, the ‘Elegy on Maggy Johnston’, which borrows tone and form from Sempill and Hamilton, was probably written in 1711. Around this time too, Ramsay plunged himself into the cultural and literary life of Edinburgh. He was a founding member of xvii

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the city’s Easy Club, which was established in May 1712 and modelled on the London Spectator Club formed by contemporary poets Joseph Addison (1672–1719) and Richard Steele (1672–1729). Early eighteenth-century Edinburgh was awash with gentleman’s clubs, and the Easy Club was part of the city’s convivial scene. Its members were principally young men keen to develop their credentials as ‘gentlemen’, and the Club provided an ‘easy’ and sympathetic space in which to share and discuss literary compositions. One of Ramsay’s earliest published works, ‘A Poem to the Memory of the Famous Archibald Pitcairn’, was printed by the Club probably in late 1713, following Pitcairne’s death on 20 October and around the time when Ramsay was elected as the Club’s Praeses, or President. Pitcairne’s death may also have prompted an Easy Club decision to adjust their convention of referring to themselves and each other by pseudonyms when in attendance at the Club. Following Pitcairne’s death, and at the time when Ramsay was about to take the chair, members ‘unanimously resolv’d in warm expressions by each that none of this club shall have English but Scots patrons’. Ramsay’s club pseudonym therefore changed from Isaac Bickerstaff – after Steele’s fictitious editor of The Tatler – to Gavin Douglas (c.1474–1522), Bishop of Dunkeld, poet and translator, known for his Eneados, a Scots translation of Virgil’s Aeneid, which had been republished in an influential edition by Thomas Ruddiman in 1710. Ramsay was appointed Easy Club Poet Laureate in early 1715, and the society was dissolved in the same year. The Easy Club has been associated with Jacobitism and anti-Unionism, both of which are seen clearly in Ramsay’s ‘Poem to Pitcairne’, which portrays ‘those who their Country Sold’ in 1707 floating in ‘a Pool of Boyling Gold’ in the afterlife. Perhaps due to the increasing danger associated with professing Jacobite convictions, Ramsay never republished the poem in his lifetime, and it was not rediscovered until 1979. In the same year as the Easy Club’s foundation, in December 1712, Ramsay married Christian Ross (d.1743), the daughter of writer (solicitor) Robert Ross and Elizabeth Archibald. Ramsay and Ross had many children, but only four survived into adulthood: three daughters, Janet, Catherine and Anne, who were bequeathed their father’s shop, and eldest son Allan Ramsay junior (1713–84), a prominent portrait painter who became official painter to George III in 1760. Throughout the 1710s, Ramsay continued to establish his literary reputation by releasing individual poems in broadside and chapxviii

Biography of Allan Ramsay

book formats. He published his Christ’s Kirk on the Green, which features an edited transcription of the original text in the Bannatyne Manuscript as well as stanzas of his own composition, for the first time in 1718. In the same year, he issued a collection of Scots Songs. By the end of the decade, Ramsay had abandoned wig-making and entered business as a bookseller and dealer in prints at Edinburgh. A ‘gather-up’ edition of Ramsay’s work to date was published in Edinburgh in 1720. However, recent research has cast doubt on whether Ramsay authorised this publication: in 1719, he made a complaint to the Edinburgh Town Council that his works were being pirated and, at the time of the ‘gather-up’s’ publication, he was preparing a subscribers’ edition of his Poems, which would be released in 1721. Given Ramsay’s entrepreneurial instincts, it is unlikely that he would have authorised the release of a poor-quality volume which had the potential to hurt the sales of his subscribers’ edition, about to be published in prestigious format by the influential Ruddiman. The subscribers’ edition of Ramsay’s Poems was a success, earning its author 400 guineas. In the early 1720s, Ramsay published a collection of Fables and Tales (1722), which features Scots translations of the fables of La Motte and La Fontaine and, in the same year, an anonymous dramatic poem entitled A Tale of Three Bonnets, which satirises those Scots who had taken Scotland into Union with England in 1707. His The Fair Assembly (1723) defends a local dancing assembly which had been targeted and denounced by Presbyterian commentators as profane and licentious. In 1723, Ramsay published the first volume of his The Tea-Table Miscellany: A Collection of Scots Songs (1723, 1726, 1727, 1737), an anthology of both contemporary and older songs in Scots and traditional ballads in which Ramsay worked as collector, editor and lyricist. An edition of his poem Health was published in 1724, alongside poems in tribute to the Royal Company of Archers, of which he had become a member that summer. In the same year, Ramsay enlarged on the success of his Christ’s Kirk on the Green, which had gone through at least five editions – some of which were authorised and some unauthorised – by publishing The Ever Green: being a Collection of Scots Poems, Wrote by the Ingenious before 1600. Ramsay treats the Bannatyne texts in the same way as he had approached the songs for The Tea-Table Miscellany: he regularly adapted the older texts he collected, adjusting them for his early-Enlightenment audience, and added work of his own: in The Ever Green, ‘The Vision’, which was probably written xix

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by Ramsay, is presented in a faux-medieval style. Ramsay’s interest in drama was evident from an early stage, in his composition of masques, dramatic dialogues and, later, prologues and epilogues for the theatre. In 1725, he published an early version of his pastoral play, The Gentle Shepherd, which took his fame to new heights with its instant popularity. Based on earlier pastoral poems Patie and Roger (1720) and Jenny and Meggy (1723), The Gentle Shepherd sets the pastoral drama in the countryside outside Edinburgh, puts Scots vernacular in the characters’ mouths, and explores Jacobite themes of exile and return through the character of Sir William Worthy. Throughout the 1720s, Ramsay developed The Gentle Shepherd by incorporating songs into the drama, first by referring readers to specific songs in The Tea-Table Miscellany, and finally printing the songs alongside the play’s dialogue in the edition of 1734. By this time, The Gentle Shepherd was a fully-developed ballad opera in the style of John Gay’s The Beggar’s Opera (1728). It enjoyed enormous success, being performed hundreds of times throughout Britain in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. In 1728, Ramsay released a second subscription volume of Poems which reveals the extent and prestige of his patronage networks at this time. As with Poems (1721), Ramsay’s subscribers included numerous prominent aristocrats, merchants and literary figures, such as Alexander Pope (1688–1744) and William Somerville (1675–1742). It is likely that Ramsay formed a friendship with poet and playwright John Gay (1685–1732) through their shared patronage by the Duke and Duchess of Queensberry: Ramsay was introduced to Gay’s work by the Duchess, and the two poets almost certainly met and conducted an epistolary relationship. Ramsay cemented his position as editor and gatekeeper of Scottish culture in the ensuing decade, issuing an additional anthology of fables in 1730, and A Collection of Scots Proverbs in 1737. At this point, and with his literary fame assured, Ramsay developed significant cultural initiatives alongside his editing, writing and bookselling. In around 1725, Ramsay moved his shop to the Luckenbooths, a prime position in central Edinburgh, where he opened the first circulating library in Britain. In the late 1720s, he published the anonymous Defence of Dramatic Entertainments, a prose piece which defends the theatre and actors in the context of virulent Presbyterian hostility to drama, before establishing his own theatre in Edinburgh’s xx

Biography of Allan Ramsay

Carrubber’s Close, which opened in November 1736. Ramsay staged numerous plays and pioneered the use of the season ticket, before a government statute was passed in 1737 which banned the staging of plays outside London except when the king was in residence. Ramsay battled to preserve his theatre, but was forced to close its doors in 1739. A decade earlier, Ramsay was one of the founders, perhaps with the assistance of his artist friend John Smibert (1688–1751), of the Academy of St Luke, an art academy for local painters including his own son, Allan, which was functional until the mid-1730s. By now, Ramsay had reduced his bookselling duties and turned his attention to the construction of a villa on Edinburgh’s Castle Hill, known colloquially as the ‘Goose Pie’ due to its octagonal shape, thereafter sharing the house with his wife Christian and son Allan. At the Jacobite Uprising of 1745, Ramsay, now widowed, left the city and stayed away for the duration of the action, probably lodging with his friend and patron Sir John Clerk of Penicuik; his house was nevertheless used as a base by the Jacobite army in his absence. Indeed, a portrait of Charles Edward Stuart, painted in Edinburgh by Ramsay’s son Allan Ramsay junior in late 1745, has recently been rediscovered and acquired by the Scottish National Portrait Gallery. Ramsay finally retired in 1755 at around the age of seventy-one, when his health had begun to decline. He died on 7 January 1758, and is buried in Edinburgh’s Greyfriars Kirkyard. In 1759, Ramsay’s name was inscribed on the obelisk built by Sir James Clerk on the Penicuik estate around 1756. In 1846, Ramsay’s image was included in the Scott Monument on Edinburgh’s Princes Street, and his own statue, on the corner of Princes Street Gardens and The Mound, was unveiled in 1865.

Rhona Brown University of Glasgow

xxi

INTRODUCTION

Allan Ramsay (1684–1758) was a true cultural polymath. As a poet, bookseller, librarian, editor, antiquarian, song-collector, songwriter, playwright and theatre-owner, he was central to Scotland’s literary scene in the early eighteenth century. His co-founding in 1729 of the Academy of St. Luke, the earliest art school in Scotland, demonstrates Ramsay as a sponsor of the visual arts and of Scottish painters.1 From the beginnings of his poetic career in the 1710s and through his myriad cultural enterprises, he was able to carve a place for himself at the heart of Scottish literary society, in a position of genuine and lasting influence. The ballad opera version of his pastoral play, The Gentle Shepherd (1729), brought him enduring success and fame, while The Tea-Table Miscellany (1723, 1726, 1727, 1737) and The Ever Green: being a Collection of Scots Poems, Wrote by the Ingenious before 1600 (1724) established Ramsay as a gate-keeper and preserver of older Scottish literary and song culture. His Edinburgh bookshop was a buzzing cultural hub. His opening of Britain’s first circulating library, probably in 1725, and his establishment of a theatre in the city’s Carrubber’s Close, reveal him as a cultural innovator. Ramsay’s modernising impulse was, however, simultaneously concerned with preserving and, indeed, continuing the use of the forms, metres and themes of Scotland’s literary past, as well as celebrating, defending and refurbishing the Scots language. In all of this, his own poetry, and his self-consciously curated persona as a Scots poet and original genius, are of fundamental significance. Ramsay’s earliest known poetical productions are associated with his time as a founding member of Edinburgh’s Easy Club, a pro-Jacobite men’s sociable society established in May 1712. This association, although short-lived – it was dissolved around 1715, at the time of the first Jacobite rising and as the risk of repercussions for pro-Jacobite groups increased – nevertheless set the groundwork for Ramsay’s future career. In the club’s ‘easy’ and accepting atmosphere, Ramsay’s son, Allan Ramsay Junior (1713-84), was a prominent portrait painter who in 1761 was appointed Principal Painter in Ordinary to George III. Ramsay Junior received training at the Academy of St. Luke. 1

1

Poems

Ramsay could try his early compositions on a friendly and sympathetic audience and test the literary water. The Easy Club was responsible for publishing two early texts: the ‘Elegy on Maggy Johnston’, thought to be Ramsay’s first composition and probably printed for the first time in 1712, and ‘A Poem To the Memory of the Famous Archibald Pitcairn, M.D.’, published in late 1713 or early 1714. These Easy Club productions provide underpinning for concerns which would occupy Ramsay until his death: the use of the Scots language in literary texts, the continuation of long-standing Scottish literary forms, such as the ‘Standard Habbie’ stanza originated by Robert Sempill of Beltrees (1595?-1663?), nuanced neoclassicism, good-natured yet pointed satire, cautious sympathy for the Jacobite cause and the celebration of the ordinary, everyday life of Scotland. From this base, Ramsay began producing pamphlets, including The Morning Interview (1716), the elegies on Maggy Johnston, Lucky Wood and John Cowper (1718), ‘Lucky Spence’s Last Advice’ (1718), The Scriblers Lash’d (1718), Tartana: Or, the Plaid (1718) and Content (1719), as well as multiple editions of the early sixteenth-century Scots poem Christ’s Kirk on the Green, printed with two additional cantos of Ramsay’s composition, from 1718. In 1719, he published the first of three editions of his collection of Scots Songs, which were later incorporated into Poems (1721), and began to see his work printed in London. This new-found British fame was not, however, without controversy. In the latter years of the 1710s Ramsay was publishing feverishly: 1718 and 1719 saw around twelve publications each, while in 1720, some thirty-three editions bore Ramsay’s name. On Ramsay’s own evidence, not all publications of his work were authorised at this point in his career. In the summer of 1719, Ramsay complained to Edinburgh’s Town Council that his poems were the subject of piracy, and later gave further details in ‘To the Right Honourable, The Town-Council of Edinburgh, The Address of Allan Ramsay’, which was printed in Poems (1721). Council minutes for 26 August 1719 confirm that Ramsay was ‘prejudged by some Printers Ballad Cryers and Others by Printing and Causing to be Printed Poems of his Composure without his notice or allowance upon False and Uncorrect Coppies’, and that ‘the Ballad Cryers refuse to Vend and Publish his papers unless he gives them at Rates below what really they can be printed for’. In support of the poet, the Councillors ruled that none of Ramsay’s works could be printed ‘without his License’ and set the ballad hawkers’ profit at one 2

Introduction

third of the selling price. If they failed to comply, they would be fined £20 Scots,2 the unauthorised papers would be confiscated, and their right to sell papers forfeited.3 For context, a burgh Procurator Fiscal in the early eighteenth century received a salary of £10 Scots per annum,4 while William Smellie earned three shillings per week when he joined the printing firm of Hamilton and Balfour in 1754.5 When Ramsay’s chief publisher, Thomas Ruddiman, printed a piece implying the Jacobite activity of James Murray, second Duke of Atholl (1690-1764) in the 2 September 1745 issue of his Caledonian Mercury, he was ‘tried, convicted, fined £5 and 48 hours’ imprisonment… and in addition had to publish an apology for the paragraph as “false, scandalous, and injurious”’.6 The weight of the £20 fine is evidence of the Town Council’s support for Ramsay as he launched his poetic career. Based on the account provided by the poet in ‘The Address of Allan Ramsay’, Ramsay’s editors have traditionally seen his complaint to the Town Council as referring to only one poem: ‘Richy and Sandy, A Pastoral on the Death of Joseph Addison’, first published in 1719.7 However, this conclusion takes its sole cue from Ramsay’s poetic representation of the case and does not fully consider the contextual evidence at hand. It is certainly true that ‘Richy and Sandy’ was published in several unauthorised forms: it was first pirated by Edinburgh publisher Margaret ‘Lucky’ Reid, who produced ‘a stream of last

2 Adam Fox reads the fine as ‘seventy pounds’ in The Press and the People: Cheap Print and Society in Scotland, 1500-1785 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2020), p.202; in our reading, the MS states ‘Twenty pounds’.

3

Town Council Records, Edinburgh City Archives, SL1/1/47, 26 August 1719, pp.43-44. 4 John Finlay, Legal Practice in Eighteenth-Century Scotland (Leiden: Brill, 2015), p.331. 5

Warren McDougall, ‘Developing a Marketplace for Books: Edinburgh’ in Stephen S. Brown and Warren McDougall (eds), The Edinburgh History of the Book in Scotland, Volume 2: Enlightenment and Expansion (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2012), p.130. 6 W.J. Couper, The Edinburgh Periodical Press, 2 Vols (Stirling: Eneas Mackay, 1908), Vol. II, p.45. 7 See Alexander M. Kinghorn and Alexander Law (eds), The Works of Allan Ramsay, Vol. VI (Edinburgh: Blackwood for the Scottish Text Society, 1974), p.38 (thereafter ‘STS’). 3

Poems

dying speeches, ballads [and] chapbooks’,8 in an imprint which has not survived. Reid’s ‘uncorrect’ copy then provided the text for three English piracies: the poem was included in Eloisa and Abelard. Written by Mr. Pope (1720) and printed on its own in Richy and Sandy; A Pastoral On the Death of the Right Honourable Joseph Addison. By Allan Ramsey [sic] (1720), both of which were published in London by Alexander Pope’s erstwhile printer, Bernard Lintot (1675-1736). A further edition, printed by John Collyer in Nottingham in 1720, was also published without authority. Although ‘The Address of Allan Ramsay’ singles out Reid for particular censure, the Town Council Minute’s reference to multiple ‘Printers Ballad Cryers and Others’ and ‘Poems of his Composure’ indicates that Ramsay’s complaint was much greater in scope than simply the case of ‘Richy and Sandy’ alone. The Town Council’s ruling could only apply to the chapmen and paper hawkers of Edinburgh, not elsewhere – its instruction is to ‘all Printers and Paper Cryers within this Citie or Suburbs’ – and Ramsay was, at the time of his complaint in mid-1719, unaware of the forthcoming unauthorised English editions of ‘Richy and Sandy’, which would be published in the following year. These details demonstrate that ‘The Address of Allan Ramsay’ cannot be taken as unambiguous evidence of the facts of Ramsay’s complaint to the Town Council: given that the poem refers to Lintot’s unauthorised printings of ‘Richy and Sandy’ of 1720, it was clearly written after the fact, when his victory over Reid and others was established. When ‘The Address of Allan Ramsay’ is treated as a literary reimagining of his complaint, there is no evidence to suggest that it was limited to the piracy of one text: in fact, as shown, the Town Council Minute emphasises Ramsay’s concerns about the piracy of ‘Poems of his Composure’. It can be concluded, therefore, that Ramsay’s mid-1719 complaint was in response to a context of uninhibited literary piracy in early eighteenth-century Edinburgh, and that he was making prompt and determined efforts to control his intellectual property, maximise his profits and define his own oeuvre.9 In this context, the publication of an edition of Ramsay’s 8

‘Margaret “Lucky” Reid’, in the Scottish Book Trade Index: https://data.cerl. org/sbti/006237. 9 John Feather’s Publishing, Piracy and Politics: An Historical Study of Copyright in Britain (New York, NY: Mansell, 1994) gives a full-length study of literary piracy. 4

Introduction

poems in 1720 requires re-evaluation. This edition, entitled Poems. By Allan Ramsay (Edinburgh: Printed for the Author at the Mercury, opposite to Niddry’s Wynd, 1720), is traditionally referred to by Ramsay scholars including Burns Martin,10 Alexander Kinghorn and Alexander Law11 as the ‘gather-up’ edition, due to its extremely variable presentation, composition and contents. It has been accepted by previous editors and biographers, without supporting evidence, as having been authorised by Ramsay. Despite the fact that Andrew Gibson regards the ‘gather-up’ edition as marking ‘a striking new departure on the part of Ramsay’, which should set off editorial alarm bells, it is nevertheless presented without further discussion or justification as ‘the first octavo edition of Ramsay’s collected poems’.12 The editors of the Scottish Text Society edition speculate that ‘individual copies consisted of a collection of the poems that Ramsay had to hand’,13 while Gibson surmises that Ramsay decided to print an octavo edition at a point when stock copies of some of the editions of the detached pieces had been sold out, whereby reprints of those editions were rendered necessary, in order to enable him to use copies thereof in forming a portion of the projected octavo edition. The editions then reprinted were paged so as to make the pagination of the octavo edition consecutive.14

These suppositions, presented as editorial and textual conclusions, do not now stand up to scrutiny. As the unofficial title given by the editors of the Scottish Text Society edition suggests, the edition of c.1720 is made up of individual printings of individual poems, resembling a ‘gathering’ of separate pamphlets and poem texts bound together in one edition, where original title pages are sometimes left intact.15 There are, however, intractable textual and presentational problems Burns Martin, Bibliography of Allan Ramsay (Glasgow: Jackson, Wylie, & Co., 1931), pp.30-34. 11 STS VI, p.4. 12 Andrew Gibson, New Light on Allan Ramsay (Edinburgh: Brown, 1927), p.140. 13 STS VI, p.4. 14 Gibson, New Light on Allan Ramsay, p.142. 15 See also Craig Lamont, ‘Stewart and Meikle’s The Poetical Miscellany (1800): A Problematic Glasgow “Edition” of Robert Burns’ in Burns Chronicle 130:1 (2021), pp.59-70. 10

5

Poems

with this edition, making it an astonishingly unstable text which is highly unlikely to have been authorised by Ramsay. While it retains some title pages of individual poems and pamphlets, the ‘gather-up’ edition offers next to no textual apparatus, save a glossary which replicates that of Poems (1721). Its title page states that it was published in 1720: Gibson argues that it ‘was published about August, 1720, because our copy of it includes Wealth, or the Woody, which is dated June, 1720, and does not include The Prospect of Plenty, which was not produced before September or October, 1720’.16 While Gibson’s rationale for dating his own copy is sound, certain copies of the ‘gather-up’ edition do in fact contain The Prospect of Plenty, which was first published in late 1720: indeed, the pamphlets bound in some copies of the edition are dated 1721 and even 1722.17 The very presence of post-1720 texts in an edition purporting to have been published in that year is evidence of its lack of authenticity. Furthermore, beyond the issue of dating, copies of the ‘gather-up’ edition vary, and, as explained in further detail below under ‘The Text’, several distinct versions with differing contents have been identified so far, not all of which are available for consultation. The extreme variability of the ‘gather-up’ edition of c.1720 makes it an unstable source for collation purposes. More serious than its volatility is, however, the lack of evidence to suggest that it is a legitimate, authorised edition. As outlined above, Ramsay was moved to complain to Edinburgh’s Town Council in mid-1719 – at exactly the point at which the ‘gather-up’ edition was in preparation – regarding the piracy of ‘Poems of his Composure’. By now, he had been publishing with prestigious Edinburgh printer Thomas Ruddiman (1674–1757) for around a year: Ramsay’s earliest extant publication with Ruddiman is a broadside printing of Christ’s Kirk On The Green, In Two Cantos, dated to 1718. Even at this early stage, a Ruddiman printing constitutes the gold standard of authority in Ramsay’s bibliography. In the case of Christ’s Kirk on the Green, Ramsay’s first edition of the text was based on a transcription of the poem as printed in James Watson’s Choice Collection of Comic and Serious Scots Poems (1706, 1709, 1711), with the addition of a canto by Ramsay: Gibson, New Light, p.143. ‘The Morning Interview’s’ title page dates it to 1721 in the fullest extant ‘gather-up’ edition (the National Library of Scotland’s copy, shelf-marked Glen 106), while Christ’s Kirk on the Green is here dated 1722. 16 17

6

Introduction

this text was published by William Adams Junior in 1718. Analysis of the print copies of Christ’s Kirk on the Green reveals that Ramsay gained access to the original text of the poem through consultation of the sixteenth-century collection of older Scots poetry known as the Bannatyne Manuscript later in 1718, subsequent to the publication of his first edition. After transcribing the Bannatyne Manuscript, Ramsay rejected Watson’s version and updated his text to reflect more faithfully the original: for this new, corrected edition benefiting from Ramsay’s direct access to a near-contemporary transcription, Ramsay selected Ruddiman as his printer. Ruddiman would also go on to print Ramsay’s core outputs, including The Tea-Table Miscellany, The Ever Green, Poems (1721) and Poems (1728). The ‘gather-up’ edition lacks this publishing gold standard but, more seriously, it lacks any concrete connection to either Ruddiman or Ramsay. In fact, while the ‘gather-up’ edition of c.1720 incorporates some of the poems printed in Ramsay’s forthcoming subscriber’s edition, Poems (1721), there is nothing, save the texts, to connect these two publications. The ‘gather-up’ edition is haphazardly organised, with no internal logic as to the ordering of its texts, whereas Poems (1721) groups poems and songs based on their original publication – see, for example, the two collections of Scots Songs printed in the edition of 1721 – or their theme, such as the group of poems focusing on the South Sea Bubble and its aftermath. The ‘gather-up’ edition features print ornaments which differ in all cases from those of Poems (1721), and none of the ornaments of the c.1720 edition are recognisable as Ruddiman’s; they also differ in some cases from those of extant pamphlet publications. The two editions have different presentation styles for page numbers and catch words, and while the 1721 edition features smoothly printed and accurate running headers, these are absent from the ‘gather-up’ edition. The edition of c.1720 features eccentric italicisation, especially in its printing of the elegies on Maggy Johnston, John Cowper and Lucky Wood, which is not found elsewhere in authorised printings of these texts. Most importantly, the ‘gather-up’ editions avoid incorporating any known Ruddiman editions and use entirely different print stock. All primary evidence suggests that neither Ruddiman nor Ramsay had any hand in the preparation or distribution of the ‘gather-up’ edition of c.1720. Its timing also underlines its inauthenticity. In 1720, Ramsay was preparing his first subscriber’s edition, which would be published 7

Proposals for Printing by Subscription, The Poetical Works of Allan Ramsay (1720) [signed]. NLS MS.582 (615)

Introduction

in late 1721.18 This edition, produced by Ruddiman, has an ornate frontispiece adorned with an engraving of Ramsay’s head after John Smibert (1688-1751), a considered and decorative title page, dedication, preface, detailed glossary and explanatory annotations, making it the first clearly authorised collected edition of Ramsay’s works until that point. Indeed, his Proposals for Printing by Subscription, the Poetical Works of Allan Ramsay is dated 10 August 1720, and reprinted in the Caledonian Mercury for 11 August, around the time that Gibson’s particular copy of the ‘gather-up’ edition was published.19 In his Proposals, Ramsay states that subscriptions could be taken ‘by Thomas Jauncy at the Angel without Temple-Bar, London, and by the Author at the Mercury opposite to Niddry’s Wynd, Edinburgh’, and promises that his subscriber’s edition would contain ‘all that hath hitherto appeared, together with an Addition of a great Number of Poems, Serious and Comick, that have not yet been published’, as well as ‘Notes at the Bottom of the Page by the Author, for Explanation of the Scotticisms, with a complete Glossary giving English for every Scots Word contained in the Volume.’ Ramsay’s plan was for a professionally produced Collected Works printed via the established model of publishing by subscription; it was realised just over a year later with the publication of Poems (1721). Having taken the care to publish his Proposals and determine places at which subscriptions could be taken in both Edinburgh and London, it is highly unlikely that Ramsay would authorise an additional edition of his works which had the potential to jeopardise support for Poems (1721). It would have been imprudent for any poet who depended on the patronage of the gentry via subscription to undermine their sponsorship by simultaneously printing and selling an inferior edition of the texts for which they were paying. As Ramsay states in the advertisement for Poems (1721) printed alongside The Rise and Fall of Stocks (Edinburgh, 1721), he printed ‘only about one hundred more’ copies ‘than what he is at this time already sure to dispose of’, in order to avoid According to an advertisement for Poems (1721) in the first edition of The Rise and Fall of Stocks (London, 1721) dated 25 March 1721, Ramsay ‘Desires to be excused for delaying the Printing three or four months longer than first intended’, indicating that the subscriber’s edition was published in the latter half of the year, and certainly not before July. 19 The only extant copy of Ramsay’s Proposals for Printing by Subscription, the Poetical Works of Allan Ramsay (Edinburgh, 1720), is held by the National Library of Scotland, MS.582 (615); see also Caledonian Mercury, 11 August 1720. 18

Poems

‘being unmannerly and ungrateful to his honourable Subscribers, by over-printing, and selling cheaper to others who do not subscribe’.20 Indeed, the subscription list for Poems (1721) provides evidence of the powerful political, cultural and literary networks within which Ramsay moved: it includes the names of thirteen Dukes, seven Marquises, twenty-three Earls, two Viscounts, twenty-five Lords, six Ladies and three Countesses, as well as those of prominent Scottish portrait painter William Aikman (1682-1731) and poets Alexander Pope (16881744), Richard Savage (c.1697-1743) and Richard Steele (bap.1672-1729). In this context, there is no evidence to suggest that Ramsay agreed to the publication of the much rougher, less professional ‘gather-up’ edition in advance of and in close proximity to the sleek and ornate Poems (1721): doing so had the potential to harm sales of his forthcoming edition, as well as running the risk of losing prestigious subscribers, on whose financial support Poems (1721) depended. Indeed, it was due to the success of Poems (1721) that Ramsay was able to leave his previous employment as a wigmaker to enter the bookselling trade: according to Murray Pittock, the edition ‘realised 400 guineas for its author’.21 This considerable income is comparable to the 500 guineas earned by John Dryden (1631-1700) for his Works of Virgil (1697),22 equating to over £64,000 in the twenty-first century.23 It is for these reasons, which are explained in further detail under ‘The Text’ below, that the ‘gather-up’ edition of c.1720 is not regarded as an authorised textual source here. The subscriber’s edition of Poems (1721) also stands in sharp contrast to the edition of c.1720 due to the emphatic presence of Ramsay’s own authorial voice in the Dedication and Preface, both of which are absent from the ‘gather-up’ edition. In an approach Advertisement for Poems (1721) in The Rise and Fall of Stocks, 1720. An Epistle To the Right Honourable My Lord Ramsay, Now in Paris (Edinburgh: Printed for the Author at the Mercury, opposite to Niddry’s Wynd, and sold by T. Jauncy at the Angel, without Temple-bar, London. MDCCXXI). 21 Murray G.H. Pittock, ‘Ramsay, Allan’ in Oxford Dictionary of National Biography (2004) [https://doi.org/10.1093/ref:odnb/23072]. 22 J.A. Downie, ‘Paying for Poetry at the Turn of the Eighteenth Century, with Particular Reference to Dryden, Pope, and Defoe’ in Digital Defoe: Studies in Defoe and His Contemporaries 6:1 (fall 2014), p.4. 23 See https://www.measuringworth.com/calculators/ukcompare/. I am grateful to Dr Clark McGinn for his guidance in calculating equivalent monetary values. 20

10

Introduction

that would become characteristic – the first volume of The Tea-Table Miscellany is, for example, addressed to ‘ilka lovely British lass’ – Ramsay dedicates Poems (1721) to his female readers. His dedication ‘To the most Beautiful, The Scots Ladies’, offers them ‘innocent Diversion’ and a way in which ‘to invite those engaging Smiles which heighten your other Beauties’. ‘The Scots Ladies’ are, according to Ramsay, ‘the Mark I chiefly aim’d at’: as he proclaims, his poetic work is ‘less owing to my natural Genius, than to the Inspiration of your Charms’. The ideas contained within the Dedication become keystones of Ramsay’s literary career: while unashamedly professing his own ‘natural Genius’, he will continue to pay special attention to the female members of his audience and to invite the ‘Smiles’ of his readers. The separate Preface to Poems (1721), printed here, sees Ramsay declaiming his literary and linguistic manifesto. He begins by stating that he will ‘never quarrel with any Man whose Temper is the reverse of mine’, precisely because ‘Every Man is born with his particular Bent’: Ramsay’s ‘is obvious, which since I knew, I never inclined to curb’. After stating that he regards poetry as ‘the most elevated, delightful and generous Study in the World’, Ramsay sets himself alongside classical poets Homer, Anacreon and Horace, as well as Edmund Waller (1606-87), in ‘justly claim[ing] the Preeminence’. At this point, Ramsay acknowledges that he has ‘Enemies; yes, I have been honoured with three or four Satyrs’. This was certainly the case: around 1720, Ramsay was the subject of a handful of published satires which ridiculed his early works and perceptions of his vanity. ‘A Satyr Upon Allan Ramsay, Occasioned upon a Report of his Translating Horace’ (c.1720)24 condemns Ramsay’s ‘D—d brazen face’ (l.1), criticising him on the basis that ‘Thou wilt insist and play the Fool, / And plague us with thy Impudence’ (ll.15-16). Advising Ramsay that he is ‘only fit, / For Wigs, and not for verse by G—d’ (l.12), the anonymous satirist advises him to ‘Touch not the Ashes laid to rest; / Let Horace sleep, his Labours spare’ (ll.19-20). A second poem, probably contemporary to ‘A Satyr’, is entitled ‘An Habbyac on the Death of Allan Ramsay’:25 the author mimics the Standard Habbie format of Ramsay’s ‘Elegy on Maggy Johnston’ in response to Ramsay’s imagined death. Here, the poet is dismissed as an ‘old Gouk’ or fool (l.30) at A copy is held in the National Library of Scotland, Mf.G.0819 (21). The NLS holds a photocopy of the Signet Library’s copy of ‘An Habbyac’ (6.107). 24 25

11

Poems

whose death Edinburgh ‘Sall hardly Cow’r’ (l.22). A third piece, entitled ‘Allan Ramsay Metamorphosed to a Hather-Bloter Poet’,26 is likely to be the work of William Forbes of Disblair (1661-1740), known for The True Scots Genius, Reviving (1704) and A Pil for Pork-Eaters, or, A Scots Lancet for an English Swelling (1705).27 This text, which takes the form of a Ramsay-esque pastoral dialogue between Ægon and Melibiæ, disdainfully describes Ramsay as ‘Prince of Poets’ (l.9) and ends with a warning: ‘If you praise his Deeds, / Provide a Block unto his high flown Wiggs’ (ll.109-10). Each of these satires comes from a place of condescension and social snobbery: all three refer to Ramsay’s trade as a wigmaker, imploring him to know his place and not assume that he is fit for the work of a poet. If Ramsay was at all bothered by these literary attacks, it is not visible in his Preface to Poems (1721). In fact, he states here that the satires written against him are ‘such wretched Stuff, that several of my Friends would alledge upon me that I had wrote and published them my self… to make the World believe I had no Foes but Fools’. From the work of these ‘Fools’, Ramsay now moves to those who ridicule his use of the Scots language, stating that the ‘Pedants’ who ‘confine Learning to the critical Understanding of the dead Languages, while they are ignorant of the Beauties of their Mother Tongue, do not view me with a friendly Eye’. In response, Ramsay states ‘without Blushing’ that, although he has but little Latin, he can ‘feast’ on the ‘beautiful Thoughts’ of Horace when ‘dress’d in British’. Given Ramsay’s avowed support for Scots language poetry, this use of ‘British’ is, according to Pittock, ‘part of his claim for structural parity for Scottish and English writing’.28 He is unapologetic about his alleged ‘Vanity’, which he regards as ‘a very essential Qualification of a Poet’, and summarises the advice of his Friends as follows: They are pleased with what I have done; and add, David, Homer and Virgil, say they, were more ignorant of the Scots and English Tongue, than you are of Hebrew, Greek and Latin: Pursue your own natural Manner, and be an Original.

A copy is held at the Mitchell Library, Glasgow. See William Walker, The Bards of Bon-Accord, 1375-1860 (Aberdeen: Edmond & Spark, 1887), p.643, and William Donaldson, ‘The Poetry of William Forbes of Disblair (1661-1740)’ in Studies in Scottish Literature 45:2 (2019), pp.121-37. 28 Murray Pittock, ‘Allan Ramsay and the Decolonisation of Genre’ in Review of English Studies 58:235 (2007), p.334. 26 27

12

Introduction

While acknowledging in the Dedication that his ‘natural Genius’ is enhanced by the approving smiles of his female readers, Ramsay is unashamed in his self-representation as ‘an Original’ in the Preface. In this short and audacious statement, he places himself alongside Biblical psalmist King David and the classical literary ‘masters’ in defence of his use of the Scots language. In fact, Scots is central to his ‘originality’ and ‘natural genius’ in this construction. Demonstrating supreme literary and linguistic confidence, Ramsay sums up his mode of protection against satirists, critics and ‘enemies’ with a couplet of verse: ‘Thus shielded by the Brave and Fair, / My Foes may envy, but despair’. His female readers ‘shield’ him from criticism, as do the ‘brave’, who discard needlessly inflexible literary convention in their appreciation of Ramsay’s modes of poetry. Ramsay’s Preface-meets-manifesto continues with a justification for his use of the Scots language which, he argues, ‘was not only Inclination, but the Desire of my best and wisest Friends’. In fact, ‘good Imagery, just Similies, and all Manner of ingenious Thoughts, in a well laid Design, disposed into Numbers, is Poetry. — Then good Poetry may be in any Language’. Ramsay continues his celebration of the Scots language by quoting from George Sewell’s introduction to the London edition of Ramsay’s Patie and Roger (1720). Far from bemoaning the obscurity and impenetrability of ‘Scotticisms, which perhaps may offend some over-nice Ear’, English author and physician Sewell ‘bewail[s] my own little Knowledge’ of Scots, ‘since I meet with so many Words and Phrases so expressive of the Ideas they are intended to represent’. And while the anonymous ‘A Satyr Upon Allan Ramsay’ pleaded with the poet to leave Horace at rest, Ramsay states that, ‘I have only snatched at his Thought and Method in gross, and dress’d them up in Scots’. ‘This,’ he states, ‘is all I think needful in Defence of my Book’. With the subscribers’ edition of Poems (1721) in the hands of its readers and Ramsay’s literary confidence at its height as a result, he continued to publish individual poems in Edinburgh and London, as well as a collection of Fables and Tales, which was first printed in 1722 and gradually enlarged through three editions. These texts, eventually incorporated into his second collected works, Poems (1728), see Ramsay translate the work of French fabulists Antoine Houdar de la Motte (1672-1731) and Jean de la Fontaine (1621-95) into the Scots language. The first volume of his Tea-Table Miscellany appeared in 13

Poems

1723, and The Ever Green in 1724. In the same year, Ramsay’s Health was printed for the first time, as well as an Irish edition of his works, entitled Miscellaneous Works Of That Celebrated Scotch Poet, Allan Ramsay (Dublin, 1724). Ramsay was appointed an honorary member and Bard of the Royal Company of Archers in 1724, giving him access to ‘representatives of some of the most famous families’29 of the contemporary Scottish aristocracy; it also gave rise to a number of poems for the Archers, published individually, in Poems in English and Latin, on the Archers, and the Royal-Company of Archers (1726) and in his Poems (1728). By now, Ramsay had long enjoyed the patronage of, among others, John Forbes of Newhall (1683-1735), Sir John Clerk of Penicuik, second baronet (1676-1755) and Sir William Bennet, second baronet (d.1729), often staying at their country estates at Newhall, Mavisbank, Penicuik and Marlefield. Ramsay’s Gentle Shepherd is regarded as having been set in the countryside surrounding Newhall, while the Penicuik House estate features a memorial to Ramsay erected by Clerk’s son James (c.1710-82), shortly after the poet’s death, in 1759. The Newhall grounds contain a sundial in Ramsay’s memory, constructed in 1810, while Newhall House holds a painting by Alexander Carse (c.17701843) which depicts Ramsay’s friend, painter William Aikman, drawing the audience at a reading of Ramsay’s The Gentle Shepherd. While Ramsay developed The Gentle Shepherd from pastoral play into ballad opera format and continued issuing new volumes of The Tea-Table Miscellany, he published the second edition of his collected works, Poems (1728): this working method, in which he advances multiple projects simultaneously, is characteristic. By this point, Ramsay’s printed corpus is more stable, and he now appears to be in complete control of his literary property. While Poems (1721) was preceded by numerous pamphlet publications of individual poems and groups of poems, much more of the text for Poems (1728) is in comparison preserved in manuscript or previously unpublished, and Ramsay’s evolving approach to his own oeuvre is reflected in our detailed lists of textual variants between manuscript and print sources. Ramsay was now also publishing prose works, albeit anonymously, including his Some Few Hints In Defence of Dramatic Entertainments (1727), in which he argues for the positive effects of theatre performance and paves the way for his own venue, which would open in late 29

STS VI, p.71. 14

Introduction

1736. He was still at this point in the habit of issuing substantial poems in pamphlet form – Content and The Scriblers Lash’d both appear in standalone editions in 1728 – but with Poems (1728), Ramsay was operating as an established, confident, national poet. This second collected works resembles Poems (1721) in that it is also published by Ruddiman, and possesses an extensive and prestigious list of subscribers, vast annotation and a newly expanded glossary of the Scots language terms used in the text. Reflecting Ramsay’s growing fame, the subscribers for Poems (1728) include the engraver Richard Cooper (1701-64), who had engraved the music for Alexander Stuart’s Musick for Allan Ramsay’s Collection of Scots Songs (c.1725), John Leslie, master of the Grammar School at Haddington whose students would perform The Gentle Shepherd in 1729, playwright, poet and sometime Ramsay collaborator Joseph Mitchell (c.1684-1738), Alexander Pope, Richard Steele and Ramsay’s literary correspondent, the English poet William Somervile (1675-1742). Ramsay’s aristocratic subscribers have also increased by 1728, with prominent figures such as James Hamilton, fifth Duke of Hamilton (1703-43), Charles Maitland, sixth Earl of Lauderdale (c.1688-1744) and Simon Fraser, eleventh Lord Lovat (c.1667-1747) featuring in the subscription list. By 1728, too, Ramsay has developed relationships with several female aristocrats: he would dedicate The Gentle Shepherd to his subscriber and literary patron Susanna Montgomerie, Countess of Eglinton (1690-1780), while ‘The Fair Assembly’, printed in Poems (1728), praises Edinburgh’s aristocratic ladies, including subscriber Margaret Maule, Countess of Panmure, for their management of the city’s Assembly, a weekly dancing club for the Scottish gentry. In a departure from the approach of Poems (1721), Ramsay offers no Preface to the 1728 edition, perhaps reflecting his previous success and assured position as a Scots poet. Instead, he prints a Dedication to the ‘Most Noble, Right Honourable, and generous Patrons’ who make up his subscription list, thanking them with ‘inexpressible Joy’ for their role in raising for him ‘a Stock of Fame amongst the Rank of native Poets’. While humbly appreciative of their ‘Godlike Benevolence’, Ramsay nonetheless points to ‘all the Strength of my Genius’ in the works contained in Poems (1728). While Poems (1721) was buoyed by the support and laughter of the ‘Brave and Fair’, Ramsay now states that he has ‘taken Care to evite every Thought tending either to Debauchery or Irreligion, while I endeavour to be serviceable to 15

Poems

Morality’. Having said this, he echoes the Preface of 1721 by offering no apology for his ‘Vanity (as they often nickname the ardent Emotions towards what is praise-worthy)’, modifying a couplet from Charles Codrington’s ‘Verses Addressed to the Author of “The Dispensary”’ in reference to his own poetry: ‘They have no Faults, or no Faults can I spy; / They’re beautiful, or sometimes blind am I.’ While stating that he welcomes ‘judicious Criticism’, Ramsay nonetheless claims a place in ‘Posterity’ for his ‘one or two good pickt Volumes’. Poems (1728) offers a clear reflection of Ramsay’s networks at this point in his career. As well as elegies for various prominent figures of the Scottish nobility, including Lady Margaret Anstruther, James, Lord Carnegie and Anne, Lady Gairlies, Ramsay incorporates the texts from his previous publication, Fables and Tales, inserts a new collection of songs set to Scottish melodies, commemorates the death of Sir Isaac Newton through London’s Royal Society and prints the first version of The Gentle Shepherd alongside theatrical prologues. This edition sees Ramsay cement his reputation as Scotland’s foremost poet, song-collector and now, playwright. It sees him engaging – through literary action – in contemporary debates about antiquarianism, the value of the theatre and the meaning of ‘improvement’ in early Enlightenment Scotland. Following Poems (1728), Ramsay was still deeply occupied in writing poetry, alongside continuing work on The Tea-Table Miscellany and The Gentle Shepherd. He issued a second, expanded edition of Poems (1728) in 1729, and republished his fables and tales in a Collection of Thirty Fables (1730). A two-volume London edition of his works was published in 1731, while key poems, including Tartana: Or, the Plaid were reprinted in pamphlets. In the 1730s and 1740s, Ramsay printed several poems in the periodical press, including ‘Leith Races’ in the Caledonian Mercury for 2 August 1736 and the ‘Epistle to James Oswald’ in the Scots Magazine for October 1741. His work was also increasingly anthologised in miscellanies, including in The Scarborough Miscellany (1732), Calliope or English Harmony (1739) and The Caledonian Miscellany (1740). In this period, too, Ramsay issued A Collection of Scots Proverbs (1737), which saw him preserve and curate Scotland’s aphoristic history. By now, Ramsay’s influence stretched across numerous areas of Scottish culture: older and contemporary poetry, literary forms, songs and tunes, the theatre and even the day-to-day adages of Scotland, past and present. 16

Introduction

The 1730s show Ramsay extending his interest in the theatre. He produced a new edition of Robert Drury’s play, The Devil of a Duke: Or, Trapolin’s Vagaries, in 1733, adding sixteen new songs, of which twelve are known to be by Ramsay, before opening his own theatre in 1736. The 1740s and 1750s saw Ramsay publish numerous reprints of established works, including The Gentle Shepherd, A Collection of Scots Proverbs and The Tea-Table Miscellany, but in private he was writing as much poetry as ever. These uncollected and sometimes unpublished poems, numbering around two hundred pieces, appeared in various places: in manuscript, correspondence, pamphlets, the periodical press and published collections. Ramsay died on 7 January 1758, and literary tributes began appearing in newspapers and magazines as soon as the news was known. ‘Cleanthes’ prints ‘To the Memory of Mr Allan Ramsay’ in the Scots Magazine for January 1758, where Ramsay’s work is described as a place ‘where mirth and wit conspire / To raise the laugh, warm’d by the Muse’s fire: / Where innocence, where artless nature shines, / And simple elegance adorns the lines.’30 The London Evening Post for 2-4 February 1758 features an anonymous ‘Elegy on the Death of Allan Ramsay’, where the poet is described as ‘The Swain that sang sae sweet’, who ‘is now nae mair!’31 Not only is Ramsay remembered through verse in the public pages of the periodical press very shortly after his death, but those tributes utilise the older Scottish forms and metres he had preserved in his own work. Just as Ramsay continues with and breathes new life into the forms he inherited from Scots poets such as Sempill and his friend and correspondent, William Hamilton of Gilbertfield (c.1665-1751), so too do his poetic admirers. In the coming decades, Scots language poet Robert Fergusson (1750-74) would maintain Ramsay’s literary approach, as would Robert Burns (1759-96), whose linguistic manifesto, poetry, song-collecting and song-writing are profoundly influenced by Ramsay’s example. Core Themes and Forms Ramsay’s Scots language pastorals were particularly popular from the earliest point of his career, with pastoral dialogue ‘Richy and Sandy’, written on the death of Joseph Addison in 1719, providing his earliest, albeit unauthorised, publications in London, and ‘Patie and Roger’, 30 31

The Scots Magazine (January 1758), Vol. 20, pp.20-21. The London Evening Post, 2-4 February 1758, Vol. 4719. 17

Poems

printed in Poems (1721), forming the basis of the commercially successful ballad opera, The Gentle Shepherd. Poems (1721) also sees Ramsay utilise the comic elegy form inherited from Sempill and Hamilton to new effect in ‘Elegy on Maggy Johnston’, ‘Elegy on John Cowper’, ‘Elegy on Lucky Wood’ and ‘An Elegy on Patie Birnie’: this example would be developed further by his Scots literary successors, Fergusson and Burns, to such an extent that their Standard Habbie verse form would, by the late eighteenth century, become known as the Burns stanza. Similarly, Poems (1721) reveals Ramsay as a significant literary antiquarian: with Christ’s Kirk on the Green, he demonstrates editorial care for older Scots poetry by updating his published text after consultation of its source in the Bannatyne Manuscript, and inserting himself into the enduring Christis Kirk literary tradition by adding two original cantos to this key text of the early modern Scottish canon. The first edition of Ramsay’s poems sees him satirise hack writers and those who would criticise women for their modes of dress in ‘The Scriblers Lash’d’ and tackle the complex issues of sex work in ‘Lucky Spence’s Last Advice’. In Poems (1721), Ramsay is particularly engaged with important political and economic matters of the day, including the prelude to and aftermath of the pricking of the South Sea Bubble, in ‘Wealth, or the Woody’, ‘The Rise and Fall of Stocks’ and ‘Cupid Thrown into the South-Sea’, as well as making suggestions for the harnessing of Scotland’s particular modes of wealth in The Prospect of Plenty, a poem arguing for the establishment of a North Sea fishery. In Poems (1721), Ramsay establishes himself further as a collector and editor of Scottish song, writing new lyrics for traditional Scottish melodies and preserving tunes both ancient and contemporary. Here, too, Ramsay sets the foundations for his persona as ‘the Scottish Horace’32 by printing Scots translations of Horace’s works and utilising the laughing but insistent mockery of Horatian satire. Poems (1728) continues many of these foundational concerns, with Ramsay moving into the role of fabulist with his Scots translations of the French fables of La Motte and La Fontaine and fully inhabiting his position as official Bard for the Royal Company of Archers. While Poems (1721) saw him enter an epistolary relationship with his fellow Scots poet William Hamilton of Gilbertfield, Poems (1728) sees him exchange verses with English poet William Somervile and Robert Heron, Scotland Delineated or, a geographical description of every shire in Scotland (Edinburgh: Neil, 1799), p.365.

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demonstrate his friendship with English playwright and poet John Gay (1685-1732). He continues in Poems (1728) with his defence of women’s liberty and choice in ‘The Fair Assembly’, praising the aristocratic directresses of Edinburgh’s Assembly for their civilising influence on the city’s youth. Ramsay’s position as ‘a favourite of many of the great Scottish families’33 is on display in Poems (1728), with numerous pieces addressed to his noble patrons, including George, Lord Ramsay, Lady Jean Maule, Grace, Countess of Aboyne and Lady Margaret Forbes of Newhall. He also demonstrates a relationship with a network of expatriate Scots, including painter William Aikman and playwright Joseph Mitchel, who had settled in London, and Donald MacEwen, who was working as a jeweller in St. Petersburg and was one of many – often Jacobite – Scots who emigrated to Russia in the eighteenth century. Ramsay’s uncollected and unpublished works equal the number of poems published in his editions of 1721 and 1728. Among his major uncollected works is A Tale of Three Bonnets, a satire on the Union of 1707 published anonymously in 1722, several translations of Horace’s Odes, ‘Babband and Tittypow’, a satire on unthinking greed for wealth, and ‘The Pleasures of Improvements in Agriculture’, which commemorates the efforts of the Society for Improving in Agriculture in cultivating Edinburgh’s landscapes. This group of uncollected and unpublished works sees Ramsay engage with contemporary church debates and disputes, including the Marrow Controversy and the roles of ministers Ralph and Ebenezer Erskine in the disruption of the Church of Scotland and the foundation of the Associate Presbytery. Throughout his corpus of around four hundred poems, core concerns, forms, motivations and themes emerge. Despite his increasingly visible literary relationship with the nobility, Ramsay’s approach to poetry is essentially democratic. A female innkeeper, ‘facetious’ fiddler and dying brothel madam are just as worthy of elegiac literary memorial as the privileged members of the gentry. On the evidence of his poems, Ramsay is an extraordinarily clubbable poet, commemorating his involvement with the Easy Club, the Whin-Bush Club, the Phiz Club and the Royal Company of Archers, and anticipating Edinburgh’s place as a centre of sociability during the Enlightenment period and beyond.34 His literary engagement with politics is often presented Pittock, ‘Ramsay, Allan’ in ODNB. See also Murray Pittock and Craig Lamont, ‘Edinburgh’s Enlightenment, 1680-1750’: https://gla.ac.uk/edinburghenlightenment 33

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through his satirical works, but he is equally content to sketch out a strategy for Scotland’s future in poems such as The Prospect of Plenty. Hypocrisy in all its forms is a satirical target, as is excess: in his Scots Horatian persona, Ramsay argues for the middle way in all things, while extolling ‘Content’ and the need to seize the day. In his song-writing, he takes on the role of cultural antiquary, preserving and refurbishing tunes in a manner which would be influential on later song collectors including William Thomson, James Oswald, David Herd, James Johnson and George Thomson. His writing for the theatre – including the Gentle Shepherd, Prologues, Epilogues and songs for existing plays – demonstrates his belief in the positive effects of drama in the face of contemporary religious opposition: although his Carrubber’s Close theatre was short-lived, its establishment reveals Ramsay’s support for drama as a literary form, and for Edinburgh as a cultural centre to rival London. All of these aspects of Ramsay’s work are united by his belief in the power of the Scots language as an expressive literary mode: emphasising his bilingualism in the Preface to Poems (1721), Ramsay praises the ‘liquid and sonorous’ pronunciation of Scots, arguing that it is ‘much fuller’ than English. In fact, even if some of his poetry resembles that ‘which we commonly reckon English poetry’, Ramsay states that all of his work is in the Scots language: ‘tho the words be pure English, the Idiom or Phraseology is still Scots’. This attitude is reflected in the extensive glossaries produced for the editions of 1721 and 1728, which are significant documents in the development of the Scots language dictionaries of pioneers such as lexicographer John Jamieson (17591838).35 Major Manuscript Collections The major collections of Ramsay’s manuscript material are held in five main repositories. The National Library of Scotland, Edinburgh, houses an extensive set of autograph material, including manuscript copies of poems and songs: the most significant collection here is MS 2233. The British Library’s Egerton manuscript collection holds drafts of Ramsay’s poems from the mid-1720s onwards, providing valuable information on the evolution of his texts: here, Egerton See Susan Rennie, Jamieson’s Dictionary of Scots: The Story of the First Historical Dictionary of the Scots Language (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012), pp.26-27. 35

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Introduction

2023 is substantial. The National Records of Scotland is home to the collection of Ramsay’s patron and friend, Sir John Clerk of Penicuik, in which manuscript copies of Ramsay’s poems and correspondence are held (Clerk of Penicuik Papers). The Huntington Library, San Marino, California, holds draft and fair copy autograph manuscripts of Ramsay’s poetry and prose: HM 97 and HM 211 are here noteworthy. Edinburgh University’s Laing Collection possesses holograph manuscripts alongside paperwork associated with Ramsay’s Easy Club: here, fair copies of Ramsay’s early poems, including the ‘Elegy on Maggy Johnston’, are found in the hand of Easy Club secretary, John Fergus. The Text Poems: 1721 and 1728 As outlined above, the authorised editions of 1721 and 1728, published in Edinburgh by Thomas Ruddiman, are the major poetry collections published in Ramsay’s lifetime. It can be inferred, in fact, that Ramsay saw these two editions combined as his Collected Works: Poems (1728) is subtitled ‘Volume II’, and it is presented in Ramsay’s Dedication as a continuation of Poems (1721). Although many individual poems in these editions had been printed beforehand in pamphlets, and despite the fact that the publication histories of Ramsay’s poems are unusually complex, it is rare for Ramsay to amend texts after their publication in either edition of Poems. This is, perhaps, understandable: the editions of 1721 and 1728 feature dedications and, in the case of Poems (1721), an extensive Preface-cum-literary and linguistic manifesto, subscription lists, extensive explanatory annotation and detailed glossaries. If individual texts were somewhat unstable before they were collected in these volumes, they remained largely static after they were repackaged and collected here. It is for these reasons that the editions of 1721 and 1728 are treated here as landmarks, providing our copy-text for the two hundred texts printed therein. Accompanying the copy-texts of 1721 and 1728 in the present edition is extensive explanatory and contextual annotation, as well as comprehensive lists of variants between the copy-text, extant manuscript sources and previous authorised printings of individual poems: here, MS and print variants are presented by source, with the copytext in square brackets to allow comparison. In the case of the songs printed in these editions, textual variants are accompanied by a history of the tune to which the song is set, with previous manuscript and 21

Poems

print sources for the melody listed up until and including the publication of Alexander Stewart’s Musick for Allan Ramsay’s Collection of Scots Songs (1725-26?). When a song is first printed in a previous edition – for example, Ramsay reprints a number of songs from his Tea-Table Miscellany in Poems (1728) – the full textual and musical note accompanies its first publication. As explained above, several of Ramsay’s works were printed without his license. In the case of poems printed in pamphlets before 1721 and 1728, judgements on their authority are made here based on whether Ramsay has a demonstrable connection to the publication, as well as on evidential details such as title pages and the quality of the print and text. The case of the ‘gather-up’ edition of c.1720 is still more complex. It has been established that Ramsay complained of literary piracy of his works in mid-1719. While Ramsay’s editors have presumed without evidence that the complaint related to ‘Richy and Sandy’ alone, it is highly probable that it referred to several unauthorised texts, and that the ‘gather-up’ edition of c.1720 was one of the publications to which Ramsay objected. Although the ‘gather-up’ edition purports on its title page to be ‘printed for the Author’, it is an unreliable and sloppily produced text, which is essentially a bound volume of individual poems and pamphlets with little textual apparatus, especially when compared to Poems (1721). The ‘gather-up’ edition is unstable on a number of additional fronts. Firstly, although it purports to have been printed in 1720, its dating is not secure, not least because, as detailed above, some pamphlets bound in some copies of the edition are dated to 1721 and even 1722. Moreover, copies of the ‘gather-up’ edition vary, and at least eight different versions with varying contents have been identified so far. Analysis of various copies of the ‘gather-up’ edition suggest that it was added to over time. Burns Martin, who accepts the ‘gather-up’ as Ramsay’s work, states that: At first, the poet-publisher made no pretence at continuous pagination, beyond p.84, but with the later issues he made increasing, and often grotesque, efforts to give the work the appearance of unity. Two other points should be noted: firstly, Ramsay’s practice of extending the volume as he wrote new poems, and secondly, his practice of retaining the title-pages of the pamphlets incorporated into the collected edition.36 36

Martin, Bibliography, p.30. 22

Introduction

Of the seven editions analysed by Martin, all contain ‘The Morning Interview’, ‘Tartana’, ‘Christ’s Kirk on the Green’, ‘The Scriblers Lash’d and ‘Content’ with title pages, but the textual sources for these individual poems differ. The British Library’s copy, for example, features the 1721 editions of ‘The Morning Interview’ and ‘Tartana’, alongside the fifth edition of ‘Christ’s Kirk on the Green’ (1722), the third edition of ‘The Scribler’s Lash’d’ (1721), the third edition of ‘Content’ (1721), with ‘The Prospect of Plenty’ and ‘The Rise and Fall of Stocks’, dated 1721. A copy held by the National Library of Scotland (Glen 124) is composed of the 1720 edition of ‘The Morning Interview’, ‘Tartana’ (1720) with its dedication, the 1720 edition of ‘Christ’s Kirk’, the second edition of ‘The Scriblers Lash’d’ (1720), the second edition of ‘Content’ and ‘The Prospect of Plenty’, but no ‘Rise and Fall of Stocks’. The copy once owned by Gibson diverges further: this contains ‘The Morning Interview’ (1720), ‘Tartana’ with its dedication, ‘Christ’s Kirk’ of 1720, the second edition of ‘The Scriblers Lash’d’ (1720) and the second edition of ‘Content’ (1719) but does not feature ‘The Prospect of Plenty’ or ‘The Rise and Fall of Stocks’.37 Since Martin’s bibliographical work of 1931, further copies of the ‘gather-up’ edition have come to light: these are no less unstable. For example, an additional copy held by the National Library of Scotland (Glen 106) appears to be the fullest, and perhaps latest, extant ‘gather-up’ edition. In comparison to the copies described above, it contains the 1721 edition of ‘The Morning Interview’, ‘Tartana’ (1721), the fifth edition of ‘Christ’s Kirk on the Green’ (1722), the third edition of ‘The Scriblers Lash’d’ (1721) and the third edition of ‘Content’ (1721), as well as ‘The Prospect of Plenty’ and ‘The Rise and Fall of Stocks’ (1721). All ‘gather-up’ editions are dated ‘1720’. As argued above, the incorporation of this range of post-1720 material is evidence of the edition’s inauthenticity. Previous Ramsay scholars and editors, including Gibson and the editors of the Scottish Text Society volumes of Ramsay’s works, accept without question, discussion or concrete evidence the ‘gather-up’ edition as having been authorised by Ramsay, and it is included as a source text in the Scottish Text Society edition’s lists of variants. They do so by selecting a ‘representative’ gather-up edition (the National Library of Scotland’s copy, Glen 124). However, as the above Martin’s full analysis of the ‘gather-up’ edition is found in Bibliography, pp.30-34.

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analysis demonstrates, there is no such thing as a representative copy of the ‘gather-up’ edition. Selecting a copy for collation purposes is therefore arbitrary, giving only variants found against that unique copy, rather than with the edition as a whole. Related to these considerations is the question of authority. Given that in 1720 Ramsay was preparing the subscriber’s edition of Poems (1721) and publishing his printing proposals for that text, it is highly unlikely that he would allow the messy, complicated and, in Martin’s words, ‘grotesque’, ‘gather-up’ edition to obstruct the progress – and sales – of Poems (1721). Ramsay was a shrewd businessman: as his complaint to the Town Council illustrates, he was willing to take legal action against any printers who would jeopardise his earnings and tarnish his textual record. In fact, there is no evidence that Ramsay ever acted in a way that would endanger his own earnings: for instance, when he first printed The Gentle Shepherd as a ballad opera in 1729, Ramsay did not publish the additional songs in that edition, instead directing readers to their texts in his Tea-Table Miscellany, thereby maximising his book sales and his income. In the case of Poems (1721), the ‘gather-up’ had the potential to affect Ramsay’s relationship with his prestigious subscribers, appearing, as it did, while Ramsay was gathering subscriptions for his upcoming collected works. Moreover, in his Dedication to Poems (1728), Ramsay refers to ‘My First Volume, printed seven Years ago’: with this evidence, the poet regarded Poems (1721) as his first authorised edition. The textual and bibliographical realities of the ‘gather-up’ edition render it unstable and volatile, making the selection of a ‘representative’ copy misleading, but this is not the chief reason for excluding it from the list of textual sources here. Far more significant than its textual instability is the lack of documentary evidence linking Ramsay to that edition, and the contextual evidence which suggests that it was printed without his authority. The ‘gather-up’ edition of c.1720 is not, therefore, regarded as an authorised textual source, and does not feature in our lists of textual variants against the copy-text of Poems (1721). Paratextual material – including subscription lists, dedications, prefaces, Ramsay’s own annotations and glossaries – are presented within the copy-text for Poems (1721) and (1728). Ramsay often gives extensive explanatory footnotes to his texts; these have been preserved in the copy-text as footnotes, while editorial annotations are given in end notes. Where the two subscriber’s editions of Poems incorporate 24

Introduction

a previous publication, such as Scots Songs (1718) in Poems (1721) and Fables and Tales (1723) in Poems (1728), the previous edition’s preface and dedication are given in the end notes. Variants are recorded between the copy-text, extant manuscript drafts and fair copies, as well as previous, authorised publications; again, these are given within end notes for each text. Poems (1721) features an extensive glossary of the Scots language terms used by Ramsay, with many illustrative proverbs within the definitions; Ramsay then expands that glossary for Poems (1728), adding new Scots terms and, in the process, cutting the proverbs from the entries for 1721. In order to preserve all of Ramsay’s definitions, the glossary for Poems (1728), which is the fullest, is the core copy-text for the glossary here, with Ramsay’s longer definitions from 1721 preserved in square brackets. Although Ramsay’s glossaries are very full, they are not entirely comprehensive: they do not include all Scots words used in Poems of 1721 and 1728, and do not cover the texts which were uncollected and unpublished in his lifetime. Where a new definition is added to Ramsay’s existing glossary retrospectively, John Jamieson’s Etymological Dictionary of the Scots Language, first printed in 1808, is the preferred source. Where Jamieson lacks a particular definition, it is taken from the Scottish National Dictionary, which incorporates the Dictionary of the Older Scottish Tongue. Any additions to Ramsay’s glossaries are indicated by their source in brackets. Poems (1728) reprints the 1725 edition of The Gentle Shepherd. Given the centrality of this text to Ramsay’s literary career, and its complex progression from a pastoral dialogue poem through to a play and, finally, a commercially successful ballad opera, it is printed in a separate edition in Edinburgh’s University Press’s Collected Works of Allan Ramsay. Although manuscripts for The Gentle Shepherd survive, they were not prepared for Poems (1728): the text is therefore presented here as it was printed in 1728, accompanied by explanatory annotations. A full account of the play’s evolution is given in Steve Newman and David McGuinness (eds), The Gentle Shepherd (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2022): readers are also directed to this edition for a full textual and musical history of the play, as well as a detailed account of its various manuscript sources.

25

Poems

Uncollected and Unpublished Poems Ramsay’s uncollected and unpublished works are roughly equal in number to those published in his subscribers’ editions. This third section of Ramsay’s poetic works therefore encompasses all known poetic texts which were not printed in Poems (1721) or Poems (1728) and uncollected elsewhere. Poems of Ramsay’s composure which were collected in The Ever Green are not included here; these texts will be printed in the forthcoming Edinburgh University Press edition of The Ever Green. The sources for these uncollected and unpublished texts are diverse. Several are taken from the enlarged, second edition of Ramsay’s Poems (1728), printed in 1729, while others had their first publications in the periodical press, in standalone pamphlets or as part of poetry and song collections. Most of the texts in this section are, however, only extant in manuscript, and were never published in Ramsay’s lifetime. The copy-text here is derived from these multifarious sources. When a poem is published while Ramsay was alive, its first printing is taken as copy-text, and variants between the printed text and any surviving manuscript sources are given in the notes. Texts which are published but uncollected are, therefore, treated in the same way as the copy-text for Poems (1721) and Poems (1728). When a text is not published in Ramsay’s lifetime, the copytext is based on its manuscript source and posthumous printings are noted. In constructing copy-text from Ramsay’s manuscripts, certain challenges must be met. When more than one manuscript source exists for one poem, fair copies are preferred for copy-text here; otherwise, the fullest version or, if it can be discerned, the latest manuscript text provides the copy-text. The copy-text is constructed from diplomatic transcriptions of autograph manuscripts. While Ramsay does prepare fair copies of his poems and some of his manuscript drafts are clean, others – especially those contained in the British Library’s Egerton 2023 manuscript collection – are often in messy draft form with numerous cancellations, variants, marginalia and numbered reordering of stanzas. In order to make these manuscript texts readable, cancellations, additions, variants and marginalia are included in the end notes, and any deviation in presentation from the manuscript source in copytext is indicated there. Ramsay’s spelling in his manuscripts is inconsistent and eccentric, and he rarely includes punctuation in his drafts, pointing to the fact that his printer and publisher, Thomas Ruddiman, 26

Introduction

was likely to have had a strong hand in the preparation and presentation of Ramsay’s poems for the press. Ramsay’s spelling has not been altered here among his unpublished works, except in cases where a misspelling alters the sense and suggests a different word: in these cases, editorial interventions are indicated by square brackets. Likewise, punctuation has not been added retrospectively, for two reasons: firstly, the copy-text for his unpublished works is intended here to be as close to Ramsay’s manuscript text as possible via renderings of diplomatic transcription; secondly, the addition of punctuation would merely represent twenty-first century textual presentation standards, which differ from those of the early eighteenth century. There are further quirks in Ramsay’s manuscript texts. Significant among these is his regular presentation of ‘f’ and ‘u’ as ‘ff’ and ‘ŭ’ in manuscript drafts. These presentational idiosyncrasies were corrected in published versions of the text by Ruddiman, and they are not included in copy-text here. Ramsay’s use of them is, however, preserved in the end notes. Ramsay’s ‘ff’, which stands at times for ‘f’ and at others for ‘F’, is inconsistent and not easily explicable. His use of ‘ŭ’ may stem from his work on the Bannatyne Manuscript, from which Ramsay sourced the text for Canto I of his version of Christ’s Kirk on the Green, as well as texts for his collection of older Scots poetry, The Ever Green. Throughout the Bannatyne Manuscript, the breve symbol is often used above the letter ‘a’. Thanks to analysis of variants between the manuscript and print versions of ‘Christ’s Kirk on the Green’, it is now possible to pin-point Ramsay’s first consultation of the Bannatyne Manuscript to 1718: his use of the ‘ŭ’ increases after this point, perhaps signifying that Ramsay associated its use with older Scots language and made attempts to replicate the antiquated modes of presentation he had seen in the Bannatyne collection. These readings of ‘ff’ and ‘ŭ’ in Ramsay’s manuscripts are necessarily speculative, given that Ramsay’s utilisation of them is multi-functional and unpredictable. Significantly, these presentational marks never played any role in contemporary print versions of Ramsay’s texts but are a definite feature of his outputs in manuscript. It is for these reasons that they are recorded in the notes rather than in the copy-text here.38 Cancellations, where they are legible, are indicated in the See also Craig Lamont, ‘The Ramsay “ŭ”: minims, stress marks, and the unknown’, Research Paper prepared for the Edinburgh edition of Allan Ramsay, 2018. 38

27

Poems

notes with the text struck through, while additions take their place in the copy-text. Where Ramsay has revisited the ordering of stanzas and indicated their new order via numbering, the copy-text presents the revised order, and Ramsay’s editorial process is described in the end notes. Ramsay’s manuscript drafts are often accompanied by marginalia and doodles: the British Library’s manuscript copy of ‘Health’ (Egerton 2023, ff.28-33), for example, has a list of cooking terms and their definitions, such as ‘Fricassy—fryd in the Stove’, ‘Casarole a stew pan’ and ‘Salmongundin—Hotch potch of serv for meals stood a mingle-mangle’. Some of these terms are used in ‘Health’, but others are not: all marginalia of this sort are, however, preserved in our notes. The same editorial approach is taken in order to capture Ramsay’s habitual doodling on his manuscripts: these drawings are replicated in the notes for the poem at which they appear, and their positioning on the manuscript is indicated. Not all of Ramsay’s unpublished texts have titles. In the volumes of Ramsay’s work printed by the Scottish Text Society, the editors added their own titles, based on the content or form of the poem. While some of these titles are serviceable, the sometimes fragmentary nature of Ramsay’s manuscript poems gives rise to numerous texts entitled ‘[Fragment of a Song]’ or ‘[Epigram]’ in the Scottish Text Society edition, making it difficult to distinguish between texts. Titles given by Ramsay are preserved here; otherwise, no title is given. All poems can be found via the ‘Index of First Lines’, in which titles provided by Ramsay are given in brackets. While some manuscript poems can be dated – either because Ramsay has dated the text himself, or external sources provide evidence of the poem’s date of composition – others cannot. Where dating of individual texts is possible, uncollected and unpublished poems are presented in chronological order. Poems which cannot be dated are ordered according to their form, theme or subject matter. Evidence which has since come to light allows the dating of some texts which were not given dates in the Scottish Text Society edition. Following the collection of Ramsay’s uncollected and unpublished poems is a small group of eight texts headed ‘Dubia’. These poems have been associated with Ramsay in various ways, but there is as yet no definitive evidence of his authorship. These texts often come with shreds of provenance, such as a contemporary transcription claiming Ramsay’s authorship, but when no other witness has been 28

Introduction

located and no additional corroborating evidence has been found, they have not been accepted unequivocally as Ramsay’s. Two cases of ‘dubia’ are songs – ‘Banks of Forth’ and a fragment of a song beginning, ‘I had a Rock & a wee Pickle Tow’ – which are in manuscript in Ramsay’s hand, but have been found in other sources, suggesting that Ramsay transcribed them for his records. Given that these transcriptions are not entirely faithful to the contemporary printed texts, they are included as ‘dubia’ here because, while they are not entirely of Ramsay’s composition, they may be regarded as his adaptations of existing songs. The present text offers the first comprehensive and consistent edition of Ramsay’s poems. It makes full use of all extant manuscript and print sources to provide detailed information on Ramsay’s complex publishing history, giving detailed lists of variants between holograph manuscripts and authorised print editions, as well as thorough contextual annotation and extensive paratexual apparatus. The edition incorporates around ninety manuscripts not recorded or mislocated in the twentieth-century Scottish Text Society edition, as well as poems and printed editions which have since come to light. It features a wide-ranging glossary based on Ramsay’s glossaries for his editions of 1721 and 1728, which demonstrates Ramsay’s underresearched contribution to the development of Scots lexicography. It is hoped that the new archival and textual research undertaken for Poems will transform the critical reception of Allan Ramsay in the twenty-first century, providing stable texts for further research and analysis, as well as enhancing our knowledge of his early eighteenthcentury historical, political, religious and literary contexts. The textual archaeology undertaken for this edition shows Ramsay to be vibrant and consistent poet who innovates while he preserves and carefully maintains the Scots language, its forms and literary traditions. It shows him to be an extraordinarily productive and connected author, who essentially sets the agenda for what was to come in eighteenthcentury Scottish literature. Here, we see Ramsay at the centre of Scottish cultural life for a fifty-year period: in his promotion of a ‘distinctive national voice’,39 Ramsay is a crucial catalyst for the development of Scottish poetry.

39

Pittock, ‘Allan Ramsay and the Decolonisation of Genre’, p.316. 29

POEMS (1721)

Title-page of Poems 1721 Reproduced courtesy of the National Library of Scotland Shelfmark H.29.a.20

To the most Beautiful, T H E

SCOTS LADIES.

Fair Patronesses,

your innocent Diversion, and to invite those engaging Smiles FOR which heighten your other Beauties, the most part of my Poems

were wrote, having had the Pleasure to be sometimes approv’d by you, which was the Mark I chiefly aim’d at. Allow me then to lay the following Collection at your Feet; accept of it as a grateful Return of every Thought happily express’d by me, they being less owing to my natural Genius, than to the Inspiration of your Charms. I shall hope to be excus’d, when I drop the common Form, and enter not into a Detail of your Qualities, altho the fairest Field for Panegyrick, but too extensive for a Dedication, and many of them the Subjects which embellish the whole Book. With Difficulty I curb my self, and decline so delightful a Theme: The ravishing Images crowd upon me ; but I’ll reserve them for Numbers. Prose is too low, and looks affected, when dress’d in the Ornaments of Panegyrick. Dear Ladies, pardon my Escapes, and honour me always with your indulgent Protection, and allow me ever to be, May it please your Ladyships, Your most humble, Most obedient, And most faithful Edinb. 14. July

Servant, 1721.



Allan Ramsay.

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T H E

P R E F A C E. some of the least of my Diversions to see one Part of the World laughing T atIS the other, yet all seem fully satisfied with their own Opinions and Abil-

ities; but I shall never quarrel with any Man whose Temper is the reverse of mine, and enters not into the Taste of the same Pleasures. ’Tis as ridiculous for one to be disobliged at another’s different Way of Thinking, as it is to challenge him for having a Nose not of a Shape with his. Every Man is born with a particular Bent, which will discover itself in Spite of all Opposition. Mine is obvious, which since I knew, I never inclined to curb; but rather encouraged my self in the Pursuit, tho many Difficulties lay in my Way. Whether Poetry be the most elevated, delightful and generous Study in the World, is more than I dare affirm; but I think so. Yet I am afraid, when the following Miscellany is examined, I shall not be found to deserve the eminent Character that belongs to the Epick Master,1 whose Fire and Flegm is equally blended. — But Anacreon,2 Horace3 and Waller4 were Poets, and had Souls warmed with true Poetick Flame, altho their Patience fell short of those who could bestow a Number of Tears on the finishing one Heroick Poem, and justly claim the Preeminence. If I know any Faults in my own Productions, I am not fool enough to blaze them: Perhaps they may be overlook’d by the Indulgence of my best Friends, for whom I write. — ’Tis not to be doubted that I have Enemies; yes, I have been honoured with three or four Satyrs,5 but such wretched Stuff, that several of my Friends would alledge upon me that I had wrote and published them my self (none of the worst Politicks I own) to make the World believe I had no Foes but Fools. Such Pendants as confine Learning to the critical Understanding of the dead Languages, while they are ignorant of the Beauties of their Mother Tongue, do not view me with a friendly Eye: but I’m even with them, when I tell them to their Faces, without Blushing, that I understand Horace but faintly Homer: author of the Odyssey and the Iliad, foundational epic poems in ancient Greek literature. 2 Anacreon (c.582-c.485 BC): lyric poet in ancient Greece. 3 Quintus Horatius Flaccus (65-8 BC), known as Horace, the foremost Roman poet of the Augustan era, known for his Odes, Satires and Epistles. 4 Edmund Waller (1606-87), English politician and poet. 5 Ramsay was the subject of a handful of anonymously published satires prior to the publication of Poems (1721), including ‘A Satyr upon Allan Ramsay, occasioned upon a Report of his Translating Horace’ (c.1720, NLS RB.I.106), ‘An Habbyac on the Death of Allan Ramsay’, ‘Allan Ramsay Metamorphosed to a Hather-Bloter Poet’ (Mitchell Library, Glasgow) and ‘A Block for Allan Ramsay’s Wigs, or, the Famous Poet, fall’n in a Sleep’ (c.1720, NLS, Ry.III.a.10 (115)). 1

34

Preface in the Original, and yet can feast on his beautiful Thoughts dress’d in British; — and do not see any great Occasion for every Man’s being made capable to translate the Classicks, when they are so elegantly done to his Hand. Nor do I value tho Doctor Bentley6 heard this: And perhaps it had been no worse for the great Lyrick, that this same Doctor had understood the Latin Tongue as little as I. — If this Paragraph chance to raise a Nest of Wasps, let them read the next to blunt their Stings. My chearful Friends will pardon (a very essential Qualification of a Poet) my Vanity, when in self Defence I inform the Ignorant, that many of the finest Spirits, and of the highest Quality and Distinction, eminent for Literature, and Knowledge of Mankind, from an Affability which ever accompanies great Minds, tell me, “They are pleased with what I have done; and add, That my small Knowledge of the dead or Foreign Languages is nothing to my Disadvantage. King David,7 Homer and Virgil,8 say they, were more ignorant of the Scots and English Tongue, than you are of Hebrew, Greek and Latin: Pursue your own natural Manner, and be an original.” One may very easily imagine that I hear this with Abundance of secret Satisfaction and Joy; the Ladies too are on my side, they grace my Song with the Sweetness of their Voices, conn over my Pastoral, and smile at my innocent merry Tale. Thus shielded by the Brave and Fair, My Foes may envy, but despair. That I have exprest my Thought in my native Dialect, was not only Inclination, but the Desire of my best and wisest Friends; and most reasonable, since good Imagery, just Similies, and all Manner of ingenious Thoughts, in a well laid Design, disposed into Numbers, is Poetry.—Then good Poetry may be in any Language.— But some Nations speak rough, and their Words are confounded with a Multitude of hard Consonants, which makes the Numbers unharmonious. Besides, their Language is scanty; which makes a disagreeable Repetition of the same Words. — These are no Defects in our’s, the Pronunciation is liquid and sonorous, and much fuller than the English, of which we are Masters, by being taught in our Schools, and daily reading is; which being added to all our own native Words, of eminent Significancy, makes our Tongue by far the completest: For Instance, I can say, an empty House, a toom Barrel, a boss Head, and a hollow Heart. — Many such Examples might be given, but let this one suffice. I cannot here omit a Paragraph or two of a Preface, wrote by the Richard Bentley (1662-1742), English classical scholar and critic credited as the founder of Hellenism and historical philology. 7 David (c.1035-970 BC): second king of the United Kingdom of Israel according to Biblical tradition, renowned for his musicianship and psalms. 8 Publius Vergilius Maro (70-19 BC), generally referred to as Virgil, ancient Roman poet of the Augustan period, known for his epic poem, Aeneid, as well as his Georgics and Eclogues. 6

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Poems learned Dr. Sewel, to a London Edition of one of my Pastorals,9 after he has said some Things very handsomely in my Favour. — In behalf of our Language he expresses himself thus, The following Poem, if I am not mistaken (for I set up for no Critic) is a true and just Pastoral, abounding with those Beauties, which are either requir’d, or are to be found in the best esteem’d Pastorals. The Scotticisms, which perhaps may offend some over-nice Ear, give new Life and Grace to the Poetry, and become their Place as well as the Doric Dialect of Theocritus,10 so much admired by the best Judges. When I mention that Tongue, I bewail my own little Knowledge of it, since I meet with so many Words and Phrases so expressive of the Ideas they are intended to represent. A small Acquaintance with that Language, and our old English Poets, will convince any Man, that we spend too much Time in looking abroad for trifling Delicacies, when we may be treated at home with a more substantial, as well as a more elegant Entertainment. There are some of the following, which we commonly reckon English Poetry, such as the Morning Interview, Content, &c. but all their Difference from the others is only in the Orthography of some Words, such as from for frae, bold for bauld, and some few Names of things; and in those, tho the words be pure English, the Idiom or Phraseology is still Scots. Throughout the whole, I have only copied from Nature, and with all Precaution have studied, as far as it came within the Ken of my Observation and Memory, not to repeat what has been already said by others, tho it be next to impossible sometimes to stand clear of them, especially in the little Love-Plots of a Song. — There are towards the End of this Miscellany, five or six Imitations of Horace, which any acquainted with that Author will presently observe. — I have only snatched at his Thought and Method in gross, and dress’d them up in Scots, without confining my self to no more or no less; so that these are only to be reckoned a following of his Manner. This is all I think needful in Defence of my Book, and to keep it in Countenance with a Preface.

Ramsay refers to the London edition of his poem Patie and Roger (1720), which features a lengthy preface by George Sewell (bap. 1687-1726), physician and author. Ramsay’s quotation is taken from Sewell’s preface. See also ‘Patie and Roger’. 10 Theocritus (c.300-260 BC) is credited with creating pastoral poetry in ancient Greek. 9

36

On Mr. Ramsay's Poetical Works TO

Mr. ALLAN RAMSAY ON HIS

Poetical Works. Hail Nothern Bard ! thou Fav’rite of the Nine, Bright, or as Horace did, or Virgil shine. In ev’ry Part of what thou’st done we find How they, and great Apollo too, have joyn’d To furnish thee with an uncommon Skill, 5 And with Poetick Fire thy Bosom fill. Thy Morning Interview throughout is fraught With tuneful Numbers and Majestick Thought: And Celia, who her Lover’s Suit disdain’d, Is by all-powerful Gold at length obtain’d.

10

When Winter’s hoary Aspect makes the Plains Unpleasant to the Nymphs, and jovial Swains; Sweetly thou dos’t thy rural Couples call To Pleasures known within Edina’s Wall. When, Allan, thou, for Reasons thou know’st best, Doom’d busy Cowper to eternal Rest: What Mortal could thine El’gy on him read, And not have sworn he was defunct indeed? Yet, that he might not lose accustom’d Dues, You rous’d him from the Grave to open Pews; Such Magick, worthy Allan, hath thy Muse.

} Th’experienc’d Bawd, in aptest Strains thou’st made Early instruct her Pupils in their Trade; Left when their Faces wrinkled are with Age, They should not Cullies as when young engage. But on our Sex why art thou so severe, To wish for Pleasure we may pay so dear: Suppose that thou had’st after cheerful Juice, Met with a strolling Harlot wondrous spruce, And been by her prevail’d with to resort Where Claret might be drunk, or, if not, Port; Suppose, I say, that this thou granted had, And Freedom took with the enticing Jade; Would’st thou not hope some Artist might be found To cure, if ought you ail’d the smarting Wound? When of the Caledonian Garb you sing, (Which from Tartana’s distant Clime you bring,) With how much Force you recommend the Plaid, To ev’ry jolly Swain, and lovely Maid. 37

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Poems But if, as Fame reports, some of those Wights, Who canton’d are among the rugged Heights No Breeks put on, should’st thou not them advise, (Excuse me, Ramsay, if I am too nice) To take, as fitting ’tis, some speedy Care That what should hidden be appears not bare; Lest Damsels, yet unknowing, should by Chance, Their nimble Ogle t’wards the Object glance? If this thou dost, we, who the South Possess, May teach our Females how they ought to dress; But chiefly let them understand, ’tis meet They should their Legs hide more, if not their Feet, Too much by Help of Whale-bone now display’d, Ev’n from the Dutches to the Kitchen-maid; But with more Reason, those who give Distaste, When on their uncouth Limbs our Eyes we cast. Thy other Sonnets in each Stanza shew, What, when of Love you think, thy Muse can do. So movingly thou’st made the am’rous Swain, Wish on the Moor his Lass to meet again, That I, methinks, find an unusual Pain. Not hast thou, chearful Bard, exprest less Skill, When the brisk Lass you sang of Peattie’s-mill, Or Sussie, whom the Lad with yellow Hair Thou’st made in soft and pleasing Notes prefer To Nymphs less handsome, and constant, gay and fair.

} } In lovely Strains kind Nancy you address, And make fond Willie his coy Jean possess: Which done, thou’st blest the Lad in Nellie’s Arms, Who long had absent been ’midst dire Alarms. And artfully you’ve plac’d within the Grove, Jammie to hear his Mistress own her Love. A gentle Care you’ve found for Strephon’s Breast, By scornful Betty long depriv’d of Rest. And when the blissful Pairs you thus have crown’d, You’d have the Glass go merrily around To shake off Care, and render Sleep more sound.

}

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Who e’er shall see, or hath already seen, Those bonny Lines call’d Christ’s-kirk on the Green, Must own that thou hast, to thy lasting Praise, Deserv’d as well as Royal James the Bays. 80 ’Mong other Things you’ve painted to the Life, A Sot unactive lying by his Wife, Which oft ’twixt wedded Folks makes wofull Strife.

} When ’gainst the scribbling Knaves your Pen you drew, 38

On Mr. Ramsay's Poetical Works How didst thou lash the vile presumptuous Crew! Not much fam’d Butler, who had gone before, E’er ridicul’d his Knight, or Ralpho more; So well thou’s done it, equal Smart they feel, As if thou’d pierc’d their Hearts with killing Steel.

85

They thus subdu’d, you in pathetick Rhyme, A Subject undertook that’s more sublime, By noble Thoughts, and Words discreetly join’d, Thou’st taught me how I may Contentment find. And when to Addie’s Fame you touch’d the Lyre, Thou sang’st like one of the Seraphick Choir. So smoothly flow thy nat’ral rural Strains, So sweetly too, you’ve made the mournful Swains His Death lament, what mortal can forbear, Shedding like us upon his Tomb a Tear.

90

Go on, fam’d Bard, thou Wonder of our Days, And crown thy Head with never-fading Bays. While grateful Britons do thy Lines revere, And value, as they ought, their Virgil here.

95

100

J. Burchet. TO THE

A U T H O R. As once I view’d a rural Scene, With Summer’s Sweets profusely wild; Such Pleasure sooth’d my giddy Sense, I ravish’d stood, while Nature smil’d. Straight I resolv’d and chose a Field, Where all the Spring I might transfer; There stood the Trees in equal Rows, Here Flora’s Pride in one Parterre. The Task was done, the Sweets were fled, Each Plant had lost its sprightly Air, As if they grudg’d to be confin’d, Or to their Will not matched were. The narrow Scene displeas’d my Mind, Which daily still more homely grew: At length I fled the loathed Sight, And hy’d me to the Fields anew. Here Nature wanton’d in her Prime; 39

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Poems My Fancy rang’d the boundless Waste. Each different Sight pleas’d with Surprise, I welcom’d back the Pleasures past. Thus some who feel Apollo’s Rage, Would teach their Muse her Dress and Time, Till hamper’d so with Rules of Art, They smother quite the vital Fame. They daily chime the same dull Tone, Their Muse no daring Sallies grace, But stifly held with Bit and Curb, Keeps heavy Trot, tho equal Pace. But who takes Nature for his Rule, Shall by her gen’rous Bounty shine; His easy Muse revells at Will, And strikes new Wonders every Line.

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Keep then, my Friend, your native Guide, Never distrust her plenteous Store, Ne’er less propitious will she prove 35 Than now; but, if she can, still more. C. T. TO

Mr. Allan Ramsay. Too blindly partial to my native Tongue, Fond of the Smoothness of our English Song; At first thy Numbers did uncouth appear, And shock’d th’ affected Niceness of the Ear. Thro’ Prejudice’s Eye each Page I see; Tho all were Beauties, none were so to me. Yet sham’d at last, whilst all thy Genius own, To have that Genius hid from me alone; Resolv’d to find, for Praise or Censure, cause, Whether to join with all, or all oppose; Careful I read thee o’er and o’er again: At length the useful Search requites my Pain; My false Distaste to instant Pleasure’s turn’d, As much I envy as before I scorn’d: And thus the Error of my Pride to clear, I sign my honest Recantation here. C. Beckingham.

40

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To Mr. Ramsay on his Poems TO Mr. A L L A N R A M S A Y ON THE Publication of his Poems. Dear Allan, who that hears your Strains, Can grudge that you should wear the Bays, When ’tis so long since Scotia’s Plains Could boast of such melodious Lays? What tho the Criticks, snarling Curs! 5 Cry out, Your Pegasus wants Reins; Bid them provide themselves of Spurs; Such Riders need not fear their Brains. A Muse that’s healthy, fair and sound, With noble Ardor fearless hastes 10 O’er Hill and Dale; but Carpet-Ground Was ay for tender footed Beasts. E’en let the fustian Coxcombs chuse Their Carpet-Ground; but the green Field Was held a Walk for Virgil’s Muse, 15 And Virgil was an unco’ Chield! Your Muse, upon her native Stock Subsisting, raises thence a Name; While they are forc’d to pick the Lock Of other Bards, and pilfer Fame.

20

Oft when I read your joyous Lines, So full of pleasant Jests and Wit, So blyth and gay the Humor shines, It gives me many a merry Fit. Then when I hear of Maggy’s Charms, 25 And Roger tholing fair Disdain, The bonny Lass my Bosom warms, And mickle I bemoan the Swain. For who can hear the Lad complain, And not participate and feel His artless undissembled Pain, Unless he has a Heart of Steel. But Patie’s Wiles and cunning Arts Appease th’ imaginary Grief, Declare him well a Clown of Parts, And bring the wretched Wight Relief. 41

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Poems More might be said; but in a Friend Encomiums seem dull and flat, The Wise approve, but Fools commend, A Pope’s Authority for that. 40 Else certes ’twere in me unmet, To grudge the Muse’s utmost Force, Or spare in such a Cause my Feet, To clinch at least in Praise of yours. Ja. Arbuckle.

42

AN

Alphabetical List Of such of the Subscribers Names as have come to Hand.

A

William Baillie Esq; Governor of Guida. Robert Baillie, M.D. John Baillie of Edinburgh, Mert. John Baird Esq; of Newbyth Jun. Alexander Baird, Esq; Captain Arthur Balfour. James Balfour of Pilrig. Mr. James Barclay of Balmakeuan, Advocate. Captain John Bennet, of the Royal Regiment of blew Guards. William Bennet, Esq; of Grubbet, Junior. Mrs. Elizabeth Bennet. Henry Bethune of Edinb. Jeweller. Mr. Alexander Birnie, Advocate. Mr. Alexander Blackwood of Edinburgh Merchant. Mr. Walter Boswell. Alexander Brodie of that Ilk. Mr. William Brown Writer. Mr. James Brownhill. Alexander Bruce of Kenneth. Mr. David Bruce. Thomas Brugh of Leith Merchant. Arch. Buchanan of Drumikil. Francis Buchanan of Arnpryor. Mr. John Buchanan Writer. James Budge of Tostengal. Josiah Burchet, Esq; Secretary of the Admiralty. Gilbert Burnet, Esq; one of the Commissioners of Excise.

Duke of Argyle and Greenwich. Marquis of Annandale. Sir John Anstruther of that Ilk, Bar. Lady Margaret Anstruther. Captain James Abercromby. James Adam of Vogrie. Mr. William Aikman of Cairnie. Mr. Robert Alexander of Blackhouse, one of the principal Clerks of Session. Mr. John Alves, Advocate. Mr. David Anderson, Writer. Mr. Patrick Anderson, Writer. Mr. John Anderson. Jean Anderson Lady Logy-Wishart. Colonel Philip Anstruther. Mrs. Elizabeth Arthur. John Arbuthnot, M.D. Lond. John Arbuthnot of Bolton, Mert. James Arbuckle of Belfast, A.M.

B

Marquis of Bowmont, eldest Son to the Duke of Roxburgh. Earl of Broadalbin. Earl of Bute. Lord Blantire. Lord Binning, eldest Son to the Earl of Hadington. Sir William Bennet of Grubbet, Bar. Sir William Baird of Newbyth, Bar. Sir Robert Baird of Sauchtonhall, Bar. Sir Thomas Brand Knight, Usher of the Green Rod, and daily Waiter to his Majesty. The Right Honourable George Baillie of Jerviswood, one of the Commissioners of the Treasury. Mr. James Baillie Writer to the Sig.



C

Duke of Chandois. Marquis of Carnarvon, eldest Son to the Duke of Chandois. Earl of Crawford. Earl of Cassils. Earl of Caithness. 43

Poems William Cockburn, Esq; Andrew Cockburn of London, Mert. Thomas Cornwall of Bonhard. Mr. Jo. Crawfurd of Jordanhill, Adv. Mr. John Corse Writer. David Crawfurd of Allantoun. Robert Crawfurd, Esq; William Crawfurd, Esq; Charles Crockat of Edinb. Mert. Patrick Crisp, Esq; Comptroller of the Excise. George Cuming of Edinb. Mert. Mrs. Anna Cuningham. Mrs. Margaret Cuningham. Henry Cuningam of Buchquhan. John Cuningham of Pitairthy.

Earl of Carnwath. Lord Cranstoun. Lord Colvill. Lord Carnegie. Colonel Charles Cathcart, eldest Son to the Lord Cathcart. Sir William Calderwood of Polton, one of the Senators of the College of Justice. Sir Ja. Campbel of Ardkinlas, Bar. Sir Dun. Campbel of Lochnel, Bar. Sir James Carmichael of Bonnington, Bar. Sir William Cuningham of Capringtoun, Bar. Sir James Cuningham of Milncraig, Bar. for four Books. The Right Honourable John Campbel, Esq; Lord Provost of Edinb. Mr. James Callender Advocate. Donald Cameron of Loch-iol. Colonel Campbel of the Royal Regiment of the Scots Dragoons. Colonel Campbel of Finab. Jo. Campbel of Skipnish, Archbald Campbel of Rudel. James Campbel of Stonefield. Robert Campbel of Stockholm, Merchant. Colin Campbel, Esq; Charles Campbel, Esq; Mr. Archbald Campbel Writer to the Signet. Mr. Daniel Campbel Writer. William Carmichael of Edin. Mer. James Carnegie of Finhaven. Mr. William Castillaw. CaptainWalter Cheisly. Alexander Cleghorn of Edinb. Mert. The Honourable John Clerk, Esq; one of the Barons of the Exchequer. John Clerk, Esq; Son to Baron Clerk. John Clerk, M.D. Hugh Clerk of Edinb. Mert. Tho. Cocheran of Kilmaronach, Esq; Mr. Charles Cockburn, Adv. one of the Commissioners of Excise.



D

Duke of Douglas. Earl of Dalhousie. Lord Deskford, eldest Son to the Earl of Findlater. Lord John Drummond. Sir David Dalrymple of Hales, Bar. Sir John Dalrymple of Cowsland, Bar. Sir Robert Dalrymple of Castletoun. The Honourable George Dalrymple Esq; one of the Barons of Exch. Ja. Dalrymple of Hales, Junior. Mr. Hew Dalrymple, Advocate. Mr. Hugh Dalrymple, Advocate. William Dale, Esq; Mr. George Davidson Writer. John Don of Attenburn. Captain Thomas Don. William Don of Edinburgh Mert. Lodwick Donaldson Writer in Edin. James Donaldson of Edin. Mert. Richard Dowdeswell Esq; Secretary to the Board of Excise. William Douglas Junior of Glenbervie. Colonel William Douglas. Patrick Douglas of Edin. Merchant. David Drummond of Cultmalindie, Mr. George Drummond of Edin44

An Alphabetical List of Subscribers Advocate. John Forbes of Culloden for two Books. Mr. Duncan Forbes, Advocate, for four Books. Mr. John Forbes of Newhall Adv. Mr. Will. Forbes Writer to the Sig. Will. Fullerton of that Ilk. Tho. Fullerton of Galroe. John Fullerton Esq;

burgh Merchant. Mr. William Drummond of AbbotsGrange. Alex. Drummond of Edin. Mert. The Right Honourable Robert Dundas of Arnistoun Junior, Lord Advocate. James Dundas of Brestmill. Robert Dundas of Edin. Merchant.

E



Earl of Eglinton. Lord Elphinston. The Honourable Patrick Master of Elibank. The Honourable Mr. James Erskine of Grange, one of the Senators of the Colledge of Justice. The Honourable David Erskine of Dun, one of the Senators of the Colledge of Justice. The Honourable Mr. James Elphinston of Cowpar, one of the Senators of the Colledge of Justice. Sir Gilbert Elliot of Minto, Bar. for two Books. Sir John Erskine of Alva. Mr. John Edgar Advocate. Captain William Erskine. Mr. Charles Erskine, Brother to the Earl of Buchan, Advocate. Mr. David Erskine. Charles Eyre, Esq; Solicitor of the Customs of Scotland.

G

Duke of Gordon. Marquis of Graham, eldest Son to the D. of Montrose. Viscount of Garnock. Lord Garlies, eldest Son to the Earl of Galloway. The Honourable Master of Gray. Sir Robert Gordon of Gordonstoun, Bar. Sir Edward Gibson Bar. Sir William Gordon of Invergordon, Bar. Alex: Gibson of Paintland. Mr. Thomas Gibson Junior. William Gilmour of Craigmillar, Junior. Charles Gilmour Esq; Robert Glass of Bourdeaux, Mert. James Glen Esq; Bernham Good, Esq; Alexander Gordon of Ardoch. Adam Gordon of Dalpholly. Mr. George Gordon of Nethermuir Junior, Advocate. Mr. Thomas Gordon. Thomas Gordon Esq; Charles Gordon of Edinburgh, Merchant. Mr. James Graham Advocate, and Judge Admiral. Mungo Græme of Gorthy. David Graham of Orchel. James Grame of Bucklivie Junior. —— Graham of Colairn. Colonel William Grant. Mr. Archibald Grant, Advocate. Mr. John Grant Writer.

F

Lord Forrester. Sir Alexander Forbes of Foveran, Bar. Nicholas Fenwick Esq; Mayor of Newcastle. Mr. John Fergus of Edinburgh Merchant. Mr. James Fergusson of Pitfour Advocate. Alexander Ferrer of Dundee Mert. Mr. Tho. Finlay Writer to the Sig. Mr. Andrew Fletcher of Salton Jun. 45

Poems Mr. John Hog Collector of the Cess of Edinburgh. —— Hume of Kames. John Hume Chamberlain to the Duke of Roxburgh. William Hutton of Leith Mert. I

Mr. James Gregory Professor of Mathematicks at Edinburgh. Mr. Charles Gregory Professor of Mathematicks at St. Andrews.

H

Duke of Hamilton and Brandon. Earl of Hadingtoun. Earl of Hoptoun. Lord Hope, eldest Son to the Earl of Hoptoun. Lord James Hay, Brother to the Marquis of Twedale. The Hon. Captain John Hamilton, eldest Son to the Lord Belhaven. Sir Andrew Hume of Kimmerghame, one of the Senators of the Colledge of Justice. Sir James Hall of Dunglass, Bar. Sir Ja. Hamilton of Rosehall, Bar. Mungo Haldane of Gleneagles. Patrick Haldane Esq; Mr. Andrew Haliburton Writer to the Signet. George Haliburton of Edin. Mert. Mr. Basil Hamilton. Mrs. Margaret Hamilton. John Hamilton of Pancaitland Junior. Alex. Hamilton of Dechmont. Mr. Arch. Hamilton of Dalziel, Adv. Mr. Archibald Hamilton. Lieutenant William Hamilton. Robert Hamilton of Edin. Mert. Hugh Hawthorn of Edin. Mert. Robert Hay of Naughton. Mrs. Helen Hay. John Hay of Hops. Magnus Henderson of Gardie. James Hepburn Riccard of Keith Junior. Robert Hepburn of Beanstoun. John Hepburn of Humby. Patrick Hepburn of Smeaton. Mr. Rob. Hepburn Writ. to the Sig. Henry Hepburn Chirurgeon. Robert Heriot of Ramornie. Aaron Hill Esq; for six Books.

Earl of Ilay. Lord William Johnstoun Son to the late Marq. of Annandale. Sir John Inglis of Cramond, Bart. William Jamison of Leith Mert. Mr. James Johnstoun of Westerhall Junior, Advocate. Robert Johnstoun of Kelton. Mr. George Irvine of Newton Writer to the Signet.

K

Earl of Kintore. Earl of Kinnoul. Lord Kinaird. Lord John Ker, Son to the late Marquess of Lothian. The Honourable Colonel Ker, Brother to the D. of Roxburgh. Sir Francis Kinloch of Gilmertoun, Bar. Sir William Ker of Greenhead, Bar. Mr. William Keir. Robert Keith of Craig Jun. Mr. Alexander Keith Writer. The Hon. Thomas Kennedy one of the Barons of the Exchequer. And. Kennedy Esq; Conservator of the Scots Privileges at Campvere. William Kennedy Esq; Mr. Geo. Kennedy Writer to the Sig. John Ker of Frogton. Mr. Colin Kirk Writer to the Signet.

L

Marquis of Lothian. Earl of Lauderdale. Earl of Leven. Lord Lovat. 46

An Alphabetical List of Subscribers principal Clerks of the Session. Alex. Mackey of Palgowan. Mr. Alexander M’millan Writer. John M’naughton of that Ilk. Alexander Maitland of Edinb. Mert. William Martin of Harwood. Captain John Medden. Mr. Alexander Menzies of Culterallers, Advocate. John Miller of Glenlee. Robert Mitchel of Fountainbrigs. William Mitchel of Leith, Mert. Mr. Joseph Mitchel for 3 Books. Colonel Monro of Fowlis. Colonel Montgomery. James Monteith of Auldcathy Junior. Mr. Robert Menteath. Mr. David Morison Writer. Robert Moor of Blairstoun, Provost of Air. —— Murray of Abercarnie. Alex. Murray of Broughton. Alex. Murray of Stanhope Jun. James Murray of Scotscraig. John Murray of Cavens. Patrick Murray of Cherrytrees. Richard Murray of Mugdrum.

Lord Lesly, eldest Son to the Earl of Rothes. Mr. William Lindsay Brother to the Earl of Crawfurd. Mr. Charles Lesly, Son to the Earl of Rothes. Sir James Lockhart of Carstairs. John Laing of Edinburgh Mert. John Lindsay of St. Andrews Mert. for 7 Books. Patrick Lindsay of Edin. Mert. Robert Lindsay of Edin. Mert. William Livingstoun present Conveener of the Crafts of Edin. Mr. George Livingstoun one of the Clerks of the Session. Mr. Lockhart of Carnwath Jun. George Lockhart of Douglas, Mert. Mr. Lumsdane Writer to the Signet. Mr. William Lumsdane Writer.

M

Duke of Montrose. Earl of Murray. Earl of March. Lady Mary Macdonel. Sir James Mackenzie of Roystoun, one of the Senators of the College of Justice. Sir William Maxwell of Calderwood Bar. Sir Robert Montgomery of Skelmorlie, Bar. Sir Rob. Menzies of that Ilk, Bar. Sir Alex. Maxwell of Monreith, Bar. John Maitland Esq; Brother to the Earl of Lauderdale. Archbald M’Aulay of Ardincaple. Archbald M’Aulay of Edin. Mert. Mrs. Barbara Macdougal. Walter Macfarlane of that Ilk. Mr. John Macfarlane Writer to the Signet. Andrew Macfarlane of Gullich. Alexander Macgill Architect. Mr. John Macgovan Writer to the Signet. Patrick Mackay of Cyderhall. Alexander Mackenzie, one of the



N

Lord Napier. The Honourable John Master of Nairn. Sir Richard Newton of that Ilk, Bar. Sir David Nairn. Sir James Nasmith of Posso, Bar. John Nairn of Segiden. James Nasmith of Earlshall. James Newlands of Edinb. Merchant. James Nimmo of Edinburgh Merchant. William Nisbet of Dirletoun. William Nisbet of Dirletoun, Jun. Alexander Nisbet Esq; Mrs. Nisbet. John Nisbet Chirurgeon. James Norie Painter. 47

Poems

O

Lord Rae. Lord Rollo. Lord Ramsay, eldest Son to the Earl of Dalhousie. Lady Anna Ramsay. The Honourable Master of Ross. Sir Alexander Ramsay of Balmain, Bar. Sir James Ramsay of Bamf, Bart. Mr. Andrew Ramsay Secretary to the late famous Arch-Bp. and Duke of Cambray. Gilbert Ramsay Chamberlain to the Duke of Roxburgh. Mungo Renny of Edinburgh Mert. William Richie of Edinburgh Mert. Richard Ridley Esq; for 2 Books. Samuel Rith Esq; for 2 Books. Major Robertson of the Royal Regiment of Scots Dragoons. Thomas Robertson of Downyhills. Robert Robertson of Aberdeen Mert. Captain Patrick Ronalds. The Honourable Charles Ross of Balnagowan. Colonel Alexander Ross. Hugh Ross of Kilravock. David Ross Esq; one of the Commissioners of Excise. David Ross Junior of Shandwick. Thomas Ruddiman, A.M. Mr. John Russel of Bradshaw.

Viscount of Oxenford. Mr. George Ogilvy Son to the Earl of Findlater. Mr. John Ouchterlony of Flemingtoun. John Ouchterlony of Guynd, Jun. Mr. John Ogilvy of Balbegno, Advocate. Captain James Ogilvy. Captain James Ogilvy of the Scots Fusileers. Mr. William Ogilvy. Anthony Osburn, Esq;

P

Earl of Portmore. Countess of Panmure. Lady Polwarth. Sir Robert Pringle of Stitchel, Bar. Sir Walter Pringle of Newhall, one of the Senators of the College of Justice. John Paterson of Prestonhall. Mr. James Paterson of Kirkton, Advocate. John Philips, Esq; Auditor of the Exchequer. Mr. James Pollock Writer. Mr. Alexander Pope. Brigadeer Preston. George Preston of Edinburgh Merchant. Robert Pringle of Clifton, Jun. Mrs. Christian Pringle. Mr. Thomas Pringle Writer to the Signet.



Earl of Strathmore. Lord Salton. Lord Somervail. Sir George Sinclair of Kinaird, Bar. Sir Rob. Sinclair of Longformacus, Bar. Sir William Scot of Thirlstane, Bar. Sir James Stewart of Goodtrees, Bar. Sir Richard Steele for two Books. Mr. Richard Savage. Walter Scot of Harden. Hercules Scot of Brothertoun. Mr. Hercules Scot Writer to the

Q

Duke of Queensberry and Dover.

S

R

Duke of Roxburgh. Countess of Roxburgh. Earl of Rothes. Earl of Roseberry. 48

An Alphabetical List of Subscribers Sir William Weir of Blackwood, Bar. Sir John Wedderburn. Andrew Wauchop of Niddrey Marishal. Andrew Wauchop of Edmistoun. George Waddel A.M. John Walker of Edinburgh Mert. —— Wardlaw of Abden. Mr. Hugh Warrander. Robert Watson of Murehouse. Mr. Alexander Wedderburn Advocate, one of the Commissioners of Excise. Mrs. Wedderburn. Mr. Peter Wedderburn Advocate. Daniel Weir of Stonebyers. Robert Welsted. Mr. West. —— White Esq; John Whiteford. Robert Wightman Merchant, and present Dean of Gild of Edinburgh. William Wightman Ship-master. Archibald Wightman of Edin. Mert. Abraham Wightman of Edin. Mert. Cornet William Wilkinson. Alexander Wilson of Edin. Mert. John Wilson Professor of the Mathematics. Mr. Robert Wood Secretary to the D. of Roxburgh.

Signet. Thomas Sharp of Blanse. Alexander Sharp of Edin. Mert. William Sinclair of Rosline. Patrick Sinclair of Brims. George Skreen of that Ilk. Major George Skeen his Lady. Lieutenant George Skeen of the Royal Scots Fusileers. John Smibert Painter. Mr. James Smith of Whitehill. Mr. George Smollet of Inglestoun Adv. Captain William Spence. Mr. John Steil. Robert Steil Esq; Luke Stockell Bookseller of London for six Books. George Strachan Bookseller of London, for six Books. Major James Stewart of Torence Jun. Mrs. Anna Stewart. Mr. Archbald Stewart. Mr. Henry Stewart-Barclay of Colernie, Advocate. William Stewart of Hartwood. James Stewart Attorney of the Court of Exchequer. Mr. Robert Stewart Professor of Philosophy in the University of Edinburgh. Robert Stewart of Aberdeen Merchant. Francis Sutherland of Force. James Sym his Majesties Sclater. Alexander Symmer Bookseller of Edin.



Captain Robert Urquhart of Burdsyards. Alexander Urquhart of Newhall.

T



Marquis of Twedale. Alexander Tait Esq; Jonathan Taylor of London. Mr. Archibald Tod Writer.

U

Y

George Yeaman of Dundee Mert. Mungo Yorstan of Edinburgh Goldsmith. David Young of Auldbar. John Young Esq; Robert Young of the Water of Leith. George Young Chirurgeon.

W

Earl of Wigtoun. Countess of Wemyss. 49

Poems THE

Morning Interview. Such killing Looks, so thick the Arrows fly, That ’tis unsafe to be a Stander by: Poets approaching to describe the Fight, Are by their Wounds instructed how to write. Waller, 130. WHEN silent Show’rs refresh the pregnant Soil, And tender Sallats eat with Tuscan Oil, Harmonious Musick gladdens ev’ry Grove, While bleating Lambkins from their Parents rove, And o’er the Plain the anxious Mothers stray, 5 Calling their tender Care with hoarser Bae. Now cheerful Zephyr from the Western Skies With easy Flight o’er painted Meadows flies, To kiss his Flora with a gentle Air, Who yields to his Embrace, and looks more fair. 10 When from Debauch with sp’rituous Juice opprest The Sons of Bacchus stagger Home to Rest, With tatted Wigs, foul Shoes, and uncock’d Hats, And all bedaub’d with Snuff their loose Cravats. The Sun began to sip the morning Dew, 15 As Damon from his restless Pillow flew. Him late from Celia’s Cheek a Patch did wound, A Patch high seated on the blushing Round. His painful Thoughts all Night forbid him Rest, And he employ’d that Night as one opprest; Musing Revenge, and how to countermine The strongest Force, and ev’ry deep Design Of Patches, Fans, of Necklaces and Rings, Ev’n Musick’s Pow’r, when Celia plays or sings. Fatigu’d with running Errands all the Day, Happy in want of Thought his Valet lay, Recruiting Strength with Sleep. — His Master calls, He starts with lock’d up Eyes, and beats the Walls. A second Thunder rouses up the Sot, He yawns and murmurs Curses through his Throat: Stockings awry, and Breeches-knees unlac’d And Buttons do mistake their Holes for Haste. His Master raves,— cries, Roger, make Dispatch, Time flies apace. He frown’d, and lookt his Watch: Haste, do my Wig, ty’t with the careless Knots, And run to Civet’s, let him fill my Box. Go to my Laundress, see what makes her stay, 50

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The Morning Interview And call a Coach and Barber in your Way. Thus Orders justle Orders in a Throng: Roger with laden Mem’ry trots along. His Errands done; with Brushes next he must Renew his Toil amidst perfuming Dust; The yielding Comb he leads with artful Care, Through crook’d Meanders of the flaxen Hair: E’er this perform’d he’s almost chok’d to Death, The Air is thicken’d, and he pants for Breath. The Trav’ler thus in the Numidian Plains, A Conflict with the driving Sands sustains. Two Hours are past, and Damon is equipt, Pensive he stalks, and meditates the Fight: Arm’d Cap-a-pee, in Dress a killing Beau, Thrice view’d his Glass, and thrice resolv’d to go, Flusht full of Hope to overcome his Foe. His early Pray’rs were all to Paphos sent, That Jove’s sea-daughter would give her Consent: Cry’d, Send thy little Son unto my Aid. Then took his Hat, tript out, and no more said.

}

What lofty Thoughts do sometimes push a Man Beyond the Verge of his own native Span! Keep low thy Thoughts, frail Clay, nor boast thy Pow’r; Fate will be Fate: And since there’s nothing sure, Vex not thy self too much, but catch th’auspicious Hour.

} The tow’ring Lark had thrice his Mattins sung, And thrice were Bells for pious Service rung. In Plaids wrapt up, Prudes throng the sacred Dome, And leave the spacious Petticoat at Home: While softest Dreams seal’d up fair Celia’s Eyes, She dreams of Damon, and forgets to rise. A sportive Sylph contrives the subtile Snare, Sylphs know the charming Baits which catch the Fair; She shews him handsome, brawny, rich and young, With Snuff-box, Cane, and Sword-knot finely hung, Well skill’d in Airs of Dangle, Toss and Rap, Those Graces which the tender Hearts entrap. Where Aulus oft makes Law for Justice pass, And CHARLES’s Statue stands in lasting Brass, Amidst a lofty Square which strikes the Sight, With spacious Fabricks of stupendous Hight; Whose sublime Roofs in Clouds advance so high, They seem the Watch-tow’rs of the nether Sky; Where once Alas! where once the Three Estates Of Scotland’s Parliament held free Debates: 51

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Poems Here Celia dwelt, and here did Damon move, Press’d by his rigid Fate, and raging Love. 85 To her Apartment straight the daring Swain Approach’d, and softly knock’d, nor knock’d in vain. The Nymph new wak’d starts from the lazy Down, And rolls her gentle Limbs in Morning-Gown: But half awake, she judges it must be Frankalia come to take her Morning Tea; 90 Cries, Welcome, Cousin. But she soon began To change her Visage, when she saw a Man: Her unfixt Eyes with various Turnings range, And pale Surprise to modest Red exchange: Doubtful ’twixt Modesty and Love she stands, 95 Then ask’d the bold Impertinent’s Demands. Her Strokes are doubled, and the Youth now found His Pains increase, and open ev’ry Wound. Who can describe the Charms of loose Attire? Who can resist the Flames with which they fire? 100 Ah, barbarous Maid! he cries, sure native Charms Are too too much: Why then such Store of Arms? Madam, I come, prompt by th’uneasy Pains, Caus’d by a Wound from you, and want Revenge; A borrow’d Pow’r was posted on a Charm: 105 A Patch, damn’d Patch! Can Patches work such Harm? He said; then threw a Bomb, lay hid within Love’s Mortar-piece, the Dimple of his Chin: It miss’d for once, she lifted up her Head, And blush’d a Smile, that almost stuck him dead, 110 Then cunningly retir’d, but he pursu’d Near to the Toilet, where the War renew’d. Thus the great Fabius often gain’d the Day O’er Hannibal, by frequent giving Way: So warlike Bruce and Wallace sometimes deign’d 115 To seem defeat, yet certain Conquest gain’d. Thus was he led in midst of Celia’s Room, Speechless he stood, and waited for his Doom: Words were but vain, he scarce could use his Breath, As round he view’d the Implements of Death. Her dreadful Arms in careless Heaps were laid In gay Disorder round her tumbled Bed: He often to the soft Retreat would stare, Still wishing he might give the Battel there. Stunn’d with the Thought, his wand’ring Looks did stray To where lac’d Shoes and her silk Stockings lay, And Garters which are never seen by Day. His daz’ld Eyes almost deserted Light; No Man before had ever got the Sight,

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125

The Morning Interview A Lady’s Garters, Earth! their very Name, Tho yet unseen, sets all the Soul on Flame. The Royal Ned knew well their mighty Charms,1 Else he’d ne’er hoop’d one round the English Arms. Let barb’rous Honours crown the Sword and Lance, Thou next their King does British Knights advance, O Garter! Honi soit qui mal y pense.

}

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135

O who can all these hidden Turns relate, That do attend on a rash Lover’s Fate! In deep Distress the Youth turn’d up his Eyes, As if to ask Assistance from the Skies. 140 The Petticoat was hanging on a Pin, Which the unlucky Swain star’d up within: His curious Eyes too daringly did rove, Around this oval conick Vault of Love: Himself alone can tell the Pain he found, 145 While his wild Sight survey’d forbidden Ground. He view’d the ten-fold Fence, and gave a Grone, His trembling Limbs bespoke his Courage gone: Stupid and pale he stood, like Statue dumb, The amber Snuff dropt from his careless Thumb. 150 Be silent here, my Muse, and shun a Plea May rise betwixt old Bickerstaff and me; For none may touch a Petticoat but he.

} Damon thus foil’d, breath’d with a dying Tone, Assist ye Powers of Love, else I am gone. The ardent Pray’r soon reach’d the Cyprian Grove, Heard and accepted by the Queen of Love. Fate was propitious too, her Son was by, Who ’midst his dread Artillery did ly Of Flanders Lace, and Straps of curious Dy. On India Muslin Shades the God did loll, His Head reclin’d upon a tinsy Roll.

} The Mother Goddess thus her Son bespoke, “Thou must, my Boy, assume the Shape of Shock, “And leap to Celia’s Lap; whence thou may slip “Thy Paw up to her Breast, and reach her Lip: “Strike deep thy Charms, thy pow’rful Art display, “To make young Damon Conqueror to Day. “Thou need not blush to change thy Shape, since Jove “Try’d most of brutal Forms to gain his Love; “Who that he might his loud Saturnia gull, “For fair Europa’s Sake inform’d a Bull.

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170

132. The Royal Ned ] Edward III. King of England who established the most honourable Order of the Garter.

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Poems She spoke — Not quicker does the Lamp of Day Dart on the Mountain Tops a gilded Ray, Swifter than Lightning flies before the Clap, 175 From Cyprus Isle he reach’d Celia’s Lap: Now fawns, now wags his Tail, and licks her Arm; She hugs him to her Breast, nor dreads the Harm. So in Ascanius Shape, the God unseen Of old deceiv’d the Carthaginian Queen. 180 So now the subtile Pow’r his Time espies, And threw two barbed Darts in Celia’s Eyes: Many were broke before he cou’d succeed; But that of Gold flew whizzing though her Head: These were his last Reserve. — When others fail, 185 Then the refulgent Metal must prevail. Pleasure produc’d by Money now appears, Coaches and Six run rattling in her Ears. O Liv’ry Men! Attendants! Houshold-plate! Court-posts and Visits! pompous Air and State! 190 How can your Splendor easy Access find, And gently captivate the fair one’s Mind? Success attends, Cupid has plaid his Part, And sunk the pow’rful Venom to her Heart. She cou’d no more, she’s catched in the Snare, 195 Sighing she fainted in her easy Chair. No more the sanguine Streams in Blushes glow, But to support the Heart all inward flow, Leaving the Cheek as cold and white as Snow. Thus Celia fell, or rather thus did rise: 200 Thus Damon made, or else was made a Prize; For both were Conquerors, and both did yield, First she, now he, is Master of the Field.

}

Now he resumes fresh Life, abandons Fear, Jumps to his Limbs, and does more gay appear. Not gaming Heir when his rich Parent dies, Not Zealot reading Hackney’s Party-lies, Not soft Fifeteen on her Feet-washing Night, Not Poet when his Muse sublimes her Flight, Not an old Maid for some young Beauty’s Fall, Not the long tending Stibler at his Call,2 Not husband-man in Drought when Rain descends, Not Miss when Limberham his Purse extends,3 E’er knew such Raptures as this joyful Swain, When yielding, dying Celia calm’d his Pain. The rapid Joys now in such Torrents roul, That scarce his Organs can retain his Soul. 211. Stibler ] A Probationer. 213. Limberham ] A kind Keeper.

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The Morning Interview Victor he’s gen’rous, courts the Fair’s Esteem, And takes a Bason fill’d with limpid Stream, Then from his Fingers form’d an artful Rain, Which rouz’d the dormant Spirits of her Brain, And made the purple Channels flow again. She lives, he sings; she smiles, and looks more tame: Now Peace and Friendship is the only Theme.

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The Muse owns freely here she does not know If Language pass’d between the Belle and Beau, Or if in Courtship such use Words or no.4 But sure it is there was a Parley beat, And mutual Love finisht the proud Debate. Then to complete the Peace and seal the Bliss, He for a Diamond Ring receiv’d a Kiss Of her soft Hand.— Next the aspiring Youth, With eager Transports press’d her glowing Mouth. So by Degrees the Eagles teach their Young To mount on high and stare upon the Sun.

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A sumptuous Entertainment crowns the War, And all rich Requisites are brought from far. The Table boasts its being from Japan, Th’ingenious Work of some great Artisan. China, where Potters coarsest Mould refine, That Rays through the transparent Vessels shine; The costly Plates and Dishes are from thence, And Amazonia must her Sweets dispence;5 To her warm Banks our Vessels cut the Main, For the sweet Product of her luscious Cane. Here Scotia does not costly Tribute bring, Only some Kettles full of Todian Spring.6 Where Indus and the double Ganges flow, On odorif’rous Plains the Leaves do grow, Chief of the Treat, a Plant the Boast of Fame. Sometimes call’d Green, Bohea’s its greater Name.

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O happiest of Herbs! Who would not be Pythagoriz’d into the Forms of thee, And with high Transports act the Part of Tea? Kisses on thee the haughty Belles bestow, 255 While in thy Steams their coral Lips do glow; Thy Vertues and thy Flavour they commend, While Men, even Beaux, with parched Lips attend.

}

227. Use Words ] It being alledged that the Eloquence of this Specie lies in the Elegance of Dress. 243. Amazonia ] A famous River in South America, where we have our Sugar. 247. Todian Spring ] Tod’s-Well, which supplies the City with Water.

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Poems

E P I L O G U E. THE Curtain’s drawn: Now gen’rous Reader say, Have ye not read worse Numbers in a Play? 260 Sure here is Plot, Place, Character and Time, All smoothly wrought in good firm British Rhime. I own ’tis but a Sample of my Lays, Which asks the Civil Sanction of your Praise. Bestow’t with Freedom, let your Praise be ample, 265 And I my self will show you good Example. Keep up your Face, altho dull Criticks squint, And cry, with empty Nod, There’s Nothing in’t: They only mean there’s Nothing they can use; Because they find most where there’s most Refuse. 270

ELEGY ON

MAGGY JOHNSTON, who died Anno 1711.7 Auld Reeky mourn in Sable Hue,8 Let Fouth of Tears dreep like May Dew, To braw Tippony bid Adieu,9 Which we with Greed Bended as fast as she cou’d brew, 5 But ah! she’s dead. To tell the Truth now Maggy dang,10 Of Customers she had a Bang; For Lairds and Souters a’ did gang To drink bedeen, 10 The Barn and Yard was aft sae thrang, We took the Green.

Maggy Johnston liv’d about a Mile Southward of Edinburgh, kept a little Farm, and had a particular Art of brewing a small Sort of Ale agreeable to the Taste, very white, clear and intoxicating, which made People who lov’d to have a good Pennyworth for their Money be her frequent Customers. And many others of every Station, sometimes for Diversion, thought it no Affront to be seen in her Barn or Yard. 1. Auld Reeky ] A Name the Country People give Edinburgh from the Cloud of Smoke or Reek that is always impending over it. 3. To braw Tippony ] She sold the Scots Pint, which is near two Quarts English, for Two-pence. 7. Maggy dang ] He dings, or dang, is a phrase which means to excel or get the better.

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Elegy on Maggy Johnston And there by Dizens we lay down, Syne sweetly ca’d the Healths arown, To bonny Lasses black or brown, 15 As we loo’d best; In Bumpers we dull Cares did drown, And took our Rest. When in our Poutch we fand some Clinks, And took a Turn o’er Bruntsfield-Links,11 20 Aften in Maggy’s at Hy-jinks,12 We guzl’d Scuds, Till we cou’d scarce wi hale out Drinks Cast aff our Duds. We drank and drew, and fill’d again 25 O wow but we were blyth and fain! When only had their Count mistain, I it was nice. To hear us a’ cry, Pike ye’r Bain13 And spell ye’r Dice. 30 Fou closs we us’d to drink and rant, Until we did baith glowre and gaunt, And pish and spew, and yesk and maunt, Right swash I true; Then of auld Stories we did cant 35 Whan we were fou.

20. Bruntsfield-Links ] Fields between Edinburgh and Maggy’s, where the Citizens commonly play at the Gowff. 21. Hy-jinks ] A drunken Game, or new Project to drink and be rich; this, The Quaff or Cup is fill’d to the Brim, then one of the Company takes a Pair of Dice, and after crying Hy-jinks, he throws them out: The Number he casts up points out the Person must drink, he who threw, beginning at himself Number One, and so round till the Number of the Person agree with that of the Dice, (which may fall upon himself if the Number be within Twelve;) then he sets the Dice to him, or bids him take them: He on whom they fall is obliged to drink, or pay a small Forfeiture in Money; then throws, and so on: But if he forget to cry Hy-jinks he pays a Forfeiture into the Bank. Now he on whom it falls to drink, if there be any Thing in Bank worth drawing, gets it all if he drinks. Then with a great Deal of Caution he empties his Cup, sweeps up the Money, and orders the Cup to be fill’d again, and then throws; for if he err in the Articles, he loses the Privilege of drawing the Money. The articles are, (1) Drink, (2) Draw, (3) Fill, (4) Cry Hy-jinks, (5) Count just, (6) Chuse your doublet Man, viz. when two equal Numbers of the Dice is thrown, the Person whom you chuse must pay a Double of the common Forfeiture, and so must you when the Dice is in hand. A rare Project this, and no Bubble I can assure you; for a covetous Fellow may save Money, and get himself as drunk as he can desire in less than an Hour’s Time. 29. Pike ye’r Bain ] Is a Cant Phrase, when one leaves a little in the Cup, he is advised to pike his Bone, i. e. Drink it clean out.

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Poems Whan we were weary’d at the Gowff, Then Maggy Johnston’s was our Howff; Now a’ our Gamesters may sit dowff, Wi’ Hearts like Lead, 40 Death wi’ his Rung rax’d her a Yowff,14 And sae she died. Maun we be forc’d thy Skill to tine? For which we will right fair repine; Or hast thou left to Bairns of thine 45 The pauky Knack Of brewing Ale amaist like Wine? That gar’d us crack. Sae brawly did a Pease-scon Toast Biz i’ the Queff, and flie the Frost;15 50 There we gat fou wi’ little Cost, And muckle Speed, Now wae worth Death, our Sport’s a’ lost, Since Maggy’s dead. Ae Simmer Night I was sae fou,16 55 Amang the Riggs I geed to spew; Syne down on a green Bawk, I trow I took a Nap. And soucht a’ Night Balillilow, As sound’s a Tap. 60 And whan the Dawn begoud to glow, I hirsl’d up my dizzy Pow, Frae ’mang the Corn like Wirricow, Wi’ Bains sae fair, And ken’d nae mair than if a Ew 65 How I came there. Some said it was the Pith of Broom That she stow’d in her Masking-loom, Which in our Heads rais’d sic a Foom, Or some wild Seed, 70 Which aft the Chaping Stoup did toom, But fill’d our Head. 41. Rax’d her a Youff ] Reach’d her a Blow. 50. Flie the Frost ] Or fright the Frost or Coldness out of it. 55. Ae Simmer Night, &c. ] The two following Stanzas are a true Narrative. On that slid Place where I ’maist brake my Bains, To be a Warning I set up twa Stains, That nane may venture there as I have done, Unless wi’ frosted Nails he clink his Shoon.

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Elegy on Maggy Johnston But now since ’tis sae that we must Not in the best Ale put our Trust, But whan we’re auld return to Dust, 75 Without Remead, Why shou’d we tak it in Disgust That Maggy’s dead. Of wardly Comforts she was rife, And liv’d a lang and hearty Life, 80 Right free of Care, or Toil, or Strife, Till she was stale, And ken’d to be a kanny Wife At brewing Ale. Then farewell Maggy douce and fell, 85 Of Brewers a’ thou boor the Bell; Let a’ thy Gossies yelp and yell, And without Feed, Guess whether ye’re in Heaven or Hell, They’re sure ye’re dead. 90

e p i t a p h. O Rare Maggy Johnston.

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ELEGY on JOHN COWPER Kirk-Treasurer’s Man, ANNO 1714.17 I Wairn ye a’ to greet and drone, John Cowper’s dead, Ohon! Ohon! To fill his Post, alake there’s none, That with sic Speed Cou’d sa’r Sculdudry out like John,18 5 But now he’s dead. He was right nacky in his Way, And eyedent baith be Night and Day, He wi’ the Lads his Part cou’d play, When right sair fleed, 10 He gart them good Bill-siller pay,19 But now he’s dead. Of Whore-hunting he gat his Fill, And made be’t mony Pint and Gill: Of his braw Post he thought nae Ill, 15 Nor did nae need, Now they may mak a Kirk and Mill O’t, since he’s dead. Altho he was nae Man of Weir, ’Tis necessary for the Illustration of this Elegy to Strangers to let them a little into the History of the Kirk-Treasurer and his Man; The Treasurer is chosen every Year, a Citizen respected for Riches and Honesty; he is vested with an absolute Power to seise and imprison the Girls that are too impatient to have on their green Gown before it be hem’d; them he strictly examines, but no Liberty to be granted till a fair Account be given of these Persons they have obliged. It must be so; A List is frequently given sometimes of a Dozen or thereby of married or unmarried unfair Traders whom they secretly assisted in running their Goods, these his Lordship makes pay to some purpose according to their Ability, for the Use of the Poor: If the Lads be obstreperous, the Kirk-Sessions, and worst of all, the Stool of Repentance is threatned, a Punishment which few of any Spirit can bear. The Treasurer being changed every Year, never comes to be perfectly acquainted with the Affair; but their general Servant continuing for a long Time, is more expert at discovering such Persons, and the Places of their Resort, which makes him capable to do himself and Customers both a good or an ill Turn. John Cowper maintain’d this Post with Activity and good Success for several Years. 5. Sa’r Sculdudry ] In Allusion to a scent Dog, Sa’r from Savour or Smell, Sculdudry a Name commonly given to whoring. 11. Bill-siller ] Bull-silver. She saw the Cow well serv’d, and took a Groat. Gay.

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Elegy on John Cowper Yet mony a ane, wi quaking Fear, 20 Durst scarce afore his Face appear, But hide their Head; The wylie Carle he gather’d Gear, And yet he’s dead. Ay now to some Part far awa, 25 Alas he’s gane and left it a’! May be to some sad Whilliwhaw O’ fremit Blood,20 ’Tis an ill Wind that dis na blaw Some Body good. 30 Fy upon Death, he was to blame To whirle poor John to his lang Hame: But tho his Arse be cauld, yet Fame, Wi’ Tout of Trumpet, Shall tell how Cowper’s awfou Name 35 Cou’d flie a Strumpet. He kend the Bawds and Louns fou well, And where they us’d to rant and reel, He paukily on them cou’d steal, And spoil their Sport; 40 Aft did they wish the muckle De’ll Might tak him for’t. But ne’er a ane of them he spar’d, E’en tho there was a drunken Laird To draw his Sword, and make a Faird21 45 In their Defence, John quietly put them in the Guard To learn mair Sense. There maun they ly till sober grown, The Lad neist Day his Fault maun own; 50 And to keep a’ Things hush and low’n, He minds the Poor,22 Syne after a’ his Ready’s flown, He damns the Whore. And she, poor Jade, withoutten Din, Is sent to Leith-Wynd Fit to spin,23

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27. Whilliwha of fremit Blood ] Whilliwha is a kind of an insinuating deceitful Fellow, Fremit Blood, not a Kin, because he had then no legitimate Heirs of his own Body. 45. Make a Faird ] A Bustle like a Bully. 52. He minds the Poor ] Pays hush Money to the Treasurer. 56. Leith-Wynd Fit ] The House of Correction at the Foot of Leith-Wynd, such as Bridewell in London.

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Poems With heavy Heart and Cleathing thin, And hungry Wame, And ilky Month a well paid Skin, To make her tame. 60 But now they may scoure up and down, And safely gang their Wakes arown, Spreading the Clap throw a’ the Town, But Fear or Dread; For that great Kow to Bawd and Lown, 65 John Cowper’s dead. Shame saw ye’r Chandler Chasts, O Death,24 For stapping of John Cowper’s Breath; The Loss of him is publick Skaith; I dare well say, 70 To quat the Grip he was right laith This mony a Day. POSTSCRIPT. Of umquhile John to lie or bann, Shaws but ill Will, and looks right shan, But some tell odd Tales of the Man, 75 For Fifty Head Can gi’e their Aith they’ve seen him gawn25 Since he was dead. Keek but up throw the Stinking Stile,26 On Sunday Morning a wee While, 80 At the Kirk Door out frae an Isle, It will appear; But tak a good Tent ye dinna file Ye’r Breeks for Fear. For well we wat it is his Ghaist, 85 Wow, wad some Fouk that can do’t best27 Speak till’t, and hear what is confest; ’Tis a good Deed To send a wand’ring Saul to rest Amang the Dead. 90 67. Chandler Chasts ] Lean or meagre Cheeked, when the Bones appear like the Sides or Corners of a Candlestick, which in Scots we call a Chandler. 77. Seen him gawn ] The common People when they tell their Tales of Ghosts appearing, they say, he has been seen gawn or stalking. 79. Stinking stile ] Opposite to this Place is the Door of the Church which he attends, being a Beadle. 86. Wow, wad some Fouk that can do’t best ] ’Tis another vulgar Notion, that a Ghost will not be laid to rest till some Priest speaks to it, and get Account what disturbs it.

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Elegy on Lucky Wood

ELEGY

on Lucky WOOD in the Canongate, May 1717.28 O Cannigate! poor elritch Hole, What Loss, what Crosses does thou thole! London and Death gars thee look drole,29 And hing thy Head; Wow, but thou has e’en a cauld Coal 5 To blaw indeed. Hear me ye Hills, and every Glen, Ilk Craig, ilk Cleugh, and hollow Den, And Echo shrill, that a’ may ken The waefou Thud, 10 Be rackless Death, wha came unsenn30 To Lucky Wood. She’s dead o’er true, she’s dead and gane, Left us and Willie Burd alane;31 To bleer and greet, to sob and mane, 15 And rug our Hair, Because we’ll ne’r see her again For evermair. She gae’d as fait as a new Prin, And kept her Housie snod and been; 20 Her Peuther glanc’d upo’ your Een Like Siller Plate; She was a donsie Wife and clean, Without Debate. It did ane good to see her Stools, Her Boord, Fire-side, and facing Tools;32 Rax, Chandlers, Tangs, and Fire-Schools, Basket wi’ Bread.

25

Lucky Wood kept an Ale-house in the Canongate, was much respected for Hospitality, Honesty, and the Neatness both of her Person and House. 3. London and Death ] The Place of her Residence being the greatest Sufferer, by the Loss of our Members of Parliament, which London now enjoys, many of them having their Houses there, being the Suburb of Edinburgh nearest the King’s Palace; this with the Death of Lucky Wood are sufficient to make the Place ruinous. 11. Came unsenn ] or unsent for; There’s nothing extraordinary in this, it being his common Custom, except in some few Instances of late since the falling of the Bubbles. 14. Willie ] Her Husband William Wood. 26. Facing Tools ] Stoups [or Pots] and Cups, so call’d from the Facers. See l.29.

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Poems Poor Facers now may chew Pea-hools,33 Since Lucky’s dead. 30 She ne’er gae in Lawin fause,34 Not Stoups a Froath aboon the Hause, Nor kept dow’d Tip within her Waw’s, But reaming Swats; She never ran sour Jute, because 35 It gee’s the Batts. She had the Gate sae well to please, With gratis Beef, dry Fish, or Cheese; Which kept our Purses ay at Ease, And Health in Tift, 40 And lent her fresh Nine Gallon Trees A hearty Lift. She ga’e us aft hail Legs o’ Lamb, And did nae hain her Mutton Ham; Than ay at Yule, when e’er we came, 45 A bra’ Goose Pye, And was na that good Belly Baum? Nane dare deny. The Writer Lads fow well may mind her, Furthy was she, her Luck design’d her 50 Their common Mither, sure nane kinder Ever brake Bread; She has na left her Make behind her, But now she’s dead. To the sma’ Hours we aft sat still, 55 Nick’d round our Toasts and Snishing Mill; Good Cakes we wanted ne’r at Will, The best of Bread, Which aften cost us mony a Gill To Aikenhead.35 60 Cou’d our saut Tears like Clyde down rin,

29. Poor Facers ] The Facers were a Club of fair Drinkers who inclined rather to spend a Shilling on Ale than Twopence for Meat; they had their Name from a Rule they observed of obliging themselves to throw all they left in the Cup in their own Faces: Wherefore to save their Face and Cloaths, they prudently suck’d the Liquor clean out. 31. She ne’er gae in, &c. ] All this Verse is a fine Picture of an honest Ale-seller; A Rarity. 60. To Aikenhead’s ] The Nether-bow Porter, to whom Lucky’s Customers were often obliged for opening the Port for them, when they staid out ’till the small Hours after Midnight.

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Elegy on Lucky Wood And had we Cheeks like Corra’s Lin,36 That a’ the Warld might hear the Din Rair frae ilk Head; She was the Wale of a’ her Kin, 65 But now she’s dead. O Lucky Wood, ’tis hard to bear The Loss; but Oh! we maun forbear: Yet sall thy Memory be dear While blooms a Tree, 70 And after Ages Bairns will spear ’Bout Thee and Me. e p i t a p h. Beneath this Sod Lies Lucky Wood, Whom a’ Men might put Faith in; Wha was na sweer, While she winn’d here, To cramm our Wames for naithing.

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Lucky Spence’s last Advice.37 Three Times the Carline grain’d and rifted, Then frae the Cod her Pow she lifted, In bawdy Policy well gifted, When she now faun, That Death na langer wad be shifted. 5 She thus began. My loving Lasses, I maun leave ye, But dinna wi’ ye’r Greeting grieve me, Nor wi’ your Draunts and Droning deave me, But bring’s a Gill; 10 For Faith, my Bairns, ye may believe me, ’Tis ’gainst my Will. O black Ey’d Bess and mim Mou’d Meg,38 O’er good to work or yet to beg; 62. Like Corra’s Lin ] A very high Precipice nigh Lanerk, over which the River of Clyde falls making a great Noise, which is heard some Miles off. Lucky Spence, a famous Bawd who flourished for several Years about the Beginning of the Eighteenth Century; she had her Lodgings near Holyrood-house; she made many a benefit Night to herself, by putting a Trade in the Hands of young Lasses that had a little Pertness, strong Passions, Abundance of Laziness, and no Fore-thought. 13. Mim Mou’d ] Expresses an affected Modesty, by a preciseness about the Mouth.

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Poems Lay Sunkots up for a sair Leg, 15 For whan ye fail, Ye’r Face will not be worth a Feg, Nor yet ye’r Tail. Whan e’er ye meet a Fool that’s fow, That ye’re a Maiden gar him trow, 20 Seem nice, but stick to him like Glew, And whan set down, Drive at the Jango till he spew, Syn he’ll sleep soun. Whan he’s asleep, then dive and catch 25 His ready Cash, his Rings or Watch; And gin he likes to light his Match39 At your Spunk-box, Ne’er stand to let the fumbling Wretch E’en take the Pox. 30 Cleek a’ ye can be Hook or Crook, Ryp ilky Poutch frae Nook to Nook; Be sure to truff his Pocket-book, Saxty Pounds Scots Is nae deaf Nits: In little Bouk 3540 Lie great Bank-Notes. To get a Mends of whinging Fools,41 That’s frighted for Repenting-Stools, Wha often, whan their Metal cools, Turn sweer to pay, 40 Gar the Kirk-Boxie hale the Dools42 Anither Day. But dawt Red Coats, and let them scoup, Free for the Fou of cutty Stoup;43 To gee them up, ye need na hope 45 E’er to do well: 27. Light his Match, &c. ] I could give a large Annotation on this Sentence, but do not incline to explain every thing, lest I disoblige future Criticks, by leaving nothing for them to do. 35. Is nae deaf Nits ] or empty Nuts; This is a negative manner of saying a thing is substantial. 37. To get a Mends ] To be revenged; of whindging Fools, Fellows who wear the wrong side of their Faces outmost, Pretenders to Sanctity, who love to be smugling in a Corner. 40. Gar the Kirk-Boxie hale the Dools ] Delate them to the Kirk-Treasurer. Hale the Dools is a Phrase used at Foot-ball, where the Party that gains the Goal or Dool is said to hail it or win the Game, and so draws the Stake. 44. Cutty Stoup ] Little Pot, i.e. a Gill of Brandy.

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Lucky Spence's last Advice They’ll rive ye’r Brats and kick your Doup, And play the Deel. There’s ae sair Cross attends the Craft, That curst Correction-house, where aft 50 Vild Hangy’s Taz ye’r Riggings saft44 Makes black and blae, Enough to pit a Body daft; But what’ll ye say.45 Nane gathers Gear withoutten Care, 55 Ilk Pleasure has of Pain a Skare; Suppose then they should tirle ye bare, And gar ye fike, E’en learn to thole; ’tis very fair Ye’re Nibour like. 60 Forby, my Looves, count upo’ Losses, Ye’r Milk-white Teeth and Cheeks like Roses, Whan Jet-black Hair and Brigs of Noses, Faw down wi’ Dads; To keep your Hearts up ’neath sic Crosses, 65 Set up for Bawds. Wi’ well crish’d Loofs I hae been canty, When e’er the Lads wad fain ha’e faun t’ ye; To try the auld Game Taunty Raunty, Like Coosers keen, 70 They took Advice of me your Aunty, If ye were clean. Then up I took my Siller Ca’ And whistl’d benn whiles ane, whiles twa;46 Roun’d in his Lug, That there was a47 75 75 Poor Country Kate, As halesome as the Well of Spaw, But unka blate. Sae whan e’er Company came in, And were upo’ a merry Pin, 80 I slade away wi’ little Din, And muckle Mense, 51. Hangy’s Taz ] If they perform not the Task assign’d them, they are whipt by the Hangman. 54. But what’ll ye say ] The Emphasis of this Phrase, like many others, cannot be understood but by a Native. 74. And whistled ben ] But and Ben signify the different Ends or Rooms of a House; to gang But and Ben is to go from one End of the House to the other. 75. Roun’d in his Lug ] Whisper’d in his Ear.

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Poems Lest Conscience Judge, it was a’ ane48 To Lucky Spence. My Bennison come on good Doers, 85 Who spend their Cash on Bawds and Whores; May they ne’er want the Wale of Cures For a sair Snout: Foul fa’ the Quacks wha that Fire smoors,49 And puts nae out. 90 My Malison light ilka Day On them that drink, and dinna pay, But tak a Snack and rin away; May’t be their Hap Never to want a Gonorrhœa, 95 Or rotten Clap. Lass gi’e us in anither Gill, A Mutchken, Jo, let’s tak our Fill; Let Death syne registrate his Bill Whan I want Sense, 100 I’ll slip away with better Will, Quo’ Lucky Spence.

T A R T A N A, or the

P L A I D. Ye Caledonian Beauties, who have long Been both the Muse, and Subject of my Song, Assist your Bard, who in harmonious Lays Designs the Glory of your Plaid to raise: How my fond Breast with blazing Ardour glows, When e’er my Song on you just Praise bestows.

5

Phœbus, and his imaginary Nine With me have lost the Title of Divine; To no such Shadows will I Homage pay, These to my real Muses shall give Way: 10 My muses, who on smooth meand’ring Tweed, 83. Let Conscience Judge ] It was her usual Way of vindicating herself to tell ye, When Company came to her House, could she be so uncivil as to turn them out? If they did any bad thing, said she, between GOD and their Conscience be’t. 88. Fire smoors ] Such Quacks as bind up the external Symptoms of the Pox, and drive it inward to the strong Holds, whence it is not so easily expelled.

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Tartana, or the Plaid Stray through the Groves, or grace the Clover Mead; Or these who bathe themselves where haughty Clyde Does roaring o’er his lofty Cat’racts ride; Or you who on the Banks of gentle Tay 15 Drain from the Flowers the early Dews of May, To varnish on your Cheek the Crimson Dy, Or make the White the falling Snow outvy: And you who on Edina’s Streets display Millions of matchless Beauties every Day; 20 Inspir’d by you, what Poet can desire To warm his Genius at a brighter Fire? I sing the Plaid, and sing with all my Skill, Mount then O Fancy, Standard to my Will; Be strong each Thought, run soft each happy Line, That Gracefulness and Harmony may shine, Adapted to the beautiful Design. Great is the Subject, vast th’ exalted Theme, And shall stand fair in endless Rolls of Fame.

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25

The Plaid’s Antiquity comes first in View, Precedence to Antiquity is due: Antiquity contains a certain Spell, To make ev’n Things of little Worth excell; To smallest Subjects gives a glaring Dash, Protecting high born Idiots from the Lash: Much more ’tis valu’d, when with Merit plac’d, It graces Merit, and by Merit’s grac’d.

30

35

O first of Garbs! Garment of happy Fate! So long employ’d of such an antique Date; Look back some Thousand Years, till Records fail, 40 And lose themselves in some Romantick Tale, We’ll find our Godlike Fathers nobly scorn’d, To be with any other Dress adorn’d; Before base foreign Fashions interwove, Which ’gainst their Int’rest and their Brav’ry strove. 45 ’Twas they could boast their Freedom with proud Rome, And arm’d in Steel despise the Senate’s Doom; Whilst o’er the Globe their Eagle they display’d, And conquer’d Nations prostrate Homage paid, They only, they unconquer’d stood their Ground, 50 And to the mighty Empire fixt the Bound. Our native Prince who then supply’d the Throne, In Plaid array’d magnificently shone: Nor seem’d his Purple, or his Ermine less, Tho cover’d by the Caledonian Dress. 55 In this at Court the Thanes were gayly clad, With this the Shepherds and the Hinds were glad, In this the Warrior wrapt his brawny Arms, 69

Poems With this our beauteous Mothers vail’d their Charms; When ev’ry Youth, and every lovely Maid Deem’d it a Deshabille to want their Plaid.

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O Heav’ns! How chang’d? How little look their Race? When foreign Chains with foreign Modes take Place; When East and Western-Indies must combine To deck the Fop, and make the Gewgaw shine. Thus while the Grecian Troops in Persia lay, And learn’d the Habit to be soft and gay, By Luxury enerv’d, they lost the Day.

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} I ask’d Varell, what Soldiers he thought best? And thus he answer’d to my plain Request; “Were I to lead Battalions out to War, “And hop’d to triumph in the Victor’s Car, “To gain the loud Applause of worthy Fame, “And Columns rais’d to eternize my Name, “I’d choose, had I my Choice, that hardy Race “Who fearless can look Terrors in the Face; “Who midst the Snows the best of Limbs can fold “In Tartan Plaids, and smile at chilling Cold: “No useless Trash should pain my Soldier’s Back, “Nor Canvas Tents make loaden Axles crack; “No rattling Silks I’d to my Standards bind, “But bright Tartana’s waving in the Wind: “The Plaid alone should all my Ensigns be, “This army from such Banners would not flie. “These, these were they, who naked taught the Way “To fight with Art, and boldly gain the Day. Ev’n great Gustavus stood himself amaz’d, While at their wond’rous Skill and Force he gaz’d. With such brave Troops one might o’er Europe run, Make out what Richlieu fram’d, and Lewis had begun.

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Degenerate men! Now Ladies please to sit,

That I the Plaid in all its Airs may hit, } With all the Powers of Softness mixt with Wit. While scorching Titan tawns the Shepherd’s Brow, And whistling Hinds sweat lagging at the Plow: The piercing Beams Brucina can defy, Not Sun-burnt she’s, nor dazl’d is her Eye. Ugly’s the Mask, the Fan’s a trifling Toy To still at Church some Girl or restless Boy. Fixt to one Spot’s the Pine and Myrtle Shades, But on each Motion wait th’ Umbrellian Plaids, Repelling Dust when Winds disturb the Air, And give a Check to every ill bred Stare. 70

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Tartana, or the Plaid Light as the Pinions of the airy Fry, Of Larks and Linnets who traverse the Sky, Is the Tartana spun so very fine, Its Weight can never make the Fair repine, By raising Ferments in her glowing Blood, Which cannot be escap’d within the Hood: Nor does it move beyond its proper Sphere, But let’s the Gown in all its Shapes appear; Nor is the Straightness of her Waist deny’d To be by every ravisht Eye survey’d. For this the Hoop may stand at largest Bend, It comes not nigh, nor can its Weight offend. The Hood and Mantle make the tender faint; I’m pain’d to see them moving like a Tent. By Heather Jenny in her Blanket drest, The Hood and Mantle fully are exprest; Which round her Neck with Rags is firmly bound, While Heather Besoms loud she screams around. Was Goody Strode so great a Pattern, say? Are ye to follow when such lead the Way? But know each Fair who shall this Sur-tout use, You’re no more Scots, and cease to be my Muse.

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The smoothest Labours of the Persian Loom Lin’d in the Plaid, set off the Beauty’s Bloom; Faint is the Gloss, nor come the Colours nigh, Tho white as Milk, or dipt in Scarlet Dy. The Lily pluckt by fair Pringella grieves, 130 Whose whiter Hand outshines its snowy Leaves: No wonder then white silks in our Esteem, Match’d with her fairer Face, they sully’d seem. If shining Red Campbella’s Cheeks adorn, Our Fancies straight conceive the blushing Morn; Beneath whose Dawn the Sun of Beauty lies, Nor need we Light but from Campbella’s Eyes. If lin’d with Green Stuarta’s Plaid we view, Or thine Ramseia edg’d around with Blue; One shews the Spring when Nature is most kind, The other Heav’n, whose Spangles lift the Mind.

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A Garden Plot enrich’d with chosen Flowers, In Sun Beams basking after vernal Showers, Where lovely Pinks in sweet Confusion rise, And Amaranths and Eglintines surprise; 145 Hedg’d round with fragrant Brier and Jessamine, The rosie Thorn and variegated Green; These give not half that Pleasure to the View, 71

Poems As when, Fergusia, Mortals gaze on you: You raise our Wonder, and our Love engage, Which makes us curse, and yet admire the Hedge; The Silk and Tartan Hedge, which does conspire With you to kindle Love’s soft spreading Fire. How many Charms can every fair one boast! How oft’s our Fancy in the Plenty lost! These more remote, these we admire the most. What’s too familiar often we despise, But Rarity makes still the Value rise.

} If Sol himself shou’d shine through all the Day, We cloy, and lose the Pleasure of his Ray: But if behind some marly Cloud he steal, Nor for sometime his radiant Head reveal, With brighter Charms his Absence he repays, And every Sun Beam seems a double Blaze. So when the Fair their dazling Lustres shroud, And disappoint us with a Tartan Cloud, How fondly do we peep with wishful Eye, Transported when one lovely Charm we spy? Oft to our Cost, ah me! we often find The Power of Love strikes deep, tho he be blind; Perch’d on a Lip, a Cheek, a Chin, or Smile, Hits with surprise, and throws young Hearts in Jail. From when the Cock proclaims the rising Day, And Milk-maids sing around sweet Curds and Whey; Till gray-ey’d Twilight, Harbinger of Night, Pursues o’er Silver Mountains sinking Light,50 I can unwearied from my Casements view The Plaid, with something still about it new. How are we pleas’d, when with a handsome Air We see Hepburna walk with easy Care? One Arm half circles round her slender Waist, The other like an Ivory Pillar plac’d, To hold her Plaid around her modest Face, Which saves her Blushes with the gayest Grace: If in white Kids her taper Fingers move, Or unconfin’d jet thro’ the sable Glove. With what a pretty action Keitha holds Her Plaid, and varies oft its airy Folds; How does the naked Space the Spirits move, Between the rufl’d Lawn and envious Glove? We by the Sample, tho no more be seen, Imagine all that’s fair within the Skreen. 176. Silver Mountains ] Ochel Hills.

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Tartana, or the Plaid Thus Belles in Plaids vail and display their Charms, The Love-sick Youth thus bright Humea warms, And with her graceful Meen her Rivals all alarms.

} The Plaid itself gives Pleasure to the Sight, To see how all its Setts imbibe the Light; Forming some Way, which even to me lies hid, White, Black, Blue, Yellow, Purple, Green, and Red. Let Newton’s Royal Club through Prisms stare, To view Celestial Dyes with curious Care, I’ll please my self, nor shall my Sight ask Aid Of Cristal Gimcracks to survey the Plaid. How decent is the Plaid, when in the Pew, It hides th’ inchanting Fair from Ogler’s View. The mind’s oft crowded with ill tim’d Desires, When Nymphs unvail’d approach the sacred Quires. Even Senators who guard the Common-weal, Their Minds may rove;— Are Mortals made of Steel? The finisht Beaux stand up in all their Airs, And search out Beauties more than mind their Prayers. The wainscot Forty Six’s are perplext To be eclips’d, Spite makes them drop the Text. The younger gaze at each fine Thing they see; The Orator himself is scarcely free. Ye then who wou’d your Piety express, To sacred Domes ne’er come in naked Dress. The Power of Modesty shall still prevail; Then Scotian Virgins use your native Vail. Thus far young Cosmel read; then star’d and curst, And askt me very gravely how I durst Advance such Praises for a Thing despis’d? He smiling, swore and I had been ill advis’d. To you, said I, perhaps this may seem true, And Numbers vast, nor Fools may side with you: As many shall my Sentiments approve; Tell me what’s not the Butt of Scorn and Love? Were Mankind all agreed to think one Way, What wou’d Divines and Poets have to say? No Ensigns wou’d on Martial Fields be spread, And Corpus Juris never wou’d be read: We’d need no Councils, Parliaments, nor Kings, Ev’n Wit and Learning wou’d turn silly Things. You miss my Meaning still, I’m much afraid, I would not have them always wear the Plaid. Old Salem’s Royal Sage, of Wits the Prime, Said, For each Thing there was a proper Time. 73

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Poems Night’s but Aurora’s Plaid, that ta’en away, We lose the Pleasure of returning Day; Ev’n through the Gloom, when view’d in sparkling Skies, 240 Orbs scarcely seen, yet gratify our Eyes: So through Hamilla’s op’ned Plaid, we may Behold her heavenly Face, and heaving milky Way. Spanish Reserve, joind with a Gallick Air, If manag’d well, becomes the Scotian Fair. 245 Now you say well, said he; but when’s the Time That they may drop the Plaid without a Crime? Then I, Lest, O fair Nymphs, ye should our Patience tire, And starch Reserve extinguish gen’rous Fire; Since Heaven your soft victorious Charms design’d To form a Smoothness on the rougher Mind: When from the bold and noble Toils of War, The rural Cares, or Labours of the Bar; From these hard Studies which are learn’d and grave, And some from dang’rous Riding o’er the Wave: The Caledonian manly Youth resort To their Edina, Love’s great Mart and Port, And crowd her Theatres with all that Grace Which is peculiar to the Scotian Race; At Consort, Ball, or some Fair’s Marriage-Day, O then with Freedom all that’s sweet display. When Beauty’s to be judg’d without a Vail, And not its Powers met out as by Retail, But Wholesale, all at once, to fill the Mind With Sentiments gay, soft, and frankly kind; Throw by the Plaid, and like the Lamp of Day, When there’s no Cloud to intercept his Ray. So shine Maxella, nor their Censure fear, Who, Slaves to Vapours, dare not so appear. On Ida’s Height, when to the Royal Swain, To know who should the Prize of Beauty gain, Jove sent his two fair Daughters and his Wife, That he might be the Judge to end the Strife: Hermes was Guide, they found him by a Tree, And thus they spake with Air divinely free, Say, Paris, which is fairest of us three. To Jove’s high Queen, and the Celestial Maids, E’re he wou’d pass his Sentence, cry’d, No Plaids. Quickly the Goddesses obey’d his Call, In simple Nature’s Dress he view’d them all, Then to Cyth’rea gave the Golden Ball.

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Great Criticks hail! our Dread, whose Love or Hate 74

Tartana, or the Plaid Can with a Frown, or Smile, give Verse its Fate; Attend, while o’er this Field my Fancy roams, I’ve somewhat more to say, and here it comes. When Virtue was a Crime, in Tancred’s Reign, There was a noble Youth who wou’d not deign To own for Sovereign one a Slave to Cice, Or blot his Conscience at the highest Price; For which his Death’s devis’d with hellish Art, To tear from his warm Breast his beating Heart. Fame told the tragick News to all the Fair, Whose num’rous Sighs and Groans bound through the Air: All mourn his Fate, Tears trickle from each Eye, Till his kind Sister threw the Woman by; She in his Stead a gen’rous Off’ring staid, And he, the Tyrant baulk’d, hid in her Plaid. So when Æneas with Achilles strove,51 The Goddess Mother hasted from above, Well seen in Fate, prompt by maternal Love, Wrapt him in Mist, and warded off the Blow That was design’d him by his valiant Foe.

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I of the Plaid could tell a hundred Tales, Then hear another, since that Strain prevails. The Tale no Records tell, it is so old, 305 It happned in the easy Age of Gold, When am’rous Jove Chief of th’ Olympian Gods, Pall’d with Saturnia, came to our Abodes, A Beauty-hunting; for in these soft Days, Nor Gods, nor Men delighted in a Chace 310 That would destroy, not propagate their Race. Beneath a Fir-Tree in Glentanar’s Groves,52 Where, e’er gay Fabricks rose, Swains sung their Loves, Iris lay sleeping in the open Air, A bright Tartana vail’d the lovely Fair; 315 The wounded God beheld her matchless Charms, With earnest Eyes, and grasp’d her in his Arms. Soon he made known to her, with gaining Skill, His Dignity, and Import of his Will. Speak thy Desire, the Divine Monarch said. 320 Make me a Goddess, cry’d the Scotian Maid, Nor let hard Fate bereave me of my Plaid. Be thou the Hand-maid to my mighty Queen, Said Jove, and to the World be often seen With the celestial Bow, and thus appear 325 Clad with these radiant Colours as thy Wear.

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298. Homer. 312. Glentanar’s Groves ] A large Wood in the North of Scotland.

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Poems Now say my Muse, e’re thou forsake the Field, What Profit does the Plaid to Scotia yield, Justly that claims our Love, Esteem and Boast, Which is produc’d within our native Coast. On our own Mountains grows the Golden Fleece, Richer than that which Jason brought to Greece: A beneficial branch of Albion’s Trade, And the first Parent of the Tartan Plaid. Our fair ingenious Ladies Hands prepare The equal Threeds, and give the Dyes with Care: Thousands of Artists sullen Hours decoy On rattling Looms, and view their Webs with Joy.

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May she be curst to starve in Frogland Fens, To wear a Fala ragg’d at both the Ends,53 340 Groan still beneath an antiquated Suit, And die a Maid at fifty five to boot; May she turn quaggy Fat, or crooked Dwarff, Be ridicul’d while primm’d up in her Scarff; May Spleen and Spite still keep her on the Fret, 345 And live till she outlive her Beauty’s Date; May all this fall, and more than I have said, Upon the Wench who disregards the Plaid. But with the Sun let ev’ry Joy arise, And from soft Slumbers lift her happy Eyes; May blooming Youth be fixt upon her Face, Till she has seen her fourth descending Race; Blest with a Mate with whom she can agree, And never want the finest of Bohea: May ne’er the Miser’s Fears make her afraid, Who joins with me, with me admires the Plaid. Let bright Tartana’s henceforth ever shine, And Caledonian Goddesses enshrine.

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Fair Judges to your Censure I submit, If you allow this Poem to have Wit, 360 I’ll look with Scorn upon these musty Fools, Who only move by old worm-eaten Rules. But with th’ ingenious if my Labours take, I wish them ten Times better for their Sake; Who shall esteem this vain are in the wrong, 365 I’ll prove the Moral is prodigious strong: I hate to trifle, Men should act like Men, And for their Country only draw their Sword and Pen.

340. Fala ] A little square Cloath wore by the Dutch Women.

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Scots Songs

SCOTS S O N G S. The happy Lover’s Reflections. The last Time I came o’er the Moor, I left my Love behind me; Ye Pow’rs! What pain do I endure, When soft Idea’s mind me: Soon as the ruddy Morn display’d 5 The beaming Day ensuing, I met betimes my lovely Maid, In fit Retreats for wooing. Beneath the cooling Shade we lay, Gazing and chastly sporting; 10 We kiss’d and promis’d Time away, ’Till Night spread her black Curtain. I pitied all beneath the Skies, Ev’n Kings, when she was nigh me; In Raptures I beheld her Eyes, 15 Which could but ill deny me. Shou’d I be call’d where Cannons rore, Where mortal Steel may wound me, Or cast upon some foreign Shore, Where Dangers may surround me; Yet hopes again to see my Love, To feast on glowing Kisses, Shall make my Cares at Distance move, In Prospect of such Blisses.

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In all my Soul there’s not one Place 25 To let a Rival enter; Since she excells in ev’ry Grace, In her my Love shall center. Sooner the Seas shall cease to flow, Their Waves the Alps shall cover, 30 On Greenland Ice shall Roses grow, Before I cease to love her. The next Time I go o’er the Moor She shall a Lover find me, And that my Faith is firm and pure, Tho I left her behind me: Then Hymen’s sacred Bonds shall chain My Heart to her fair Bosom, There, while my Being does remain, My Love more fresh shall blossom. 77

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Poems The Lass of Peattie’s Mill. The Lass of Peattie’s Mill, So bonny, blyth and gay, In spite of all my Skill, She stole my Heart away. When tedding of the Hay 5 Bare-headed on the Green, Love ’midst her Locks did play, And wanton’d in her Een. Her Arms white, round and smooth, Breasts rising in their Dawn, 10 To Age it wou’d give Youth, To press ’em with his Hand. Thro’ all my Spirits ran An Extasy of Bliss, When I such Sweetness fand 15 Wrapt in a balmy Kiss. Without the Help of Art, Like Flowers which grace the Wild, She did her Sweets impart, When e’er she spoke or smil’d. 20 Her Looks they were so mild, Free from affected Pride, She me to Love beguil’d; I wish’d her for my Bride. O had I all that Wealth 25 Hopeton’s high Mountains fill,54 Insur’d long Life and Health, And Pleasure at my Will; I’d promise and fulfill, That none but bonny She, 30 The Lass of Peattie’s Mill Shou’d share the same wi’ me.

D E L I A.

To the Tune of Green Sleeves. Ye watchful Guardians of the Fair, Who skiff on Wings of ambient Air, Of my dear Delia take a Care, And represent her Lover With all the Gayety of Youth, 5 26. Hopeton’s High Mountains ] Thirty three Miles South west of Edinburgh, where the Right Honourable the Earl of Hopeton’s Mines of Gold and Lead are.

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Scots Songs With Honour, Justice, Love and Truth, Till I return, her Passions sooth For me, in Whispers move her. Be careful, no base sordid Slave, With Soul sunk in a golden Grave, Who knows no Virtue but to save, With glaring Gold bewitch her. Tell her for me she was design’d, For me who know how to be kind, And have more Plenty in my Mind, Than one who’s ten Times richer.

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Let all the World turn upside down, And Fools run an eternal Round, In Quest of what can ne’er be found, To please their vain Ambition. 20 Let little Minds great Charms espy In Shadows which at Distance ly, Whose hop’d for Pleasure when come nigh, Prove nothing in Fruition. But cast into a Mold Divine, 25 Fair Delia does with Lustre shine, Her virtuous Soul’s an ample Mine, Which yeilds a constant Treasure Let Poets in sublimest Lays, Imploy their Skill her Fame to raise; 30 Let Sons of Musick pass whole Days, With well tun’d Reeds to please her. The Yellow-hair’d Laddie. In April when Primroses paint the sweet Plain, And Summer approaching rejoiceth the Swain, The Yellow-hair’d Laddie would oftentimes go To Wilds and deep Glens where the Hawthorn-trees grow. There under the Shade of an old sacred Thorn, With Freedom he sung his Loves, Ev’ning and Morn; He sang with so soft and inchanting a Sound, That Silvans and Fairies unseen danc’d around. The Shepherd thus sung, Tho young Maya be fair, Her Beauty is dash’d with a scornful proud Air; But Susie was handsome, and sweetly could sing, Her Breath like the Breezes perfum’d in the Spring. That Madie in all the gay Bloom of her Youth, 79

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Poems Like the Moon was unconstant, and never spoke Truth; But Susie was faithful, good humour’d and free, And fair as the Goddess who sprung from the Sea. That Mamma’s fine Daughter, with all her great Dowr, Was aukwardly airy, and frequently sowr: Then sighing, he wished, would Parents agree, The witty sweet Susie his Mistress might be.

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N A N N Y O. While some for Pleasure pawn their Health, ’Twixt Lais and the Bagnio,55 I’ll save my self, and without Stealth, Kiss and caress my Nanny—O. She bids more fair t’ ingage a Jove, 5 That Leda did or Danae—O; 56 Were I to paint the Queen of Love, None else shou’d fit but Nanny—O. How joyfully my Spirits rise, When dancing she moves finely—O, 10 I guess what Heav’n is by her Eyes, Which sparkle so divinely O. Attend my Vow, ye Gods, while I Breath in the blest Britannio, None’s Happiness I shall envy, 15 As long’s ye grant me Nanny—O. CHORUS. My bonny, bonny Nanny—O, My loving charming Nanny—O, I care not tho the World do know How dearly I love Nanny—O.

B O N N Y J E A N. Love’s Goddess in a Myrtle Grove Said, Cupid, bend thy Bow with Speed, Nor let the Shaft at Random rove, For Jeanie’s haughty Heart must bleed. The smiling Boy, with divine Art, 5 From Paphos shot an Arrow keen, Which flew unerring to the Heart, 2. Lais ] A famous Corinthian Courtizan. 6. Leda and Danae ] Two Beauties to whom Jove made Love; to one in the Figure of a Swan, to the other in a Golden Shower.

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Scots Songs And kill’d the Pride of bonny Jean. No more the Nymph with haughty Air Refuses Willie’s kind Address; 10 Her yielding Blushes shew no Care, But too much Fondness to suppress. No more the Youth is sullen now, But looks the gayest on the Green, Whilst every Day he spies some new 15 Surprising Charms in bonny Jean. A Thousand Transports crowd his Breast, He moves as light as fleeting Wind, His former Sorrows seem a Jest, Now when his Jeanie is turn’d kind: 20 Riches he looks on with Disdain, The glorious Fields of War look mean, The cheerful Hound and Horn give Pain, If absent from his bonny Jean. The Day he spends in am’rous Gaze, 25 Which even in Summer shorten’d seems: When sunk in Downs with glad Amaze, He wonders at her in his Dreams. All Charms disclos’d, she looks more bright Than Troy’s fair Prize, the Spartan Queen: 30 With breaking Day he lifts his Sight, And pants to be with bonny Jean.

The Kind Reception.

To the Tune of Auld lang syne. Should auld Acquaintance be forgot, Tho they return with Scars? These are the noble Heroe’s Lot, Obtain’d in glorious Wars: Welcome my Varo to my Breast, 5 Thy Arms about me twine, And make me once again as blest, As I was lang syne. Methinks around us on each Bough, A Thousand Cupids play, 10 Whilst thro’ the Groves I walk with you, Each Object makes me gay. Since your Return the Sun and Moon With brighter Beams do shine, Streams murmur soft Notes while they run, 15 As they did lang syne. 81

Poems

Despise the Court and Din of State, Let that to their Share fall; Who can esteem such Slav’ry great, While bounded like a Ball? But sunk in Love, upon my Arms Let your brave Head recline, We’ll please our selves with mutual Charms, As we did lang syne.

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O’er Moor and Dale with your gay Friend 25 You may pursue the Chace; And after a blyth Bottle end All Cares in my Embrace: And in a vacant rainy Day You shall be wholly mine; 30 We’ll make the Hours run smooth away, And laugh at lang syne. The Heroe pleas’d with the sweet Air, And Signs of gen’rous Love, Which had been utter’d by the Fair, 35 Bow’d to the Pow’rs above: Next Day with Consent and glad Haste Th’ approach’d the sacred Shrine, Where the good Priest the Couple blest, And put them out of Pine. 40

The PENITENT.

To the Tune of the Lass of Livingston. Pain’d with her slighting Jamie’s Love, Bell dropt a Tear, — Bell dropt a Tear, The Gods descended from above, Well pleas’d to hear, — Well pleas’d to hear. They heard the Praises of the Youth 5 From her own Tongue, — From her own Tongue, Who now converted was to Truth, And thus she sung, — And thus she sung, Blest Days when our ingen’ous Sex, More frank and kind, — More frank and kind, Did not their lov’d Adorers vex, But spoke their Mind, — But spoke their Mind. Repenting now she promis’d fair, Wou’d he return, — Wou’d he return, She ne’er again wou’d give him Care, Or Cause to mourn, — Or Cause to morn. 82

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Scots Songs Why lov’d I the deserving Swain, Yet still thought Shame, — Yet still thought Shame, When he my yielding Heart did gain, To own my Flame, — To own my Flame? Why took I Pleasure to torment, And seem too coy, — And seem too coy? Which makes me now, alas! lament My slighted Joy, — My slighted Joy. Ye Fair, while Beauty’s in its Spring, Own your Desire, — Own your Desire; While Love’s young Power with his soft Wing Fans up the Fire, — Fans up the Fire. O do not with a silly Pride; Or low Design, — Or low Design, Refuse to be a happy Bride, But answer plain, — But answer plain.

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Thus the fair Mourner wail’d her Crime, With flowing Eyes, — With flowing Eyes; Glad Jamie heard her all the Time, 35 With sweet Surprise, — With sweet Surprise, Some God had led him to the Grove, His Mind unchang’d, — His Mind unchang’d, Flew to her Arms, and cry’d, My Love, I am reveng’d, — I am reveng’d! 40



LOVE’s CURE.

To the Tune of Peggy I must love thee.

As from a Rock past all Relief, The Shipwreckt Colin spying His native Home, o’ercome with Grief, Half sunk in Waves and dying; With the next Morning Sun he spies A Ship, which gives unhop’d Surprise, New Life springs up, he lifts his Eyes With Joy, and waits her Motion.

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So when by her whom long I lov’d, I scorn’d was and deserted, 10 Low with Despair my Spirits mov’d, To be for ever parted: Thus droopt I, till diviner Grace I found in Peggy’s Mind and Face; Ingratitude appear’d then base, 15 But Virtue more engaging. Then now since happily I’ve hit, I’ll have no more delaying, 83

Poems Let Beauty yield to manly Wit, We lose our selves in staying; I’ll haste dull Courtship to a Close, Since Marriage can my Fears oppose, Why should he happy Minutes lose, Since Peggy I must love thee?

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Men may be foolish, if they please, 25 And deem’t a Lover’s Duty, To sign, and sacrifice their Ease, Doating on a proud Beauty: Such was my Case for many a Year, Still Hope succeeding to my Fear, 30 False Betty’s Charms now disappear, Since Peggy’s far outshine them.



O D E.

Hence every Thing that can Disturb the Quiet of Man; Be blyth my Soul, In a full Bowl Drown thy Care, 5 And repair The vital Stream: Since Life’s a Dream, Let Wine abound, And Healths go round, 10 We’ll sleep more sound; And let the dull unthinking Mob pursue Each endless Wish, and still their Toil renew. Bessy Bell and Mary Gray. O Bessy Bell and Mary Gray They are twa bonny Lasses, They bigg’d a Bower on yon Burn-brae, And theek’d it o’er wi’ Rashes. Fair Bessy Bell I loo’d yestreen, 5 And thought I ne’er cou’d alter; But Mary Gray’s twa pawky Een, They gar my Fancy falter. Now Bessy’s Hair’s like a Lint Tap, She smiles like a May Morning, 10 When Phœbus starts frae Thetis’ Lap, The Hills with Rays adorning: White is her Neck, saft is her Hand, 84

Scots Songs Her Waste and Feet’s fow genty, With ilka Grace she can command, 15 Her Lips, O wow! they’re dainty. And Mary’s Locks are like the Craw, Her Eye like Diamonds glances; She’s ay sae clean, red-up and braw, She kills when e’er she dances: 20 Blyth as a Kid, with Wit at Will, She blooming tight and tall is; And guides her Airs sae gracefou still, O Jove! she’s like thy Pallas. Dear Bessy Bell and Mary Gray, 25 Ye unco’ sair oppress us, Our Fancies jee between you twae, Ye are sic bonny Lasses: Wae’s me, for baith I canna get, To ane by Law we’re stented; 30 Then I’ll draw Cuts and take my Fate, And be with ane contented. The Young LAIRD and Edinburgh KATY. Now wat ye wha I met Yestreen Coming down the Street, my Jo, My Mistress in her Tartan Screen, Fou bonny, braw and sweet, my Jo. My Dear, quoth I, Thanks to the Night That never wisht a Lover ill; Since ye’re out of your Mither’s Sight, Let’s take a Wauk up to the Hill. O Katy wiltu gang wi’ me, And leave the dinsom Town a while, The Blossom’s sprouting frae the Tree, And a’ the Summer’s gawn to smile; The Mavis, Nightingale and Lark, The bleeting Lambs and whistling Hynd, In ilka Dale, Green, Shaw and Park, Will nourish Health and glad ye’r Mind. Soon as the clear Goodman of Day Does bend his Morning Draught of Dew, We’ll gae to some Burn-side and play, And gather Flowers to busk ye’r Brow. We’ll pou the Daizies on the Green, The lucken Gowans frae the Bog; Between Hands now and then we’ll lean, 85

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Poems And sport upo’ the Velvet Fog. There’s up into a pleasant Glen, 25 A wee Piece frae my Father’s Tower, A canny, saft and flowry Den, Which circling Birks has form’d a Bower: When e’er the Sun grows high and warm, We’ll to the cauller Shade remove, 30 There will I lock thee in mine Arm, And love and kiss, and kiss and love. KATY’s ANSWER. My Mither’s ay glowran o’er me, Tho she did the same before me, I canna get Leave To look to my Loove, Or else she’ll be like to devour me.

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Right fain wad I take ye’r Offer, Sweet Sir, but I’ll tine my Tocher, Then Sandy ye’ll fret, And wyt ye’r poor Kate, When e’er ye keek in your toom Coffer.

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For tho my Father has Plenty Of Siller and Plenishing dainty, Yet he’s unco sweer To twin wi’ his Gear; And sae we had need to be tenty.

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Tutor my Parents wi’ Caution, Be wylie in ilka Motion; Brag well o’ ye’r Land, And there’s my leal Hand, Win them, I’ll be at your Devotion.

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Edinburgh's Address to the Country

EDINBURGH’s Address to the

C O U N T R Y. November 1718.

From me Edina, to the Brave and Fair, Health, Joy and Love, and Banishment of Care: Forasmuch as bare Fields and gurly Skies Make rural Scenes ungrateful to the Eyes; When Hyperborean Blasts confound the Plain, Driving, by Turns, light Snow and heavy Rain; Ye Swains and Nymphs, forsake the withered Grove, That no damp Colds may nip the Buds of Love; Since Winds and Tempests o’er the Mountains ride, Haste here where Choice of Pleasures do reside; Come to my Tow’rs, and leave th’ unpleasant Scene, My cheerful Bosom shall your Warmth sustain, Screen’d in my Walls, you may bleak Winter shun, And, for a while, forget the distant Sun: My blazing Fires, bright Lamps, and sparkling Wine, As Summer Sun shall warm, like him shall shine. My witty Clubs of Mind that move at large, With every Glass can some great Thought discharge; When from my Senate, and the Toils of Law, T’unbend the Mind from Bus’ness you withdraw, With such gay Friends to laugh some Hours away, My Winter Even shall ding the Summer’s Day. My Schools of Law produce a manly Train Of fluent Orators, who Right maintain, Practis’d t’express themselves a graceful Way, An Eloquence shines forth in all they say. Some Raphael, Ruben, or Vandike admire, Whose Bosoms glow with such a Godlike Fire. Of my own Race I have, who shall ere long, Challenge a Place amongst the immortal Throng. Others in smoothest Numbers are profuse, And can in Mantuan Dactyl’s lead the Muse: And others can with Musick make you gay, With sweetest Sounds Correlli’s Art display, While they arround in softest Measures sing, Or beat melodious Solo’s from the String. What Pleasure can exceed to know what’s great, The Hinge of War, and winding Draughts of State? 87

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Poems These and a Thousand Things th’aspiring Youth May learn, with Pleasure, from the Sages Mouth; 40 While they full fraughted Judgements do unload, Relating to Affairs Home and Abroad. The generous Soul is fir’d with noble Flame, To emulate victorious Eugene’s Fame, Who with fresh Glories decks th’ Imperial Throne, 45 Making the haughty Ott’man Empire grone. He’ll learn when warlike Sweden and the Czar, The Danes and Prussians shall demit the War; T’observe what mighty Turns of Fate may spring From this new War rais’d by Iberia’s King. 50 Long ere the Morn from Eastern Seas arise, To sweep Night-shades from off the vaulted Skies, Oft Love or Law in Dream your Mind may toss, And push the sluggish Scenes to their Posts; The Hautboy’s distant Notes shall then oppose Your phantom Cares, and lull you to Repose. To Visit and take Tea, the well-dress’d Fair May pass the Crowd unruffled in her Chair; No Dust or Mire her shining Foot shall stain, Or on the horizontal Hoop give Pain. For Beaux and Belles no City can compare, Nor shew a Galaxy so made, so fair; The Ears are charm’d, and ravish’d are the Eyes, When at the Consort my fair Stars arise. What Poets of fictitious Beauties sing, Shall in bright Order fill the dazling Ring: From Venus, Pallas, and the Spouse of Jove, They’d gain the Prize, judg’d by the God of Love: Their Sun-burnt Features wou’d look dull, and fade, Compar’d with my sweet White and blushing Red. The Character of Beauties so Divine, The Muse for Want of Words cannot define. The panting Soul beholds with awful Love, Impress’d on Clay th’ Angelick Forms above, Whose softest Smiles can pow’rfully impart Raptures sublime, in dumb Show, to the Heart. The Strength of all these Charms, if ye defy, My Court of Justice shall make you comply. Welcome, my Session, thou my Bosom warms, Thrice three Times welcome to thy Mother’s Arms: Thy Father long, rude Man! has left my Bed, Thou’rt now my Guard, and Support of my Trade; My Heart yearns after thee with strong Desire, Thou dearest Image of thy ancient Sire: Should proud Augusta take thee from me too, 88

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Edinburgh's Address to the Country So great a Loss would make Edina bow; I’d sink beneath a Weight I cou’d not bear, And in a Heap of Rubbish disappear. Vain are such Fears; I’ll rear my Head in State, My bodding Heart foretells a glorious Fate: 90 New stately Structures on new Streets shall rise, And new-built Churches tow’ring to the Skies. From utmost Thule to the Dover Rock, Britain’s best Blood in Crowds to me shall flock; A num’rous Fleet shall be my Fortha’s Pride, 95 While they in her calm Roads at Anchor ride: These from each Coast shall bring what’s Great and Rare, To animate the Brave, and please the Fair.

Written beneath the Historical Print of the wonderful Preservation of Mr. David Bruce, and others his School-fellows, St. Andrews, August 19. 1710. Six Times the Day with Light and Hope arose, As oft the Night her Terrors did oppose, While toss’d on roring Waves the tender Crew Had nought but Death and Horror in their View: Pale Famine, Seas, bleak Cold at equal Strife, Conspiring all against their Bloom of Life: Whilst like the Lamp’s last Flame, their trembling Souls Are on the Wing to leave their mortal Goals; And Death before them stands with frightful Stare, Their Spirits spent, and sunk down to despair. Behold th’ indulgent providential Eye, With watchful Rays descending from on high; Angels come posting down the Divine Beam To save the Helpless in their last Extreme: Unseen the heav’nly Guard about them stock, Some rule the Winds, some lead them up with Rock, While other Two attend the dying Pair, To waft their young white Souls thro’ Fields of Air.

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Poems

CHRIST’s KIRK ON THE

G R E E N,

In Three CANTO’s. Κονσιδερ ίτ ύαριλι ρίδ άφτνήρ θάν ένις, ύίλ άτ έν βλίνκ σλί ωόετρι νότ τέν ίς. Г. Δυγλας. CANTO I..57 Was ne’er in Scotland heard or seen Sic Dancing and Deray; Nowther at Fakland on the Green,58 Nor Peebles at the Play,59 As was of Woers, as I ween, At Christ’s Kirk on a Day;60 There came our Kitties washen clean, In new Kirtles of Gray, Fou gay that Day.

5

To dance these Damesels them dight,61 Thir Lasses light of Laits,62 10 Their Gloves were of the Raffel right, Their Shoon were of the Straits, Their Kirtles were of Lincome light,63 Well prest with mony Plaits, They were so nice when Men them nicht, 15 They squeel’d like ony Gaits This Edition of the first Canto is taken from an old Manuscript Collection of Scots Poems written 150 years ago, where it is found that James, the first of that Name, King of Scots, was the Author; thought to be wrote while that brave and learned Prince was unfortunately kept Prisoner in England by Henry VI. about the Year 1412, Ballenden in his Translation of H. Boece’s History, gives the Character of him, He was weil lernit to fecht with the Swerd, to iust, to turnay, to worsyl, to syng and dance, was an expert Medicinar, richt crafty in playing baith of Lute and Harp, and sindry othir Instumentis of Musik. He was expert in Gramer, Oratry, and Poetry, and maid sae flowand and sententious Versis, apperit weil he was ane natural and borne Poete, lib. 16. cap. 16. 3. Fakland ] In the Shire of Fife, where our Kings for some Time had their Residence. 4. Peebles at the Play ] Peebles one of our Royal Burroughs where the Gentlemen of the Shire frequently meet for the Diversion of Horse-Races and the like. 6. Christ’s Kirk ] The Place where our Wedding held is either at Lesly (the Church there bearing that Name) or a Place so named a little distant from Windsor where our King was the Time of his Confinement. 9. Them dight ] Made themselves ready. 10. Light of Laits ] Light or wanton in their Manners. 13. Lincome Light ] Stuff made at Lincoln.

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Christ's Kirk on the Green Fou loud that Day. Of all these Maidens mild as Mead, Was nane sae jimp as Gilly, As ony Rose her Rude was red, Her Lire was like the Lilly: 20 Fou yellow, yellow was her Head, But she of Love was silly; Tho a’ her Kin had sworn her dead, She wald have but sweet Willy Alane that Day. She scorned Jack, and scraped at him, 25 And murgeon’d him with Mocks;64 He wad have loo’d, she wad na lat him, For a’ his yellow Locks. He cherisht her, she bade gae chat him,65 Counted him not twa Clocks;66 30 Sae shamefully his short Gown set him, His Legs were like twa Rocks,67 Or Rungs that Day. Tam Lutter was their Minstrel meet,68 Good Lord how he cou’d lance, He play’d sae shill, and sang sae sweet, While Tousie took a Trance; Auld Lightfoot there he did forleet,69 And counterfeited France: He us’d himself as Man discreet, And up the Morice Dance He took that Day. Then Steen came steppand in with Stends, Nae Rink might him arrest:70 Plaitfoot did bob with mony Bends, For Mause he made Request; He lap till he lay on his Lends,

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26. Murgeon’d him ] Ridicul’d him, by a ludicrous manner of aping his Gate or Actions. 29. Go chat him ] She bid him go hang himself. 30. Twa Clocks ] Reckoned him not worth a Couple of Beetles. 32. Twa Rocks ] Two Distaffs. This Description of Gilly’s Love to Willy, and her despising Jack, notwithstanding his Affection to her, is drawn with an admirable comick Delicacy. 33. Minstrel meet ] A Musician fit for them. 37. Auld Lightfoot there he did forleet, and counterfeited France ] He forgot to play the good old Scots Tunes like Auld Lightfoot and imitated the French, like our modern Minstrels, that dare play nought but Italiano’s, for fear they spoil their Fiddles. 42. Nae Rink might him arrest ] The swiftest Course could not stop him.

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Poems But risand was sae prest, While that he hostit at baith Ends, For honour of the Feast, And danc’d that Day. Syne Robin Roy began to revel, And Dawny to him rugged: 50 Let be, quoth Jack, and cau’d him Jevel, And by the Tail him tugged; The Kensie cleekit to a Cavel, But Lord as they twa lugged; They parted manly on a Navel: 55 Men say that Hair was rugged Between them twa. Ane bent a Bow, sic Sturt did steer him, Great Skaith was’t to have scar’d him; He chesit a Flane as did affear him,71 Th’ other said, Dirdum, Dardum:72 60 Throw baith the Cheeks he thought to sheer him, Or throw the Arse have char’d him; B’ ane Akerbraid it came na neer him, I canna tell what marr’d him Sae wide that Day. With that a Friend of his cry’d, Fy, And up an Arrow drew, He forged it sae furiously, The Bow in Flinders flew: Sae was the Will of God, trow I, For had the Tree been true, Men said, wha kend his Archery, That he had slain anew, Belyve that Day.

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A yap young Man that stood him neist, Loos’d aff a Shot with Ire, He etled the Bairn in at the Breast,73 75 The Bolt flew o’er the Bire:74 Ane cry’d, Fy, he has slain a Priest, A Mile beyond a Mire; Then Bow and Bag frae him he kiest, And fled as fierce as Fire 80 59. He chesit a Flane ] He chose an Arrow. 60. Dirdum, Dardum ] A slighting manner of speaking. When one makes a Boast of some Action which we think meanly of, we readily say, A Dirdum of that. 75. He etled the Bairn ] He design’d his Arrow at the Lad’s Breast. 76. The Bolt flew o’er the Bire ] He expresses his missing him, by a Metaphor of a Thunder-bolt flying over the Bire or Cow-house.

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Christ's Kirk on the Green Frae Flint that Day. Ane hasty Hensure, called Hary, Wha was ane Archer, hynd Fit up a Tackle withoutten tarry,75 That Torment fae him tynd.76 I watna whither’s Hand cou’d vary, Or the Man was his Friend; For he escap’d throw’ Mighty of Mary, As ane that nae ill mean’d, But Good that Day.

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Then Laurie like a Lion lap, And soon a Flane can fedder;77 90 He hecht to pierce him at the Pap, Thereon to wed a Wedder:78 He hit him on the Wame a Wap, It bufft like ony Blader; But saw his Fortune was and Hap, 95 His Doublet made of Leather Sav’d him that Day. The Buff sae boisterously abaist him, He to the Earth dusht down; The tither Man for dead there left him, And fled out of the Town. The Wives came furth, and up they rest him, And fand Life in the Lown; Then with three Routs on’s Arse they rais’d him, And cur’d him out of Sown, Frae Hand that Day. With Forks and Flails they lent great Slaps, And flang together like Frigs; With Bougers of Barns they best blew Caps,79 While they of Bairns made Brigs. The Rierd raise rudely with the Raps, When Rungs were laid on Riggs; The Wives came furth wi’ Crys and Claps, See where my Liking liggs80 Fou low this Day!

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They girned and let Gird with Grains, 83. Hynd fit up a Tackle, &c. ] Immediately made ready his shooting Tackle. 84. That Torment sae him tynd ] His Vexation made him angry. 90. A Flane can fedder ] Feathered an Arrow. 92. Wed a Wedder ] He wagered a Wedder he would pierce him at the Pap. 107. Bougers ] Rafters. 112. My Liking liggs ] My Sweet-heart lies on the Ground.

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Poems Ilk Gossip other griev’d: Some strake with Stings, some gather’d Stains, Some fled and ill mischiev’d. The Minstrel wan within twa Wains,81 That Day he wisely priev’d; For he came hame wi’ unbruis’d Bains, Where Fighters were mischiev’d Fou ill that Day.

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Heich Hutchon with a Hisil Rice, To red can throw them rummil; He maw’d them down like ony Mice, He was na Baity Bummil:82 Tho he was wight, he was na wise, 125 With sic Jangleurs to jummil; For frae his Thumb they dang a Slice, 83 While he cry’d, Barlafumil, I’m slain this Day. When that he saw his Blood sae red, To flee might nae Man let him; He ween’d it had been for auld Feed, He thought and bade have at him; He gart his Feet defend his Head, The far fairer it set him, While he was past out of all Plead, He soud been swift that gat him, Throw Speed that Day. The Town Souter in Grief was bowden,84 His Wife hang at his Waist, His Body was with Blood a browden,85 He grain’d like ony Ghaist; Her glittering Hair that was so gowden, So hard in Love him lac’d, That for her Sake he was not yowden,86 While he a Mile was chac’d, And mair that Day. The Miller was of manly Make, To meet him was nae Mows;

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117. Wan within two Wains ] Got between two Wains or Wagons, and hid himself. 124. Baity Bummil ] Or petty Fumbler; An actionless Fellow. 128. Barlafumil ] Cry’d, Barley, or, A Parleyfumil, I’m fallen. 137. In Grief was Bowden ] Was furnisht with Abundance of Grief. One who has enough of any Thing, we say, He is well bodin. 139) Blood a browden ] All besmear’d with Blood. But browden more commonly means forward or fond. 143 Not yowden ] Not tired.

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Christ's Kirk on the Green There durst nae tensome there him take, Sae noyted he their Pows: The Bushment heal about him brake, And bickered him wi’ Bows; 150 Syne traitorously behind his Back, They hew’d him on the Howes,87 Behind that Day. Twa that were Headsmen of the Herd, On ither ran like Rams, They follow’d, seeming right unfear’d, 155 Beat on with Barrow-Trams: But where their Gabs they were ungear’d, They gat upon the Gams; While bloody barkn’d was their Beards, As they had worried Lams, 160 Maist like that Day. The Wives keist up a hideous Yell, When all these Yonkiers yoked; As fierce as Flags of Fire-flaughts fell, Frieks to the Fields they flocked:88 The Carles with Clubs did others quell 165 On Breasts, while Blood out boaked;89 Sae rudly rang the common Bell, That a’ the Steeple rocked For Dread that Day. By this Tam Taylor was in’s Gear, When that he heard the Bell, He said he should make all a steer, When he came there himsel: He gaed to fight in sic a Fear, While to the Ground he fell; A Wife that hat him on the Ear, With a great Knocking-mell, Fell’d him that Day.

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When they had bierd like baited Bulls, And Brain-wood brynt in Bails;90 They were as meek as any Mules; 91 That mangit are with Mails; 180 For Faintness thae forfoughten Fools 152 They hew’d him on the Hows ] Threw him on his Back by striking him on his Hows, i.e. Houghs. 164. Frieks ] Young Fellows. 166. Out boaked ] Gush’d out. 178. And Brain-wood ] Being distracted, or Brain-sick. 180. Mangit are with Mails ] Wearied and gall’d with their Loading.

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Poems Fell down like flaughter’d Fails;92 Fresh Men came in, and hal’d the Dools,93 And dang them down in Dails,94 Bedeen that Day. When a’ was done, Dick with an Aix, 185 Came furth to fell a Fiddir,95 Quoth he, Where are yon hangit Smaiks, That wad have slain my Brither? His Wife bad him gae hame Gib Glaicks, And sae did Meg his Mither; 190 He turn’d and gave them baith their Paiks, For he durst ding nae ither, But them that Day.

CHRIST’s KIRK ON THE

G R E E N. CANTO II.96 But there had been mair Blood and Skaith, Sair Harship and great Spulie, And mony a ane had gotten his Death By this unsonsie Tooly: But that the bauld Good-wife of Braith 5 Arm’d wi’ a great Kail Gully, Came bellyflaught, and loot an Aith,97 She’d gar them a’ be hooly98 Fou fast that Day. 182. Flaughter’d Fails ] Turf that the Country People flea for covering their Houses. 183. Hal’d the Dools. See Lucky Spence, Line 41. 184. Down in the Dails, bedeen ] In Heaps a great Deal of them. Bedeen, Speedily. 186. Came furth to fell a Fidder ] Cut down a Fidder, or Load of Wood. The King having painted the rustic Squabble with an uncommon Spirit, in a most ludicrous Manner, in a Stanza of Verse the most difficult to keep the Sense complete, as he has done, without being forced to bring in Words for Crambo’s sake, where they return so frequently: Ambitious to imitate so great an Original, I put a Stop to the War; called a Congress, and made them sign a Peace, that the World might have their Picture in the more agreeable Hours of Drinking, Dancing and Singing. The following Canto’s were wrote, one in 1715, the other in 1718, about 300 Years after the first. Let no worthy Poet despair of Immortality; good sense will be always the same in spite of the Revolution of Words. 7. Came bellyflaught ] Came in great Haste, as it were flying full upon them with their Arms spread, as a Falcon with expanded Wings comes soussing upon her Prey. 8. Be hooly fou fast ] Desist immediately.

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Christ's Kirk on the Green Blyth to win aff sae wi’ hale Banes, Tho mony had clowr’d Pows;99 10 And dragl’d sae ’mang Muck and Stanes, They look’d like Wirry-kows: Quoth some, who ’maist had tint their Aynds, Let’s see how a’ Bowls rows: And quat this Brulziement at anes, 15 Yon Gully is ane Mows, Forsooth this Day. Quoth Hutchon, I am well content,100 I think we may do war; Till this Time Toumond I’se indent Our Claiths of Dirt will sa’r: Wi’ Nevels I’m amaist fawn faint, My Chafts are dung a char; Then took his Bonnet to the Bent, And daddit aff the Glar, Fou clean that Day.

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Tam Taylor, wha in Time of Battle101 25 Lay as gin some had fell’d him; Gat up now wi’ an unco’ Rattle, As nane there durst a quell’d him: Bauld Bess flew till him wi’ a Brattle, And spite of his Teeth held him 30 Closs by the Craig, and with her fatal Knife shored she would geld him, For Peace that Day. Syne a’ wi’ ae Consent shook Hands, As they stood in a Ring; Some red their Hair, some set their Bands, Some did their Sark Tails wring: Then for a Hap to shaw their Brands, They did there Minstrel bring, Where clever Houghs like Willi-wands, At ilka blythsome Spring. Lap high that Day.

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Claud Peky was na very blate, He stood nae lang a dreigh; For by the Wame he gripped Kate, 14. Let’s see how a’ Bowls rows ] A Bowling-green Phrase, commonly used when People would examine any Affair that’s a little ravel’d. 17. Quoth Hutchon ] Vide Canto I. Line 121. He’s brave, and the first Man for a honourable peace. 25. Tam Taylor ] Vide Canto I. Line 169. He’s a Coward, but would appear valiant when he finds the rest in Peace.

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Poems And gar’d her gi’e a Skreigh: Had aff, quoth she, ye filthy Slate, Ye stink o’ Leeks, O figh ! Let gae my Hands, I say, be quait; And wow gin she was skeigh, And mim that Day.

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Now settl’d Gossies sat, and keen Did for fresh Bickers birle; 102 50 While the young Swankies on the Green Took round a merry Tirle: Meg Wallet wi’ her pinky Een, Gart Lawrie’s Heart-strings dirle, And Fouk wad threep, that she did green 55 For what wad gar her skirle And skreigh some Day. The manly Miller, haff and haff,103 Came out to shaw good Will, Flang by his Mittens and his Staff, Cry’d, Gi’e me Paty’s-Mill ; 60 He lap Bawk-hight, and cry’d, Had aff,104 They rus’d him that had Skill; He wad do’t better, quoth a Cawf, Had he another Gill Of Usquebae. Furth started neist a pensy Blade, 65 And out a Maiden took, They said that he was Falkland bred,105 And danced by the Book; A souple Taylor to his Trade, And when their Hands he shook, 70 Ga’e them what he got frae his Dad, Videlicet the Yuke, To claw that Day. Whan a’ cry’d out he did sae weel, He Meg and Bess did call up; The Lasses bab’d about the Reel, 75 Gar’d a’ their Hurdies wallop, And swat like Pownies when they speel Up Braes, or when they gallop, 50. Did for fresh Bickers birle ] Contributed for fresh Bottles. 57. Haff and haff ] Half fuddled. 61. He lap Bawk-hight ] So high as his Head could strike the Loft, or Joining of the Couples. 67. Falkland bred ] Been a Journey-man to the King’s Taylor, and had seen Court-dancing.

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Christ's Kirk on the Green But a thrawn Knublock hit his Heel, And Wives had him to haul up, Haff fell’d that Day.

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But mony a pauky Look and Tale Gaed round whan Glowming hous’d them,106 The Ostler Wife brought ben good Ale, And bade the Lasses rouze them; Up wi’ them lads, and I’se be Bail They’ll loo ye an ye touze them: Quoth Gawssie, this will never fail Wi’ them that this Gate woes them, On sic a Day.

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Syne Stools and Furms were drawn aside, And up raise Willy Dadle, 90 A short Hought Man, but fou o’ Pride, He said the Fidler play’d ill; Let’s ha’e the Pipes, quoth he, beside; Quoth a’, That is nae said ill; He fits the Floor syne wi’ the Bride 95 To Cuttymun and Treeladle,107 Thick, thick that Day. In the mean Time in came the Laird, And by some Right did claim, To kiss and dance wi’ Masie Aird, A dink and dortie Dame: 100 But O poor Mause was aft her Guard, For back gate frae her Wame, Beckin she loot a fearfu’ Raird, That gart her think great Shame, And blush that Day. Auld Steen led out Maggie Forsyth, 105 He was her ain Good-brither; And ilka ane was unco’ blyth, To see auld Fouk sae clever. Quoth Jock, wi’ laughing like to rive, What think ye o’ my Mither? 110 Were my Dad dead, let me ne’er thrive But she wa’d get anither Goodman this Day. Tom Lutter had a muckle Dish, And betwisht ilka Tune, 82. Glowming hous’d them ] Twilight brought them into the House. 96. Cuttymun, &c. ] A Tune that goes very quick.

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Poems He laid his Lugs in’t like a Fish, And suckt till it was done; His Bags were liquor’d to his Wish, His Face was like a Moon: 108 But he cou’d get nae Place to pish In, but his ain twa Shoon, For Thrang that Day.

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The Latter-gae of haly Rhime,109 Sat up at the Boord-head, And a’ he said was thought a Crime To contradict indeed: For in Clark-Lear he was right prime, 125 And cou’d baith write and read, 110 And drank sae firm till ne’er a Styme He cou’d keek on a Bead, 111 Or Book that Day. When he was strute, twa sturdy Chiels, Be’s Oxter and be’s Coller, Held up frae cowping o’ the Creels112 The liquid Logick Scholar. When he came hame his Wife did reel, And rampage in her Choler, With that he brake the Spining-wheel, That cost a good Rix-dollar, And mair some say.

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Near Bed-time now ilk weary Wight Was gaunting for his Rest; For some were like to tyne their Sight, Wi’ Sleep and Drinking strest. 140 But ithers that were Stomach-tight, Cry’d out, It was nae best To leave a Supper that was dight, To Brownies, or a Ghaist,113 118. His Face was like a Moon ] Round, full and shining. When one is staring full of Drink, he’s said to have a Face like a full Moon. 121. The Latter-gae of holy Rhime ] The Reader or Church Precenter, who lets go, i.e. Gives out the Tune to be sung by the rest of the Congregation. 126. Baith write and read ] A Rarity in those Days. 128. Keek on a Bead ] Pray after the Roman Catholick Manner, which was the Religion then in Fashion. 131. Frae cowping of the Creels ] From turning topsy turvy. 144. To Brownies ] Many whimsical Stories are handed down to us by old Women of these Brownies: They tell us they were a Kind of good drudging Spirits, who appeared in Shape of rough Men, would have lyen familiarly by the Fire all Night, threshen in the Barn, brought a Midwife at a Time, and done many such kind Offices. But none of them has been seen in Scotland since the Reformation, as saith wise John Brown.

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Christ's Kirk on the Green To eat or Day. On whomelt Tubs lay twa lang Dails, 145 On them stood mony a Goan, Some fill’d wi’ Brachan, some wi’ Kail, And Milk het frae the Loan. Of Daintiths they had Routh and Wale, Of which they were right fon; 150 But nathing wad gae down but Ale Wi’ drunken Donald Don The Smith that Day. Twa Times aught Bannocks in a Heap, And twa good Junts of Beef, Wi’ hind and fore Spaul of a Sheep, 155 Drew Whistles frae ilk Sheath: Wi’ Gravie a their Beards did dreep, They kempit with their Teeth; A Kebbuck syn that ’maist cou’d creep Its lane pat on the Sheaf,114 160 In Stous that Day. The Bride was now laid in her Bed, Her left Leg Ho was flung;115 And Geordie Gib was fidgen glad, Because it hit Jean Gun: She was his Jo, and aft had said, 165 Fy, Geordie, had your Tongue, Ye’s ne’er get me to be your Bride: But chang’d her Mind when bung, That very Day. Tehee, quoth Touzie, when she saw116 The Cathel coming ben, 170 It pypin het gae’d round them a’, The Bride she made a Fen, To sit in Wylicoat sae braw, Upon her nether En; Her Lad like ony Cock did craw, 175 That meets a Clockin Hen,117 And blyth were they. 159. A Kebuck syne that ’maist cou’d creep its lane pat on the Sheaf ] A Cheese full of crawling Mites crown’d the Feast. 162. Her left Leg Ho was flung ] The Practice of throwing the Bridegroom or the Bride’s Stocking when they are going to Bed, is well known: The Person who it lights on is to be next married of the Company. 169. Tehee ] An Interjection of Laughter. 176. Clokin Hen ] A hatching Hen.

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Poems The Souter, Miller, Smith and Dick, Lawrie and Hutchon bauld, Carles that keep nae very strict Be Hours, tho they were auld; 180 Nor cou’d they e’er leave aff that Trick, But whare good Ale was sald, They drank a’ Night, e’en tho auld Nick Shou’d tempt their Wives to scald Them for’t neist Day. Was ne’er in Scotland heard or seen 185 Sic Banqueting and Drinkin, Sic Revelling and Battles keen, Sic Dancing, and sic Jinkin, And unko Wark that fell at E’en, When Lasses were haff winkin, 190 They lost their Feet and baith their Een, And Maidenheads gae’d linkin Aff a’ that Day.

CHRIST’s KIRK ON THE

G R E E N. CANTO III.118 Now frae East Nook of Fife the Daw’n119 Speel’d Westlines up the Lit, Carles wha heard the Cock had craw’n, Begoud to rax and rift: And greedy Wives wi’ girning Thrawn, 5 Cry’d, Lasses up to Thrift; Dogs barked, and the Lads frae Hand Bang’d to their Breeks like Drift, Be Break of Day. But some wha had been fow Yestreen, Curious to know how my Bridal Folks would look next Day after the Marriage, I attempted this third Canto, which opens with a Description of the Morning. Then the Friends come and present their Gifts to the new married Couple. A View is taken of one Girl (Kirsh) who had come fairly off, and of Mause who had stumbled with the Laird. Next a new Scene of Drinking if represented, and the young Good-man is creel’d. Then the Character of the Smith’s Ill-natured Shrew is drawn, which leads in the Description of riding the Stang. Next Magy Murdy has an exemplary Character of a good wise Wife. Deep drinking and bloodless Quarrels makes an end of an old Tale. 1. East Nook of Fife ] Where Day must break upon my Company; if, as I have observed, the Scene is at Lesly Church.

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Christ's Kirk on the Green Sic as the Latter-gae, 10 Air up had nae will to be seen, Grudgin their Groat to pay.120 But what aft fristed’s no forgeen, When Fouk has nought to say; Yet sweer were they to rake their Een,121 15 Sic dizzy Heads had they, And het that Day. Be that Time it was fair foor Days, 122 As fou’s the House cou’d pang, To see the young Fouk or they raise, Gossips came in ding dang, And wi’ a Soss aboon the Claiths,123 Ilk ane their Gifts down flang: Twall Toop Horn-spoons down Maggy lays, Baith muckle mow’d and lang, For Kale or Whey.

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Her Aunt a Pair of Tangs fush in, 25 Right bauld she spake and spruce, Gin your Goodman shall make a Din, And gabble like a Goose, Shorin whan fou to skelp ye’re Skin, Thir Tangs may be of Use; 30 Lay them enlang his Pow or Shin, Wha wins syn may make Roose, Between you twa. Auld Bessie in her red Coat braw, Came wi’ her ain Oe Nanny, An odd like Wife, they said that saw, 35 A moupin runckled Granny, She fley’d the Kimmers ane and a’, Word gae’d she was na kanny; 124 Nor wad they let Lucky awa, Till she was burnt wi’ Branny, 40 Like mony mae. Steen fresh and fastin ’mang the rest Came in to get his Morning, 12. Their Groat to pay ] Payment of the drunken Groat is very peremptorily demanded by the common People next Morning; but if they frankly confess the Debt due, they are passed for Two-pence. 15. Rake their Een ] Rub open their Eyes. 17. Fair foor Days ] Broad Day Light. 21. Aboon the Claiths ] They commonly throw their Gifts of Houshold Furniture above the Bed-cloaths where the young Folks are lying. 38. Word gae she was na kanny ] It was reported she was a Witch.

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Poems Speer’d gin the Bride had tane the Test,125 And how she loo’d her Corning? She laugh as she had fun a Nest, 45 Said, Let a be ye’r Scorning. Quoth Roger, Fegs I’ve done my best, To ge’er a Charge of Horning, 126 As well’s I may. Kind Kirsh was there, a kanty Lass, Black-ey’d, black-hair’d, and bonny; 50 Right well red up and jimp she was, And Wooers had fow mony: I wat na how it came to pass, She cutled in wi’ Jonnie, And tumbling wi’ him on the Grass, 55 Dung a’ her Cockernonny A jee that Day. But Mause begrutten was and bleer’d, Look’d thowless, dowf and sleepy; Auld Maggy kend the Wyt, and sneer’d, Caw’d her a poor daft Heepy: It’s a wise Wife that kens her Weird, What tho ye mount the Creepy;127 There a good Lesson may be lear’d, And what the war will ye be To stand a Day.

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Or Bairns can read, they first maun spell, 65 I learn’d this frae my Mammy, And coost a Legen-girth my sell,128 Lang or I married Tammie: I’se warrand ye have a’ heard tell, Of bonny Andrew Lammy, 70 Stifly in love wi’ me he fell, As soon as e’er he saw me: That was a Day. Hait Drink, frush butter’d Caiks and Cheese, That held their Hearts aboon, Wi’ Clashes mingled aft wi’ Lies, Drave aff the hale Forenoon: But after Dinner an ye please, To weary not o’re soon,

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43. Had tane the Test ] I do not mean an Oath of that Name we all have heard of. 48. Charge of Horning ] Is a Writ charging to make Payment, declaring the Debitor a Rebel. N.B. It may be left in the Lock-hole, if the Doors be shut. 62. Mount the Creepy ] The Stool of Repentance. 67. Coost a Legen-girth ] Like a Tub that loses one of its Bottom Hoops.

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Christ's Kirk on the Green We down to E’ning Edge wi’ Ease Shall loup, and see what’s done I’ the Doup o’ the Day.

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Now what the Friends wad fain been at, They that were right true blue; Was e’en to get their Wysons wat, And fill young Roger fou:129 But the bauld Billy took his Maut, 85 And was right stiff to bow; He fairly ga’e them Tit for Tat, And scour’d aff Healths anew, Clean out that Day. A Creel bout fow of muckle Stains130 They clinked on his Back, 90 To try the Pith o’s Rigg and Reins, They gart him cadge this Pack. Now as a Sign he had tane Pains, His young Wife was na slack, To rin and ease his Shoulder Bains, 95 And sneg’d the Raips fow snack, We’er Knife that Day. Syne the blyth Carles, Tooth and Nail, Fell keenly to the Wark; To ease the Gantrees of the Ale, And try wha was maist stark; 100 ’Till Boord and Floor, and a’ did sail, Wi’ spilt Ale i’ the Dark; Gart Jock’s Fit slide, he like a Fail, Play’d dad, and dang the Bark Aff’s Shins that Day. The Souter, Miller, Smith and Dick,131 105 Et cet’ra, closs sat cockin, Till wasted was baith Cash and Tick, Sae ill were they to slocken; Gane out to pish in Gutters thick, Some fell, and some gae’d rockin, 110 Sawny hang sneering on his Stick, To see bauld Hutchon bockin Rainbows that Day. 84. Fill young Roger fou ] ’Tis a Custom for the Friends to endeavour the next Day after the Wedding to make the new married Man as drunk as possible. 89. A Creel, &c. ] For Merryment, a Creel or Basket is bound, full of Stones, upon his Back; and if he has acted a manly Part, his young Wife with all imaginable Speed cuts the Cords, and relieves him from the Burthen. If she does not, he’s rallied for a Fumbler. 105. The Souter, &c. ] Vide Canto II. Line 177.

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Poems The Smith’s Wife her black Deary sought, And fand him Skin and Birn: 132 Quoth she, This Day’s Wark’s be dear bought, 115 He ban’d, and gae a Girn; Ca’d her a Jade, and said she mucht Gae hame and scum her Kirn; Whisht Ladren, for gin ye say ought Mair, I’se wind ye a Pirn133 120 To reel some Day. Ye’ll wind a Pirn! Ye silly Snool, Wae-worth ye’r drunken Saul, Quoth she, and lap out o’er a Stool, And claught him be the Spaul: He shook her, and sware muckle Dool 125 Ye’s thole for this, ye Scaul; I’se rive frae aff ye’r Hips the Hool, And learn ye to be baul On sic a Day. Your Tippanizing, scant o’ Grace, Quoth she, gars me gang duddy; Our Nibour Pate sin Break o’ Day’s Been thumpin at his Studdy, An it be true that some Fowk says, Ye’ll girn yet in a Woody; Syne wi’ her Nails she rave his Face, Made a’ his black Baird bloody, Wi’ Scarts that Day.

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A Gilpy that had seen the Faught, I wat he was nae lang, Till he had gather’d seven or aught Wild Hempies stout and strang; 140 They frae a Barn a Kaber raught, Ane mounted wi’ a Bang, Betwisht twa’s Shouders, and sat straught Upon’t, and rade the Stang134 On her that Day. 114. Skin and Birn ] The Marks of a Sheep; The Burn on the Nose, and the Tar on the Skin. i.e. She was sure it was him, with all the Marks of her drunken husband about him. 120. Wind ye a Pirn ] Is a threatning Expression, when one designs to contrive some malicious thing to vex you. 144. Rade the Stang on her ] The Riding of the Stang on a Woman that hath beat her Husband, is as I have described it, by one’s riding upon a Sting, or a long Piece of Wood, carried by two others on their Shoulders, where, like a Herauld, he proclaims the Woman’s Name, and the Manner of her unnatural Action.

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Christ's Kirk on the Green The Wives and Gytlings a’ span’d out O’er Middings, and o’er Dykes, Wi’ mony an unco Skirl and Shout, Like Bumbees frae their Bykes; Thro thick and thin they scour’d about, Plashin thro Dubs and Sykes, And sic a Reird ran thro the Rout, Gart a’ the hale Town Tykes Yamph loud that Day. But d’ye see fou better bred Was mens-fou Maggy Murdy, She her Man like a Lammy led Hame, wi’ a well wail’d Wordy: Fast frae the Company he fled, As he had tane the Sturdy;135 She fleech’d him fairly to his Bed, Wi’ ca’ing him her Burdy, Kindly that Day.

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But Lawrie he took out his Nap Upon a Mow of Pease, And Robin spew’d in’s ain Wife’s Lap; He said it ga’e him Ease. Hutchon wi’ a three lugged Cap, 165 His Head bizzin wi’ Bees, Hit Geordy a mislushios Rap, And brake the Brig o’s Neese Right sair that Day. Syne ilka Thing gae’d Arse o’er Head, Chanlers, Boord, Stools and Stowps, 170 Flew thro’ the House wi’ muckle speed, And there was little Hopes, But there had been some ill done Deed, They gat sic thrawart Cowps; But a’ the Skaith that chanc’d indeed, 175 Was only on their Dowps, Wi’ Faws that Day. Sae whiles they toolied, whiles they drank, Till a’ their Sense was smor’d; And in their Maws there was nae Mank, Upon the Furms some snor’d: Ithers frae aff the Bunkers sank, Wi’ Een like Collops scor’d: Some ram’d their Noddles wi’ a Clank,

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Poems E’en like a thick scull’d Lord, On Posts that Day. The young Good-man to Bed did clim, 185 His Dear the Door did lock in; Crap down beyont him, and the Rim O’ ’er Wame he clapt his Dock on: She fand her Lad was not in Trim, And be this same good Token, 190 That ilka Member, Lith and Limb, Was souple like a Doken, ’Bout him that Day.136

Notwithstanding all this my publick spirited Pains, I am well assured there are a few heavy Heads, who will bring down the Thick of their Cheeks to the Sides of their Mouths, and richly Stupid, alledge there’s some Things in it have a Meaning. Well, I own it; and think it handsomer in a few Lines to say Something, than talk a great Deal, and mean Nothing. Pray, is there any Thing vicious or unbecoming, in saying, Mens Liths and Limbs are souple when intoxicated? Does it not show, that excessive Drinking enervates and unhinges a Man’s Constitution, and makes him uncapable of performing divine or natural Duties. There is the Moral. And believe me, I could raise many useful Notes from every Character, which the Ingenious will presently find out.

Great Wits sometimes may gloriously offend, And rise to Faults true Criticks dare not mend; From vulgar Bounds with brave Disorder part, And snatch a Grace beyond the reach of Art. POPE.

Thus have I pursued these Comical Characters, having Gentlemens Health and Pleasure, and the good manners of the Vulgar in View: The main Design of Comedy being to represent the Follies and Mistakes of low Life in a just Light, making them appear as ridiculous as they really are, that each who is a Spectator, may evite his being the Object of Laughter. Any Body that has a mind to look sour upon it, may use their Freedom. Not laugh, Beasts, Fishes, Fowls, nor Reptiles can; That’s a peculiar Happiness of Man: When govern’d with a prudent chearful Grace, ’Tis one of the first Beauties of the Face.

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The Scriblers Lash'd

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SCRIBLERS L A S H ’ D.

You write Pindaricks! and be d—nd, Write Epigrams for Cutlers; None with thy Nonsense will be sham’d But Chamber-maids and Butlers. In t’ other World expect dry blows, No Tears shall wipe thy Stains out: Horace shall pluck thee by the Nose, And Pindar beat thy Brains out. T. Brown to T. D’urfy.

That I thus prostitute my Muse On Theme so low, may gain Excuse; When following Motives shall be thought on, Which has this dogrel Fury brought on. I’m call’d in Honour to protect 5 The Fair when tret with Disrespect: Besides, a Zeal transports my Soul, Which no Constraint can e’er controul; In Service of the Government, To draw my Pen, and Satyr vent, 10 Against vile Mungrels of Parnassus, Who through Impunity oppress us. ’Tis to correct this scribbling Crew, Who, as in former Reigns, so now Torment the World, and load our Time 15 With Jargon cloath’d in wretched Rhime, Disgrace of Numbers! Earth! I hate them! And as they merit, so I’ll treat them. And first, these ill bred Things I lash, That heated Authors of the Trash, 20 In publick spread with little Wit, Much Malice, rude and bootless Spite, Against the Sex, who have no Arms To shield them from insulting Harms, Except the Light’ning of their Eye, 25 Which none but such blind Dolts defy. Ungen’rous War ! t’ attack the Fair: But Ladies fear not, ye’re the Care Of every Wit of true Descent, 109

Poems At once their Song and Ornament: 30 They’ll ne’er neglect the lovely Crowd: But spite of all the Multitude Of scribbling Fops, assert your Cause, And execute Apollo’s Laws: Apollo, who the Bard inspires 35 With softest Thoughts and divine Fires; Than whom on all the Earth there’s no Man More complaisant to a fine Woman. Such Veneration mixt with Love, Points out a Poet from above: 40 But Zanny’s void of Sense and Merit, Love, Fire, or Fancy, Wit or Spirit: Weak, frantick, clownish, and chagreen, Pretending, prompt by zealous Spleen, T’ affront your Head-dress, or your Bone-fence, 45 Make Printers Presses groan with Nonsense. But while Sol’s Offspring lives, as soon Shall they pull down his Sister Moon. They with low incoherent Stuff, Dark Sense, or none, Lines lame and rough; 50 Without a Thought, Air or Address, All the whole Logerhead confess. From clouded Notions in the Brain, They scrible in a cloudy Strain: Desire of Verse they reckon Wit, 55 And rhime without one Grain of it. Then hurry forth in publick Town Their Scrawls, lest they should be unknown. Rather than want a Fame, they choose The Plague of an infamous Muse. 60 Unthinking, thus the Sots aspire, And raise their own Reproach the high’r: By meddling with the Modes and Fashions Of Women of politest Nations. Perhaps by this they’d have it told us, 65 That in their Spirit something bold is, To challenge those who have the Skill, By Charms to save, and Frowns to kill. If not Ambition, then ’tis Spite, Which makes the puny Insects write. 70 Like old and mouldy Maids turn’d sour, When distant Charms have lost their Pow’r, Fly out in loud Transports of Passion, When ought that’s new comes first in Fashion; ’Till by Degrees it creeps right snodly 75 On Hips and Head-dress of the g—y . Thus they to please the sighing Sisters, 110

The Scriblers Lash'd Who often beet them in their Misters,137 With their malicious Breath set sail, And write these silly Things they rail. 80 Pimps! Such as you can ne’er extend A Flight of Wit, which may amend Our Morals; that’s a Plot too nice For you to laugh Folks out of Vice. Sighing, Oh hey! Ye cry, Alace! 85 This Fardingale’s a great Disgrace! And all indeed, because an Ancle, Or Foot is seen, might Monarchs mancle; And makes the Wise, with Face upright, Look up, and bless Heav’n for their Sight. 90 In your Opinion nothing matches, O horrid Sin! the Crime of Patches! ’Tis false, ye Clowns; I’ll make’t appear, The glorious Sun does Patches wear: Yea, run thro’ all the Frame of Nature, You’ll find a Patch for ev’ry Creature: Even you your selves, ye blackned Wretches, To Heliconians are the Patches.

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But grant that Ladies Modes were Ills To be reform’d; your creeping Skills, 100 Ye Rhimers, never would succeed, Who write what the polite ne’er read. To cure an Error of the Fair, Demands the nicest prudent Care; Wit utter’d in a pleasing Strain, 105 A Point so delicate may gain: But that’s a Task as far above Your shallow Reach, as I’m from Jove. No more then let the World be vexed With Baggage empty and perplexed: 110 But learn to speak with due Respect Of Peggie’s Breasts and Ivory Neck. Such purblind Eyes as yours ’tis true, Shou’d ne’er such divine Beauties view. If Nellie’s Hoop be twice as wide, 115 As her two pretty Limbs can stride; What then? Will any Man of Sense Take Umbrage, or the least Offence, At what even the most modest may Expose to Phebus’ brightest Ray? 120 Does not the handsome of our City, The Pious, Chaste, the Kind and Witty, 78. Beet them in their Misters ] Oblige them upon Occasion.

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Poems Who can afford it, great and small, Regard well shapen Fardingale? And will you, Mag-pyes, make a Noise? 125 You grumble at the Lady’s Choice? Pray leav’t to them, and Mothers wise, Who watch their Conduct, Mein and Guise, To shape their Weeds as fits their Ease; And place their patches as they please. 130 This shou’d be granted without grudging, Since we all know they’re best at judging, What from Making demands Devotion, In Gesture, Garb, free Airs, and Motion. But you! Unworthy of my Pen! 135 Unworthy to be class’d with Men! Haste to Caffar, ye clumsy Sots, And there make Love to Hottentots. Another Sett with Ballads waste Our Paper, and debauch our Taste 140 With endless ’larms on the Street, Where Crowds of circling Rabble meet. The Vulgar judge of Poetry, By what these Hawkers sing and cry: Yea, some who claim to Wit amiss, 145 Cannot distinguish That from This. Hence Poets are accounted now In Scotland a mean empty Crew; Whose Heads are craz’d, who spend their Time In that poor wretched Trade of Rhime. 150 Yet all the learn’d discerning Part Of Mankind own the heav’nly Art Is as much distant from such Trash, As lay’d Dutch Coin from Sterling Cash. Others in lofty Nonsense write; Incomprehensible’s their Flight; Such magick Pow’r is in their Pen, They can bestow on worthless Men More Virtue, Merit and Renown, Than ever they cou’d call their own. They write with arbitrary Power, And Pity ’tis they shou’d fall lower; Or stoop to Truth, or yet to meddle With common Sense, for Crambo didle.

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But none of all the rhiming Herd 165 Are more encourag’d and rever’d By heavy Souls to their’s ally’d, Than such who tell who lately dy’d. No sooner is the Spirit flown, 112

The Scriblers Lash'd From its Clay Cage, to Lands unknown, Than some rash Hackney gets his Name, And thro’ the Town laments the same: An honest Burgess cannot dy, But they must weep in Elegy; Even when the virtuous Soul is soaring Thro’ middle Air, he hears it roaring. These Ills, and many more Abuses, Which plague Mankind, and vex the Muses, On Pain of Poverty shall cease, And all the Fair shall live in Peace: And every one shall die contented, Happy when not by them lamented. For great Apollo in his Name, Has ord’red me thus to proclaim:

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“Forasmuch as grov’ling Crew, 185 “With narrow Mind, and brazen Brow, “Wou’d fain to Poets Title mount, “And with vile Maggots rub Affront “On an old Virtuoso Nation, “Where our lov’d Nine maintain their Station: 190 “We order strick, that all refrain “To write, who Learning want, and Brain; “Pedants, with Hebrew Roots o’ergrown, “Learn’d in each Language but their own. “Each spiritless half starving Sinner, 195 “Who knows not how to get his Dinner: “Dealers in small Ware, Clinks, Whim Whams, “Acrosticks, Puns, and Anagrams; “And all who their Productions grudge, “To be canvast by skilful Judge, 200 “Who can find out indulgent Trip, “Whilst ’tis in harmless Manuscript. “But to all them who disobey, “And jog on still in their own Way; “Be’t kend to all Men that our Will is, “Since all they write so wretched ill is; “They must dispatch their shallow Ghosts, “To Pluto’s Jakes, and take their Posts; “There to attend, ’till Dis shall deign “To use their Works; the Use is plain. Now know, ye Scoundrels, if ye stand To humph and ha at this Command, The Furies have prepar’d a Halter, To hang, or drive ye helter skelter, 113

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Poems Through Bogs and Moors, like Rats and Mice, Pursu’d with Hunger, Rags and Lice, If e’er ye dare again to croak, And God of Harmony provoke. Wherefore pursue some Craft for Bread, Where Hands may better serve than Head; Nor ever hope in Verse to shine, Or share in Homer’s Fate or –—.

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CONTENT a

P O E M. Content is Wealth, the Riches of the Mind; And happy he who can that Treasure find: But the base Miser starves amidst his Store, Broods on his Gold, and gripping still for more, Sits sadly pining, and believes he’s poor. Dryden.

} Virtue was taught in Verse, and Athens’ Glory rose. Prior. When genial beams wade thro’ the dewy Morn, And from the Clod invite the sprouting Corn; When chequer’d Green, wing’d Musik, new blown Scents, Conspir’d to soothe the Mind, and please each Sense: Then down a shady Haugh I took my Way, Delighted with each Flower and budding Spray; Musing on all that Hurry, Pain and Strife, Which flow from the phantastick Ills of Life. Enlarg’d from such Distresses of the Mind, Due Gratitude to Heav’n my Thoughts refin’d, And made me in the laughing Sage’s Way,138 As a mere Farce the murm’ring World survey; Finding imagin’d Maladies abound, Tenfold for one, which gives a real Wound. Godlike is he whom no false Fears annoy, Who lives content, and grasps the present Joy; Whose Mind is not with wild Convulsions rent Of Pride, and Avarice, and Discontent: Whose well train’d Passions, with a pious Aw, 11. Laughing Sage ] Democritus.

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Content Are all subordinate to Reason’s Law: 20 Then smooth Content arises like the Day, And makes each rugged Phantom fly away. To lowest Men she gives a lib’ral Share Of solid Bliss, she mitigates our Care, Enlarging Joys, administrating Health; 25 The rich Man’s Pleasure, and the poor Man’s wealth; A Train of Comforts on her Nod attend, And to her Sway Profits and Honours bend. Hail blest Content! who art by Heav’n design’d Parent of Health and Chearfulness of Mind; Serene Content shall animate my Song, And make the immortal Numbers smooth and strong. Silenus, thou whose hoary Beard and Head Experience speak, and Youth’s Attention plead; Retail thy gather’d Knowledge, and disclose What State of Life enjoys the most Repose. Thus I addrest: —And thus the ancient Bard; — First, to no State of Life fix thy Regard. All Mortals may be happy, if they please, Not rack’d with Pain, nor lingering Disease. Midas the Wretch, wrapt in his patched Rags, With empty Paunch, sits brooding o’er his Bags; Meager his Look, his Mind in constant Fright, If Winds but move his Windows in the Night; If Dogs should bark, or but a Mouse make Din, He sweats and starts, and thinks the Thief’s got in: His Sleep forsakes him ’till the Dawn appears, Which every Thing but such a Caitiff chears; It gives him Pain to buy a Farthing-Light, He jums at Home in Darkness all the Night. What makes him manage with such cautious Pain? ’Twould break a Sum; a Farthing spent so vain! If e’er he’s pleased, ’tis when some needful Man Gives Ten per Cent with an insuring Pawn, Tho he’s provided in as much would serve Whole Nestor’s Years, he ever fears to starve. Tell him of Alms, alas! he’d rather chuse Damnation and the promis’d Bliss refuse. — And is there such a Wretch beneath the Sun — ? Yes, he return’d, Thousands instead of one, To whom Content is utterly unknown.— Are all the rich Men such? — He answer’d, No; Marcus hath Wealth, and can his Wealth bestow Upon himself, his Friends, and on the Poor, Enjoys enough, and wishes for no more.

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Poems Reverse of these, is he who braves the Skie, Cursing his Maker when he throws the Die: Gods, Devils, Furies, Hell, Heaven, Blood and Wounds, Promiscuous fly in Bursts of tainted Sounds: He to Perdition doth his Soul bequeath, Yet inly trembles when he thinks of Death. Except at Game, he ne’er employs his Thought Till hiss’d and pointed at, — not worth a Groat. The desp’rate Remnant of a large Estate Goes at one Throw, and points his gloomy Fate; He finds his Folly now, but finds too late. Ill brooks my fondling Master to be poor, Bred up to nought but Bottle, Game, and Whore. How pitiful he looks without his Rent! They who fly Vertue, ever fly Content,

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Now I beheld the Sage look’d less severe, Whilst Pity join’d his old Satyrick Lear. The weakly Mind, said he, is quickly torn, Men are not Gods, some Frailties must be born: Heaven’s bounteous Hand all in their Turn abuse, The happiest Men at Times their Fate refuse, Befool themselves, — and trump up an Excuse.

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Is Lucius but a Subaltern of Foot? His Equal Gallus is a Coronet. Sterilla shuns a Gossiping, and why? The teeming Mother fills her with Envy. The pregnant Matron’s Grief as much prevails, Some of the Children always something ails: One Boy is sick, t’other has broke his Head, And Nurse is blam’d when little Miss is dead.

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A Dutchess on a Velvet Couch reclin’d, Blabs her fair Cheeks till she is almost blind; Poor Phili’s Death the briny Pearls demands, Who ceases now to snarl and lick her Hands. With Penetration carve out Kingdoms Fates, } Look sour, drink Coffee, shrug, and read Gazettes: The Politicians, who in learn’d Debates,

Deep sunk in Craft of State their Souls are lost, And all their Hopes depend upon the Post: Each Mail that’s due they curse the contrair Wind, ’Tis strange if this Way Men Contentment find. Tho old, their Humors I am yet to learn, Who vex themselves in what they’ve no Concern. Ninny the glaring Fop, who always runs 116

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Content In Tradesmen’s Books, which makes the careful Duns Often e’er Ten to break his slumb’ring Rest: Whilst with their craving Clamours he’s opprest, He frames Excuses ’till his Cranny akes, Then thinks he justly damns the cursed Snakes. The disappointed Dun with as much Ire, Both threats and curses till his Breast’s on Fire: Then home he goes, and pours it on his House, His Servants suffer oft, and oft his Spouse. Some groan thro’ Life amidst a Heap of Cares, To load with too much Wealth their lazy Heirs: The lazy Heir turns all to Ridicule, And all his Life proclaims his Father Fool. He toils in spending. — Leaves a Threed-bare Son, To scrape anew, as had his Grandsire done. How is the fair Myrtilla’s Bosom fir’d, If Leda’s sable Locks are more admir’d; While Leda does her secret Sighs discharge, Because her Mouth’s a Straw-breadth, ah! too large. Thus sung the Sire, and left me to evite The scorching Beams in some cool green Retreat; Where gentle Slumber seiz’d my weary’d Brain, And mimick Fancy op’d the following Scene.

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Methought I stood upon a rising Ground, A splendid Landskip open’d all around, Rocks, Rivers, Meadows, Gardens, Parks and Woods, 135 And Domes, which hid their Turrets in the Clouds; To me approach’d a Nymph divinely fair, Celestial Virtue shone through all her Air: A Nymph for Grace, her Wisdom more renown’d Adorn’d each Grace, and both true Valour crown’d. 140 Around her heav’nly Smiles a Helmet blaz’d, And graceful as she mov’d, a Spear she gently rais’d. My Sight at first the Lustre scarce could bear, Her dazling Glories shone so strong and clear: A Majesty sublime, with all that’s sweet, 145 Did Adoration claim, and Love invite. I felt her Wisdom’s Charm my Thoughts inspire, Her dauntless Courage set my Soul on Fire. The Maid, when thus I knew, I soon addrest, My present wishful Thoughts the Theme suggest: 150 “Of all th’ etherial Powers thou noblest Maid, “To humane Weakness lend’st the readiest Aid: “To where Content and her blest Train reside, “Immortal Pallas, deign to be my Guide, With my Request well pleas’d, our Course we bent, 155 117

Poems To find the Habitation of Content. Thro’ fierce Bellona’s Tents we first advanc’d, Where Cannons bounc’d, and nervous Horses pranc’d: Here Vi & Armis sat with dreadful Aw And daring Front, to prop each Nation’s Law: Attending Squadrons on her Motions wait, Array’d in Deaths, and fearless of their Fate. Here Chiftain Souls glow’d with as great a Fire, As his who made the World but one Empire. Even in low Ranks brave Spirits might be found, Who wanted nought of Monarchs but a Crown. But ah! Ambition stood a Foe to Peace, Shaking the Empty Fob and ragged Fleece; Which were more hideous to these Sons of War, Than Brimstone, Smoak, and Storms of Bullets are. Here, said my Guide, Content is rarely found, Where Blood and noisy Jars beset the Ground.

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Trade’s wealthy Ware-house next fell in our Way, Where in great Bales Part of each Nation lay, The Spanish Citron, and Hesperia’s Oil, 175 Persia’s soft Product, and the Chinese Toil; Warm Borneo’s Spices, Arab’s scented Gum, The Polish Amber, and the Saxon Mum, The Orient Pearl, Holland’s Lace and Toys, And Tinsie Work, which the fair Nun imploys. 180 From India Ivory, and the clouded Cane, And Coacheneal from Straits of Magellan. The Scandinavian Rosin, Hemp and Tar, The Lapland Furs, and Russia’s Caviare, The Gallick Punchion charg’d with Ruby Juice, 185 Which makes the Hearts of Gods and Men rejoice. Britannia here pours from her plenteous Horn, Her shining Mirrors, Clock-work, Cloaths and Corn. Here Cent per Cents sat poring o’er their Books, While many shew’d the Bankrupts in their Looks, 190 Who by Mismanagement their Stock had spent, Curs’d these hard Times, and blam’d the Government. The Missive Letter, and peremptor Bill, Forbade them rest, and call’d forth all their Skill, Uncertain Credit bore the Sceptre here, 195 And her prime Ministers were Hope and Fear. The surly Chufs demanded what we sought, Content, said I, may she with Gold be bought? Content! said one, then star’d and bit his Thumb, And leering ask’d, if I was worth a Plum.139 200 200. Worth a Plum ] 10000 Lib.

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Content Love’s fragrant Fields, where mildest western Gales, Loaden with Sweets, perfume the Hills and Dales; Where longing Lovers haunt the Streams and Glades, And cooling Groves, whose Verdure never fades; Thither with Joy and hasty Steps we strode, There sure I thought our long’d for Bliss abode. Whom first we met on that enchanted Plain, Was a tall Yellow-hair’d young pensive Swain; Him I addrest, — “O Youth, what heavenly Power “Commands and graces yon Elysian Bower? “Sure ’tis Content, else much I am deceiv’d. The Shepherd sigh’d, and told me that I rav’d. Rare she appears, unless on some fine Day She grace a Nuptial, but soon hasts away: If her you seek, soon hence you must remove, Her Presence is precarious in Love. Thro’ these and other Shrines we wander’d long, Which merit no Description in my Song: ’Till at the last, methought we cast our Eye Upon an antique Temple, square and high, Its Area wide, its Spire did pierce the Sky; On adamantine Dorick Pillars rear’d, Strong Gothick Work the massy Pile appear’d: Nothing seem’d little, all was great design’d, Which pleas’d the Eye at once, and fill’d the Mind. Whilst Wonder did my curious Thoughts engage, To us approach’d a studious rev’rend Sage: Both Aw and Kindness his grave Aspect bore, Which spoke him rich with Wisdom’s finest Store. He ask’d our Errand there, — “Straight, I reply’d, “Content; in these high Towers does she reside? Not far from hence, said he, her Palace stands, Ours she regards, as we do her Demands, Philosophy sustains her peaceful Sway, And in Return she feasts us every Day. Then straight an antient Telescope he brought, By Socrates and Epictetus wrought, Improved since, made easier to the Sight, Lengthen’d the Tube, the Glasses ground more bright: Through this he shew’d a Hill, whose lofty Brow Enjoy’d the Sun, while Vapours all below, In pitchy Clouds, encircled it around, Where Phantoms of most horrid Forms abound; The ugly Brood of lazy Spleen and Fear, Frightful in Shape, most monstrous appear. Then thus my Guide, —— Your Way lies through yon Gloom, be not agast, Come briskly on, you’ll jest them when they’re past: Mere empty Spectres, harmless as the Air,

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Poems Which merit not your Notice, less your Care. Encourag’d with her Word, I thus addrest My noble Guide, and grateful Joy exprest. “O sacred Wisdom! Thine’s the Source of Light, “Without thy Blaze the World would grope in Night. “Of Woe and Bliss thou only art the Test, “Falshood and Truth before thee stand confest: “Thou mak’st a double Life: One Nature gave, “But without thine, what is it Mortals have? “A breathing Motion grazing to the Grave.

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Now through the Damps methought we boldly went, Smiling at all the Grins of Discontent: Tho oft pull’d back, the rising Ground we gain’d, Whilst inward Joy my weary’d Limbs sustain’d. Arriv’d the Height, whose Top was large and plain, And what appear’d soon recompens’d my Pain, Nature’s whole Beauty deck’d the enamell’d Scene.

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Amidst the Glade the sacred Palace stood, The Architecture not so fine as good; Nor scrimp, nor gousty, regular and plain, Plain were the Columns which the Roof sustain: 270 An easy Greatness in the whole was found, Where all that Nature wanted did abound. But here no Beds are screen’d with rich Brocade, Nor Fewel-Logs in Silver Grates are laid: No broken China Bowls disturb the Joy 275 Of waiting Handmaid, or the running Boy; Nor in the Cupboard Heaps of Plate are rang’d, To be with each splenetick Fashion chang’d. A weather-beaten Sentry watch’d the Gate, Of Temper cross, and practis’d in Debate: 280 Till once acquaint with him, no Entry here, Tho brave as Cæsar, or as Helen fair: To Strangers fierce, but with Familiars tame, And Touchstone Disappointment was his Name. This fair Inscription shone above the Gate, Fear none but him whose Will directs thy Fate. With Smile austere he lifted up his Head, Pointed the Characters and bid us read. We did, and stood resolv’d. The Gates at last Op’d of their own Accord, and in we past. Each Day a Herauld, by the Queen’s Command, Was order’d on a Mount to take his Stand, And thence to all the Earth this Offer make, “Who are inclin’d her Favours to partake, 120

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Rais’d on a Throne within the outer Gate, The Goddess sat, her Vot’ries round her wait: The beautiful Divinity disclos’d Sweetness sublime, which roughest Cares compos’d: 300 Her looks sedate, yet joyful and serene, Not rich her Dress, but suitable and clean: Unfurrow’d was her Brow, her Cheeks were smooth, Tho old as Time, enjoy’d immortal Youth; And all her Accents so harmonious flow’d, 305 That ev’ry listning Ear with Pleasure glow’d. An Olive Garland on her Head she wore, And her right Hand a Cornucopia bore. Cross Touchstone fill’d a Bench without the Door, To try the Sterling of each humane Ore: 310 Grim Judge he was, and them away he sent, Unfit t’approach the Shrine of calm Content. To him a hoary Dotard load with Bags: Unweildy Load! to one who hardly drags His Being. — More than Seventy Years, said he, I’ve sought this Court, ’till now unfound by me: Now let me rest. — “Yes, if ye want no more; “But e’er the Sun has made his annual Tour, “Know, grov’ling Wretch, thy Wealth’s without thy Pow’r. The Thoughts of Death, and ceasing from his Gain, Brought on the old Man’s Head so sharp a Pain, Which dim’d his optick Nerves, and with the Light He lost the Palace, and crawl’d back to Night.

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Poor gripping Thing, how useless is thy Breath, While nothing’s so much long’d for as thy Death? How meanly hast thou spent thy Lease of Years? A Slave to Poverty, to Toils and Fears; And all to vie with some black rugged Hill, Whose rich Contents Millions of Chests can fill. As round the greedy Rock clings to the Mine, And hinders it in open Day to shine, Till Diggers hew it from the Spar’s Embrace, Making it circle, stampt with Cæsar’s Face; So dost thou hoard, and from thy Prince purloin His useful Image, and thy Country Coin, Till gaping Heirs have free’d th’imprison’d Slave, When to their Comfort thou hast fill’d a Grave. The next who with a janty Air approach’d, Was a gay Youth, who thither had been coach’d: Sleek were his Flanders Mares, his Liv’ries fine, 121

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Poems With glittering Gold his Furniture did shine. Sure such methought may enter when they please, Who have all these Appearances of Ease. Strutting he march’d, nor any Leave he crav’d, Attemp’t to pass, but found himself deceiv’d: Old Touchstone gave him on the Breast a Box, Which op’d the Sluces of a latent Pox, Then bid his Equipage in haste depart. The Youth look’d at them with a fainting Heart; He found he could not walk, and bid them stay, Swore three cramp Oaths, mounted and wheel’d away. The Pow’r express’d herself thus with a Smile, “These changing Shadows are not worth our while; “With smallest Trifles oft their Peace is torn, “If here at Night, they rarely wait the Morn. Another Beau as fine, but more vivace, Whose Airs sat round him with an easy Grace, And well bred Motion, came up to the Gate, I lov’d him much, and trembl’d for his Fate. The Sentry broke his clouded Cane, —He smil’d, Got fairly in, and all our Fears beguil’d. The Cane was soon renew’d which had been broke, And thus the Vertue to the Circle spoke, “Each Thing magnificent or gay we grant, “To them who’re capable to bear their Want.

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Two handsome Toasts came next, them well I knew, Their lovely Make the Court’s Observance drew; Three waiting Maids attended in the Rear, Each loaden with as much as she could bear: One mov’d beneath a Load of Silks and Lace, 370 Another bore the Offsets of the Face; But the most bulky Burden of the Three, Was hers who bore the Utensils of Bohee. My Mind indulgent in their Favour pled, Hoping no Opposition would be made: 375 So mannerly, so smooth, so mild their Eye, Enough almost to give Content Envy. But soon I found my Error, the bold Judge, Who acted as if prompted by some Grudge, Them thus saluted with a hollow Tone, 380 “You’re none of my Acquaintance, get you gone; “What Loads of Trump’ry these?— Ha, where’s my Cross? “I’ll try if these be solid Ware or boss, The China felt the Fury of his Blow, And lost a Being, or for Use or Show; 385 For Use or Show no more’s each Plate or Cup, But all in Shreds upon the Threshold drop. 122

Content Now every Charm which deck’d their Face before, Give Place to Rage, and Beauty is no more. The brinny Stream their rosy Cheeks besmear’d, Whilst they in Clouds of Vapours disappear’d. A rustick Hynd, attir’d in home-spun Gray, With forked Locks, and Shoes bedaub’d with Clay; Palms shod with Horn, his Front fresh, brown and broad, With Legs and Shoulders fitted for a Load; He ’midst ten bawling Children laugh’d and sung, While Consort Hobnails on the Pavement rung: Up to the Porter unconcern’d he came, Forcing along his Offspring and their Dame. Cross Touchstone strove to stop him, but the Clown At Handy-cuffs him match’d, and threw him down; And spite of him into the Palace went, Where he was kindly welcom’d by Content.

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Two Busbian Philosophs put in their Claims, Gamaliel and Critis were their Names; 405 But soon’s they had our British Homer seen, With Face unruffl’d waiting on the Queen, Envious Hate their surly Bosoms fir’d, Their Colour chang’d, they from the Porch retir’d: Backward they went, reflecting with much Rage 410 On the bad Taste and Humor of the Age, Which pay’d so much Respect to nat’ral Parts, While they were starving Graduates of Arts. The Goddess fell a laughing at the Fools, And sent them packing to their Grammar Schools; 415 Or in some Garret elevate to dwell, There with Sisyphian Toil to teach young Beaus to spell. Now all this while a Gale of Eastern Wind, And cloudy Skies opprest the humane Mind; The Wind set West, back’d with the radiant Beams, Which warm’d the Air, and danc’d upon the Streams, Exhal’d the Spleens, and sooth’d a World of Souls, Who crowded now the Avenue in Shoals. Numbers in black, of Widowers, Relicts, Heirs, Of new wed Lovers many handsome Pairs; Men landed from Abroad, from Camps and Seas; Others got through some dangerous Disease: A Train of Belles adorn’d with something new, And even of ancient Prudes there were a few, Who were refresh’d with Scandal and with Tea, Which for a Space set them from Vapours free. Here from their Cups the lower Species flockt, And Knaves with Bribes and cheating Methods stockt. 123

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Poems The Pow’r survey’d the Troop, and gave command They should no longer in the Entry stand, But be convey’d into Chimera’s Tower, There to attend her Pleasure for an Hour. Soon as they entred, Apprehension shook The Fabrick: Fear was fixt on every Look, Old Age and Poverty, Disease, Disgrace, With horrid Grin, star’d full in every Face, Which made them, trembling at their unknown Fate, Issue in Haste out by the postern Gate. None waited out their Hour but only two, Who had been wedded Fifteen Years ago. The Man had learn’d the World, and fixt his Mind; His Spouse was chearful, beautiful and kind: She neither fear’d the Shock, nor Phantoms Stare: She thought her Husband wise, and knew that he was there. Now while the Court was sitting, my fair Guide Into a fine Elysium me convey’d; I saw, or thought I saw the spacious Fields Adorn’d with all prolifick Nature yields, Profusely rich, with her most valu’d Store: But as m’enchanted Fancy wander’d o’er The happy plain, new Beauties seem’d to rise, The Fields were fled, and all was painted Skies. Pleas’d for a while, I wish’d the former Scene; Straight all return’d and eas’d me of my Pain. Again the flow’ry Meadows disappear, And Hills and Groves their stately Summits rear; These sink again, and rapid Rivers flow, Next from the Rivers Cities seem to grow. Sometime the fleeting Scene I had forgot, In busie Thought intranc’d, with Pain I sought To know the hidden Charm, straight all was fled And boundless Heav’ns o’er boundless Ocean spread; Impatient I obtest my noble Guide, Reveal this wond’rous Secret, she reply’d.

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We carried on what greatly we design’d, When all these humane Follies you resign’d, Ambition, Lux’ry, and a cov’tous Mind: Yet think not true Content can thus be bought, There’s wanting still a Train of virtuous Thought.

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When me your Leader prudently you chose, And listning to my Counsel, didst refuse Fantastick Joys, your Soul was thus prepar’d For true Content; and thus I do reward

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Content Your gen’rous Toil. Observe this wondrous Clime; Of Nature’s Blessings here are hid the Prime: But wise and virtuous Thought in constant Course, Must draw these Beauties from their hidden Source; The smallest Intermissions will transform The pleasant Scene, and spoil each perfect Charm. ’Tis ugly Vice will rob you of Content, And to your View all hellish Woes present. Nor grudge the Care in Vertue you employ, Your present Toil will prove your future Joy. Then smil’d she heav’nly sweet, and parting said, Hold fast your virtuous Mind, of nothing be afraid. A while the charming Voice so fill’d my Ears, I grieve the divine Form no more appears. Then to confirm my yet unsteady Mind, Under a lonely Shadow I reclin’d, To try the Virtues of the Clime I sought: Then straight call’d up a Train of hideous Thought, Famine, and Blood, and Pestilence appear, Wild Shrieks and loud Laments disturb mine Ear; New Woes and Horrors did my Sight alarm. Envy and Hate compos’d the wretched Charm. Soon as I saw, I dropt the hateful View, And thus I sought past Pleasures to renew. To heav’nly Love my Thoughts I next compose, Then quick as thought the following Sighs disclose: Streams, Meadows, Grotto’s, Groves, Birds carrolling, Calmness, and temp’rate Warmth, and endless Spring; A perfect Transcript of these upper Bowers, The Habitation of th’ immortal Powers.

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Back to the Palace ravished I went, Resolved to reside with blest Content, 510 Where all my special Friends methought I met, In Order ’mongst the best of Mankind set: My Soul with too much Pleasure overcharg’d, The captiv’d Senses to their Post enlarg’d: Lifting mine Eyes I view’d declining Day, 515 Sprang from the Green, and homeward bent my Way, Reflecting on that Hurry, Pain and Strife Which flow from false and real Ills of Life.

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RICHY and SANDY, a

PASTORAL

On the Death of JOSEPH ADDISON, Esq; RICHY.140 What gars thee look sae dowf, dear Sandy, say? Chear up dull Fallow, take thy Reed and play, My Apron Deary, —or some wanton Tune: Be merry Lad, and keep thy Heart aboon. SANDY. Na, na, it winna do! Leave me to mane, This aught Days twice o’er tell’d I’ll whistle nane. RICHY. Wow Man, that’s unco’ said, —Is that ye’r Jo Has ta’en the Strunt? —Or has some Bogle-bo Glowrin frae ’mang auld Waws gi’en te a Fleg? Or has some dawted Wedder broke his Leg?

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An Explanation of Richy and Sandy, by Josiah Burchet Esq; RICHY. What makes thee look so sad? dear Sandy say. Rouse up dull Fellow, take thy Reed and play A merry Jig, or try some other Art, To raise thy Spirits, and cheer up thy Heart. SANDY. No, no, it will not do! Leave me to moan, Till twice eight Days are past I’ll whistle none.

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RICHY. That’s strange indeed! Has Jenny made the sad? Or, tell me, hath some horrid Spectre, Lad, (Glaring from Ruins old, in silent Night) Surpriz’d, and put thee in a panic Fright? 10 Or ails that Wedder ought, thy Favourite?

} Richy and Sandy ] Sir Richard Steel and Mr. Alexander Pope.

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Richy and Sandy SANDY. Naithing like that, sic Troubles eith were born, What’s Bogles, —Wedders, — or what’s Mausy’s Scorn? Our loss is meikle mair, and past Remeed, Edie, that play’d and sang sae sweet, is dead. RICHY. Dead, say’st thou; Oh! Had up my Heart O Pan! Ye Gods! What Laids ye lay on feckless Man! Alake therefore, I canna wyt ye’r Wae, I’ll bear ye Company for Year and Day. A better Lad ne’er lean’d out o’er a Kent, Or hounded Coly o’er the mossy Bent: Blyth at the Bought how aft ha’ we three been, Heartsome on Hills, and gay upon the Green. SANDY. That’s true indeed! But now thae Days are gane, And with him a’ that’s pleasant on the Plain. A Summer Day I never thought it lang To hear him make a Roundel or a Sang. How sweet he sung where Vines and Myrtles grow,141

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E X PL A N AT I O N. SANDY. Such Troubles might with much more Ease be born: What’s Goblins, Wedders, or what’s Woman’s Scorn? Our Loss is greater far; for Addy’s dead, Addy, who sang so sweetly on the Mead. RICHY. Dead is he, say’st thou? Guard my Heart, oh Pan! What Burthens, Gods, ye lay on feeble Man! Alack I cannot blame thee for thy Grief; Nor hope I, more than thou, to find Relief. A better Lad ne’er lean’d on Shepherd’s Crook, Nor after Game halloo’d his Dog to look. How glad where Ews give Milk have we three been, Merry on Hills, and gay upon the Green! SANDY. That’s true indeed; but now, alas! in vain We seek for Pleasure on the rural Plain: I never thought a Summer’s Day too long To hear his Couplets, or his tuneful Song. How sweet he sang where Vines and Myrtles grow, 27. How sweet ] His Poetick Epistle from Italy to the Earl Halifax.

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Poems Of wimpling Waters which in Latium flow. Titry the Mantuan Herd wha lang sinsyne Best sung on aeten Reed the Lover’s Pine, 30 Had he been to the fore now in our Days, Wi’ Edie he had frankly dealt his Bays. As lang’s the Warld shall Amaryllis ken, His Rosamond shall eccho thro’ the Glen;142 While on the Burn Banks the yellow Gowan grows, 35 Or wand’ring Lambs rin bleeting after Ews, His Fame shall last: last shall his Sang of Weirs,143 While British Bairns brag of their bauld Forebears. We’ll mickle miss his blyth and witty Jest At Spaining Time, or at our Lambmass Feast. 40 O, Richy, but ’tis hard that Death ay reaves Away the best Fowck, and the ill ane leaves. Hing down ye’r Head ye Hills, greet out ye’r Springs. Upon ye’r Edge na mair the Shepherd sings. RICHY. Than he had ay a good Advice to gi’e, And kend my Thoughts amaist as well as me; Had I been thowless, vext, or oughtlins sow’r,

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E X PL A N AT I O N. And winding Streams which in old Latium flow! 30 Titry, the Mantuan Herd, who long ago Sang best on Oaten Reed the Lover’s Woe, Did he, fam’d Bard, but live in these our Days, He would with Addy freely share his Bays. As long as Shepherds Amaryllis hear, So long his Rosamond shall please the Ear. 35 While spangled Daisie near the Riv’let grows, And tender Lambs seek after bleating Ews, His Fame shall last. Last shall his Song of Wars, While British Youngsters boast of Ancestors. Much shall we miss his merry witty Jests, 40 At weaning Times, and at our Lambmass Feasts. Oh Richy! Richy! Death hath been unkind To take the Good, and leave the Ill behind. Bow down your Heads ye Hills, weep dry your Springs, For on their Banks no more the Shepherd sings. 45 RICHY. Then he had always good Advice to give, And could my Thoughts, like as my self, conceive. When I’ve been drooping, vex’d, or in the Spleen, 34. Rosamond ] An Opera wrote by him. 37. Sang of Weirs ] His Campaign; An heroick Poem.

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Richy and Sandy He wad have made me blyth in haff an Hour. Had Rosie ta’en the Dorts, —or had the Tod Worry’d my Lamb, —or were my Feet ill shod, Kindly he’d laugh when sae he saw me dwine, And tauk of Happiness like a Divine. Of ilka Thing he had an unco’ Skill, He kend be Moon Light how Tides ebb and fill. He kend, what kend he no? E’en to a Hair He’d tell o’er Night gin neist Day wad be fair. Blind John, ye mind, wha sang in kittle Phrase,144 How the ill Sp’rit did the first Mischief raise; Mony a Time beneath the auld birk-tree, What’s bonny in that Sang he loot me see. The Lasses aft flang down their Rakes and Pales, And held their Tongues, O strange! to hear his Tales. SANDY. Sound be his Sleep, and saft his Wak’ning be, He’s in a better Case than thee or me; He was o’er good for us; the Gods hae ta’en Their ain but back, —he was a borrow’d Len. Let us be good, gin Virtue be our Drift,

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E X PL A N AT I O N. In one half Hour with him I’ve merry been. 50 Had Jenny froward been, or Raynard bold Worry’d my Lamb, or were my Shoes grown old; Kindly he’d smile, when he observ’d me grieve, And by his Talk divine my Breast relieve. Addy did all Things to Perfection know; Saw by the Moon how Tides would ebb or flow. 55 He knew, what knew he not? E’en to a Hair He’d tell o’er Night if next Day would be fair. The fam’d blind Bard sang in mysterious Phrase How envious Satan did first Mischief raise; But oft beneath the well-spread Birchen-Tree 60 The Beauties of that Song he made me see. The Lasses oft flung down their Rakes and Pales, And held their Tongues, Oh strange! to hear his Tales. SANDY. Sound be his Sleep, and soft his Waking be; More happy is he far than thee or me: Too good he was for us; the Gods but lent Him here below, when hither he was sent. Let us be good, if Virtue be our Aim,

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Poems Then may we yet forgether ’boon the Lift. But see the Sheep are wising to the Cleugh; Thomas has loos’d his Ousen frae the Pleugh; Maggy by this has bewk the Supper-Scones, And nuckle Kye stand rowting on the Loans: Come, Richy, let us truse and hame o’er bend, And make the best of what we canna mend.145

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E X PL A N AT I O N. Then we may meet above the Skies again. But see how tow’rds the Glade the Fatlings go; Thomas hath ta’en the Oxen from the Plough; Joan hath prepar’d the Supper ’gainst we come, And late calf’d Cows stand lowing near their Home: Then let’s have done, and to our Rest repair, And what we cannot help, with Patience bear.

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To Mr. Allan Ramsay TO

Mr. ALLAN RAMSAY, ON HIS

Richy and Sandy. By Mr. Burchet. WEll fare thee, Allan, who in Mother Tongue, So sweetly hath of breathless Addy sung. His endless Fame thy nat’ral Genius fir’d, And thou hast written as if he inspir’d. Richy and Sandy, who do him survive, 5 Long as thy rural Stanza’s last, shall live. The grateful Swains thou’st made, in tuneful Verse, Mourn sadly o’er their late — lost Patron’s Hearse. Nor would the Mantuan Bard, if living, blame Thy pious Zeal, or think thou’st hurt his Fame, 10 Since Addison’s inimitable Lays Give him an equal Title to the Bays. When he of Armies sang, in lofty Strains, It seem’d as if he in the hostile Plains Had present been. His Pen hath to the Life: 15 Trac’d ev’ry Action in the sanguine Strife. In Council now sedate the Chief appears, Then loudly thunders in Bavarian Ears; And still pursuing the destructive Theme, He pushes them into the rapid Stream. 20 Thus beaten out of Blenheim’s neighb’ring Fields, The Gallic Gen’ral to the Victor yields, Who, as Britannia’s Virgil hath observ’d, From threatn’d Fate all Europe then preserv’d. Nor dost thou, Ramsay, sightless Milton wrong, By ought contain’d in thy melodious Song; For none but Addy could his Thoughts sublime So well unriddle, or his mystick Rhime. And when he deign’d to let his Fancy rove Where Sun-burnt Shepherds to the Nymphs make Love, No one e’er told in softer Notes the Tales Of rural Pleasures in the spangled Vales. So much, Oh Allan! I thy Lines revere, Such Veneration to his Mem’ry bear, That I no longer could my Thanks refrain For what thou’st sung of the lamented Swain.

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To JOSIAH BURCHET Esq; Thirsting for Fame, at the Pierian Spring The Poet takes a Waught, then seys to sing Nature, and with the tentiest View to hit Her bonny Side with bauldest Turns of Wit. Streams slide in Verse, in Verse the Mountains rise, When Earth turns toom he rummages the Skies, Mounts up beyond them, paints the Fields of Rest, Doups down to visit ilka laigh-land Ghaist. I hartsome Labour! Wordy Time and Pains, That, frae the Best, Esteem and Friendship gains. Be that my Luck, and let the greedy Bike Stock-job the Warld among them as they like. In blyth braid Scots allow me, Sir, to shaw My Gratitude, but Fleetching or a Flaw.146 May Rowth o’ Pleasures light upon ye lang, Till to the blest Elysian Bowers ye gang; Wha’ve clapt my Head sae brawly for my Sang. When honour’d Burchet and his Maiks are pleas’d With my Corn-pipe, up to the Starns I’m heez’d; Whence far I glowr to the Fag-end of Time, And view the Warld delighted wi’ my Rhime. That when the Pride of sprush new Words are laid, I like the Classick Authors shall be read. Stand yont proud Czar, I wadna niffer Fame With thee, for a’ thy Furrs and paughty Name.

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If sic great Ferlies, Sir, my Muse can do,

As spin a three-plait Praise where it is due, } Frae me there’s nane deserves it mair than you. Frae me! Frae ilky ane; for sure a Breast Sae gen’rous is of a’ that’s Good possest. Till I can serve ye mair, I’ll wish ye weell, And aft in sparkling Claret drink your Heel: Minding the Mem’ry of the Great and Good Sweet Addison, the Wale of humane Blood, Wha sell, (as Horace anes said to his Billy) Nulli flebilior quam tibi Virgili. SIR, Your’s, &c. Al. Ramsay.

15. But fleetching ] But is frequently used for without, i. e. without flat’ring.

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Familiar Epistles

Familiar Epistles between Lieutenant William Hamilton and Allan Ramsay.

E P I S T L E I.

Gilbertfield June 26th, 1719. O Fam’d and celebrated Allan! Renowned Ramsay, canty Callan, There’s nowther Highlandman or Lawlan, In Poetrie, But may as soon ding down Tamtallan147 As match wi’ thee. For ten Times ten, and that’s a hunder, 5 I ha’e been made to gaze and wonder, When frae Parnassus thou didst thunder, Wi’ Wit and Skill, Wherefore I’ll soberly knock under, And quat my Quill. Of Poetry the hail Quintessence Thou has suck’d up, left nae Excrescence To petty Poets, or sic Messens, Tho round thy Stool, They may pick Crumbs, and lear some Lessons At Ramsay’s School. Tho Ben and Dryden of Renown148 Were yet alive in London Town, Like Kings contending for a Crown; ’Twad be a Pingle, Whilk o’ you three wad gar Words sound And best to gingle. Transform’d may I be to a Rat, Wer’t in my Pow’r but I’d create Thee upo’ sight the Laureat149 Of this our Age, Since thou may’st fairly claim to that

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4. Tamtallan ] An old Fortification upon the Firth of Forth in East Lothian. 13. Tho Ben. ] Tho celebrated Ben Johnston. 19. The Laureat ] Scots Ramsay press’d hard, and sturdily vaunted, He’d fight for the Laurel before he would want it; But risit Apollo, and cry’d, Peace there old Stile, Your Wit is obscure to one half of the Isle. B. Sess. of Poets.

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Poems As thy just Wage. Let modern Poets bear the Blame Gin they respect not Ramsay’s Name, Wha soon can gar them greet for Shame, To their great Loss; And send them a’ right sneaking hame Be Weeping-Cross. Wha bourds wi’ thee had need be warry, And lear wi’ Skill thy Thrust to parry, When thou consults thy Dictionary Of ancient Words, Which come from thy Poetick Quarry, As sharp as Swords.

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Now tho I should baith reel and rottle, And be as light as Aristotle, 30 At Ed’nurgh we sall ha’e a Bottle Of reaming Claret, Gin that my haff-pay Siller Shottle150 Can safely spare it. At Crambo then we’ll rack our Brain, Drown ilk dull Care and aiking Pain, Whilk aften does our Spirits drain Of true Content; Wow, Wow! but we’s be wonder fain, When thus acquaint.

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Wi’ Wine we’ll gargarize our Craig, Then enter in a lasting League, Free of Ill Aspect or Intrigue, And gin you please it, Like Princes when met at the Hague, 40 We’ll solemnize it. Accept of this and look upon it With Favour, tho poor I have done it Sae I conclude and end my Sonnet, Who am most fully, While I do wear a Hat or Bonnet, Yours—wanton Willy.

32. Haff Pay ] He held his Commission honourable in my Lord Hyndford’s Regiment. And may the Stars wha shine aboon With Honour notice real Merit, Be to my Friend auspicious soon, And cherish ay sae fine a Spirit.

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Familiar Epistles P O S T S C R I P T. 45 By this my Postscript I incline To let you ken my hail Design Of sic a lang imperfect Line, Lyes in this Sentence, To cultivate my dull Ingine By your Acquaintance. Your answer therefore I expect, And to your Friend you may direct, 50 At Gilbertfield do not neglect151 When ye have Leisure, Which I’ll embrace with great Respect And perfect Pleasure.

A N S W E R I.

Edinburgh, July 10th, 1719. Sonse fa me, witty, wanton Willy, Gin blyth I was na as a Filly; Not a fow Pint, nor short Hought Gilly, Or Wine that’s better, Cou’d please sae meikle, my dear Billy, As thy kind Letter, Before a Lord and eik a Knight, In Gossy Don’s be Candle Light, There first I saw’t, and ca’d it right, And the maist feck Wha’s seen’t sinsyne, they ca’d as tight As that on Heck. Ha, heh! thought I, I canna say But I may cock my Nose the Day, When Hamilton the bauld and gay Lends me a Heezy, In Verse that slides sae smooth away, Well tell’d and easy.

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Sae roos’d by ane of well kend Mettle, Nae sma did my Ambition pettle My canker’d Criticks it will nettle, 15 And e’en sae be’t: This Month I’m sure I winna settle, Sae proud I’m wi’t. 51. Gilbertfield ] Nigh Glasgow.

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Poems When I begoud first to cun Verse, And cou’d your Ardry Whins rehearse,152 Where Bonny Heck ran fast and fierce, It warm’d my Breast; Then Emulation did me pierce, 20 Whilk since ne’er ceast. May I be licket wi’ a Bittle, Gin of your Numbers I think little; Ye’re never rugget, shan, nor kittle, But blyth and gabby, And hit the Spirit to a Title, Of Standart Habby.153 Ye’ll quat your Quill! That were ill-willy, 25 Ye’s sing some mair yet, nill ye will ye, O’er meikle Haining wad but spill ye, And gar ye sour, Then up and war them a’ yet, Willy, ’Tis in your Power. To knit up Dollers in a Clout, And then to eard them round about, Syne to tell up, they downa lout To lift the Gear; The Malison lights on that Rout, Is plain and clear.

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The Chiels of London, Cam, and Ox, Ha’e rais’d up great Poetick Stocks Of Rapes, of Buckets, Sarks and Locks, 35 While we neglect To shaw their betters. This provokes Me to reflect On the Iear’d Days of Gawn Dunkell,154 Our Country then a Tale cou’d tell, Europe had nane mair snack and snell At Verse or Prose; Our Kings were Poets too themsell,155 40 Bauld and Jocose. To Ed’nburgh, Sir, when e’er ye come, 18. Ardry Whins ] The last Words of Bonny Heck, of which he was Author. 24. Standart Habby ] The Elegy on Habby Simpson Piper of Kilbarchan, a finish’d Piece of its Kind. 36. Gawn Dunkell ] Gawn Douglass Brother to the Earl of Angus Bishop of Dunkell, who besides several original Poems, hath left a most exact Translation of Virgil’s Æneis. 40. Our Kings ] James the First and Fifth.

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Familiar Epistles I’ll wait upon ye, there’s my Thumb, Were’t frae the Gill-bells to the Drum,156 And take a Bout, And faith I hope we’ll no sit dumb, Nor yet cast out.

E P I S T L E II.

Gilbertfield, July 24th, 1719. Dear Ramsay, When I receiv’d thy kind Epistle, It made me dance, and sing, and whistle; O sic a Fyke, and sic a Fistle I had about it! That e’er was Knight of the Scots Thistle,157 Sae fain, I doubted. The bonny Lines therein thou sent me, 5 How to the Nines they did content me; Tho’, Sir, sae high to compliment me, Ye might defer’d, For had ye but haff well a kent me, Some less wad ser’d. With joyfou Heart beyond Expression, They’re safely now in my Possession: 10 O gin I were a Winter-Session Near by thy Lodging, I’d closs attend thy new Profession, Without e’er budging. In even down earnest, there’s but few To vie with Ramsay dare avow, In Verse, for to gi’e thee thy due, 15 And without fleetching, Thou’s better at that Trade, I trow, Than some’s at preaching.158 43. Frae the Gill-Bells ] From Half an Hour before Twelve at Noon, when the Musick Bells begin to play, frequently called the Gill-Bells, from Peoples taking a wheting Dram at that Time. To the Drum, Ten a Clock at Night, when the Drum goes round to warn sober Folks to call for a Bill. 4. Knight of the Scots Thistle ] The antient and most noble Order of Knighthood, erected by King Achaius. The ordinary English worn by the Knights of the Order, was a green Ribband, to which was appended a Thistle of Gold crown’d with an imperial Crown, within a circle of Gold, with this Motto, Nemo me impune lacesset. 16. Than some’s at Preaching ] This Compliment is intirely free of the fulsome Hyperbole.

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Poems For my Part, till I’m better leart, To troke with thee I’d best forbear’t; For an’ the Fouk of Edn’burgh hear’t, They’ll ca’ me daft, I’m unco’ irie and Dirt-feart 20 I make wrang Waft. Thy Verses nice as ever nicket, Made me as canty as a Cricket; I ergh to reply, lest I stick it, Syne like a Coof I look, or ane whose Poutch is picket As bare’s my Loof. Heh winsom! How thy saft sweet Stile, And bonny auld Words gar me smile; Thou’s travel’d sure mony a Mile Wi’ Charge and Cost, To learn them thus keep Rank and File, And ken their Post.

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For I maun tell thee, honest Allie, I use the Freedom so to call thee, 30 I think them a’ sae bra and walie, And in sic Order, I wad nae care to be thy Vallie, Or thy Recorder. Has thou with Rosycrucians wandert? 159 Or thro’ some doncie Desart danert? That with thy Magick, Town and Landart, 35 For ought I see, Maun a’ come truckle to thy Standart Of Poetrie. Do not mistake me, dearest Heart, As if I charg’d thee with black Art; ’Tis thy good Genius still alart, That does inspire Thee with ilk Thing that’s quick and smart, To thy Desire.

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E’en mony a bonny knacky Tale, Bra to set o’er a Pint of Ale: For Fifty Guineas I’ll find Bail, Against a Bodle, That I wad quat ilk Day a Mail, 33. Rosycrucians ] A People deeply learn’d in the occult Sciences, who convers’d with aerial Beings. Gentlemanny Kind of Necromancers, or so.

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Familiar Epistles For sic a Nodle. 45 And on Condition I were as gabby, As either thee, or honest Habby, That I lin’d a’ thy Claes wi’ Tabby, Or Velvet Plush, And then thou’d be sae far frae shabby, Thou’d look right sprush. What tho young empty airy Sparks May have their critical Remarks 50 On thir my blyth diverting Warks; ’Tis sma Presumption To say they’re but unlearned Clarks, And want the Gumption. Let Coxcomb Criticks get a Tether To ty up a’ their lang loose Lether; If they and I chance to forgether, 55 The tane may rue it, For an’ they winna had their Blether, They’s get a Flewet. To learn them for to peep and pry In secret Drolls ’twixt thee and I; Pray dip thy Pen in Wrath, and cry, And ca’ them Skellums, I’m sure thou needs set little by 60 To bide their Bellums. Wi’ Writing I’m so bleirt and doited, That when I raise, in Troth I stoited; I thought I shou’d turn capernoited, For wi’ a Gird, Upon my Bum I fairly cloited On the cald Eard. Which did oblige a little Dumple 65 Upon my Doup, close by my Rumple: But had ye seen how I did trumple, Ye’d split your Side, Wi’ mony a long and weary Wimple, Like Trough of Clyde.

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Poems

A N S W E R II.

Edinburgh, August 4th, 1719. Dear Hamilton ye’ll turn me Dyver, My Muse sae bonny ye descrive her, Ye blaw her sae, I’m fear’d ye rive her, For wi’ a Whid, Gin ony higher up ye drive her, She’ll rin red-wood.160 Said I, — “Whisht, quoth the vougy Jade, “William’s a wise judicious Lad, “Has Havins mair than e’er ye had, “Ill bred Bog-staker;161 “But me ye ne’er sae crouse had craw’d, “Ye poor Scull-thacker.

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“It sets you well indeed to gadge! “E’er I t’ Appollo did ye cadge,162 10 “And got ye on his Honour’s Badge, “Ungratefou Beast, “A Glasgow Capon and a Fadge163 “Ye thought a Feast. “Swith to Castalius’ Fountain-Brink, “Dad down a Grouf, and take a Drink,164 “Syne whisk out Paper, Pen and Ink, 15 And do my Bidding; “Be thankfou, else I’se gar ye stink Yet on a Midding. My Mistress dear, your Servant humble, Said I, I shou’d be laith to drumble Your Passions, or e’er gar ye grumble, ’Tis ne’er be me Shall scandalize, or say ye bummil 20 Ye’r Poetrie. 4. Rin Red-wood ] Run distracted. 7. Illbred Bogstaker, but me, &c. ] The Muse not unreasonably angry, puts me here in Mind of the Favours she has done, by bringing me from stalking over Bogs or wild Marishes, to lift my Head a little Brisker among the polite World, which could never been acquired by the low Movements of a Mechanick. Scul-thacker, i. e. Thatcher of Sculs. 9. It sets ye well indeed to gadge ] Ironically she says, It becomes me mighty well to talk haughtily and affront my Benefactoress, by alledging so meanly that it were possible to praise her out of her Solidity. 12. A Glasgow Capon, &c. A Herring. A Fadge. A course kind of leaven’d Bread, used by the common People. 14. Dad down a Grouf ] Fall flat on your Belly.

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Familiar Epistles Frae what I’ve tell’d, my Friend may learn How sadly I ha’e been forfairn, I’d better been a yont Side Kairn- 165 amount, I trow; I’ve kiss’d the Taz like a good Bairn, 166 Now, Sir to you. Heal be your Heart, gay couthy Carle, 25 Lang may ye help to toom a Barrel; Be thy Crown ay unclowr’d in Quarrel, When thou inclines To knoit thrawn gabbed Sumphs that snarl At our frank Lines. Ilk good Chiel says, Ye’re well worth Gowd, And Blythness on ye’s well bestow’d, 30 ’Mang witty Scots ye’r Name’s be row’d, Ne’er Fame to tine; The crooked Clinkers shall be cow’d,167 But ye shall shine. Set out the burnt Side of your Shin,168 For Pride in Poets is nae Sin, Glory’s the Prize for which they rin, 35 And Fame’s their Jo; And wha blaws best the Horn shall win: And wharefore no? Quisquis vocabit nos Vain-glorious, Shaw scanter Skill, than malos mores, Multi & magni Men before us Did stamp and swagger. Probatum est, exemplum Horace, 40 Was a bauld Bragger. Then let the Doofarts fash’d wi’ Spleen, Cast up the wrang Side of their Een, Pegh, fry and girn wi’ Spite and Teen, And fa a flyting, Laugh, for the lively Lads will screen Us frae Back-biting. If that the Gypsies dinna spung us, 45 23. Karn-amount ] A noted Hill in the North of Scotland. 24. I’ve kiss’d the Taz ] Kiss’d the Rod. Own’d my Fault like a good Child. 32. The crooked Clinkers, &c. ] The scribbling Rhimers, with their lame Versification. Shall be cow’d, i.e. shorn off. 33. Set out the burnt Side of your Skin ] As if one would say, Walk stately with your Toes out. An Expression used when we wou’d bid a Person (merrily) look brisk.

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Poems And foreign Whiskers ha’e na dung us; Gin I can snifter thro’ Mundungus, Wi’ Boots and Belt on, I hope to see you at St. Mungo’s169 Atween and Beltan.

E P I S T L E III.

Gilbertfield, August 24th, 1719. Accept my third and last Essay Of rural Rhyme, I humbly pray, Bright Ramsay, and altho it may

Seem doilt and donsie, Yet thrice of all Things, I heard say, Was ay thought sonsie, Wherefore I scarce cou’d sleep or slumber, 5 Till I made up that happy Number, The Pleasure counterpois’d the Cumber, In ev’ry Part, And snoov’t away like three Hand Omber, 170 Sixpence a Cart. Of thy last Poem, bearing Date August the Fourth, I grant Receipt; 10 It was sae bra, gart me look blate, ’Maist tyne my Senses, And look just like poor Country Kate171 In Lucky Spence’s. I shaw’d it to our Parish Priest, Wha was as blyth as gi’m a Feast; He says, Thou may had up thy Creest, And craw fu’ crouse, The Poets a’ to thee’s but Jest, Not worth a Souce.

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Thy blyth and cheerfu’ merry Muse, Of Compliments is sae profuse; For my good Haivens dis me roose Sae very finely It were ill Breeding to refuse 20 To thank her kindly. 48. St. Mungo’s ] The high Church of Glasgow. 8. Snoov’t away ] Whirl’d smoothly around. Snooving always expresses the Action of a Top or Spindle, &c. 12. Country Kate ] Vide Lucky Spence Elegy, Line 51.

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Familiar Epistles What tho sometimes in angry Mood, When she-puts on her Barlick-hood, Her Dialect seem rough and rude; Let’s ne’er be flee’t, But take our Bit when it is good, And Buffet wi’t. For gin we ettle anes to taunt her, And dinna cawmly thole her Banter, She’ll take the Flings; Verse may grow scanter, 172 Syne wi’ great Shame We’ll rue the Day that we do want her, Then wha’s to blame?

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But let us still her Kindness culzie, And wi’ her never breed a Toulzie, 30 For we’ll bring aff but little Spulzie In sic a Barter; And she’ll be fair to gar us fulzie, And cry for Quarter. Sae little worth’s my rhyming Ware, My Pack I scarce dare apen mair, Till I take better wi’ the Lair, 35 My Pen’s sae blunted; 173 And a’ for Fear I file the Fair, And be affronted. The dull Draff-drink makes me sae dowff, 174 A’ I can do’s but bark and yowff; Yet set me in a Claret Howff, Wi’ Fowk that’s chancy, My Muse may len me then a Gowff To clear my Fancy.

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Then Bacchus like I’d bawl and bluster, And a’ the Muses ’bout me muster; Sae merrily I’d squeeze the Cluster, And drink the Grape, ’Twad gi my Verse a brighter Lustre, And better Shape. The Pow’rs aboon be still auspicious To thy Achievements maist delicious, Thy Poems sweet and nae Way vicious,

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27. She’ll take the Flings ] Turn sullen, restive, and kick. 36. For Fear I file the Fair ] This Phrase is used when one attempts to do what’s handsome, and is affronted by not doing it right,— not a reasonable Fear in him. 37. Dull Draff-drink ] Heavy Malt Liquor.

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Poems But blyth and kanny; To see, I’m anxious and ambitious, Thy Miscellany. A’ Blessings, Ramsay, on thee row,175 Lang may thou live, and thrive, and dow, 50 Until thou claw an auld Man’s Pow; And thro’ thy Creed, Be keeped frae the Wirricow After thou’s dead.

A N S W E R III.

Edinburgh, September 2d, 1719. My Trusty Trojan, Thy last Oration orthodox, Thy innocent auldfarren Jokes, And sonsie Saw of Three provokes Me anes again, Tod Lowrie like, to loose my Pocks,176 And pump my Brain. By a’ your Letters I ha’e red, 5 I eithly scan the Man well bred, And Soger that where Honour led, Has ventur’d bauld; Wha now to Youngsters leaves the Yed177 To ’tend his Fald. That Bang’ster Billy Cæsar July, Wha at Pharsalia wan the Tooly, 10 Had better sped, had he mair hooly Scamper’d thro’ Life, And ’midst his Glories sheath’d his Gooly, And kiss’d his Wife. Had he like you, as well he cou’d, 178 Upon Burn Banks the Muses woo’d, Retir’d betimes frae ’mang the Crowd, Wha’d been aboon him? The Senate’s Durks, and Faction loud, Had ne’er undone him.

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49. A Blessings, &c. ] All this Verse is a succinct Cluster of kind Wishes, elegantly expres’d, with a friendly Spirit, to which I take the Liberty to add Amen. 4. Tod Lowrie like ] Like Rynard the Fox, to betake my self to some more of my Wiles. 8. Leaves the Yed to tend his Fald ] Leaves the Martial Contention, and retires to a Country Life. 13. As well he cou’d ] ’Tis well known he could write as well as fight.

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Familiar Epistles Yet sometimes leave the Riggs and Bog, Your Howms, and Braes, and shady Scrag, And helm-a-lee the Claret cog, To clear your Wit: Be blyth, and let the Warld e’en shog, 20 As it thinks fit. Ne’er fash about your neist Year’s State, Nor with superior Powers debate, Nor Cantrapes cast to ken your Fate; There’s Ills anew To cram our Days, which soon grow late; Let’s live just now. When Northern Blasts the Ocean snurl, 25 And gars the Heights and Hows look gurl, Then left about the Bumper whirl, And toom the Horn,179 Grip fast the Hours which hasty hurl, The Morn’s the Morn. Thus to Leuconoe sang sweet Flaccus,180 Wha nane e’er thought a Gillygacus: 30 And why should we let Whimsies bawk us, When Joy’s in Season, And thole sae aft the Spleen to whauk us Out of our Reason? Tho I were Laird of Tenscore Acres, Nodding to Jouks of Hallenshakers, 181 Yet crush’d wi’ Humdrums, which the Weaker’s 35 Contentment ruines, I’d rather roost wi’ Causey-Rakers, And sup cauld Sowens. I think, my Friend, an Fowk can get A Doll of rost Beef pypin het, And wi’ red Wine their Wyson wet, And Cleathing clean, And be nae sick, or drown’d in Debt, They’re no to mean. I red this Verse to my ain Kimmer,

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27. Toom the Horn ] ’Tis frequent in the Country to drink Beer out of Horn Cups, made in Shape of Water Glass. 29. Thus to Leuconoe ] Vide Book I. ii. Ode of Horace. 34. Hallenshakers ] A Hallen is a Fence (built of Stone, Turf, or a moveable Flake of Heather) at the Sides of the Door in Country Places, to defend them from the Wind. The trembling Attendant about a forgetfull great Man’s Gate or Levee, is all express’d in the Term Hallenshaker.

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Poems Wha kens I like a Leg of Gimmer, Or sic and sic good Belly Timmer;

Quoth she, and leugh, “Sicker of thae Winter and Simmer, “Ye’re well enough. My hearty Goss, there is nae Help, 45 But Hand to Nive we twa maun skelp Up Rhine and Thames, and o’er the Alppines and Pyrenians, The chearfou Carles do sae yelp To ha’e ’s their Minions.

Thy raffan rural Rhyme sae rare, Sic wordy, wanton, hand-wail’d Ware, 50 Sae gash and gay, gars Fowk gae gare182 To ha’e them by them; Tho gaffin they wi’ Sides sae sair,183 Cry, “Wae gae by him! Fair fa that Sodger did invent To ease the Poets Toil wi’ Print: Now, William, wi’ maun to the Bent, And pouss our Fortune, And crack wi’ Lads wha’re well content Wi’ this our Sporting.

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Gin ony sour-mou’d girning Bucky Ca’ me conceity keckling Chucky, That we like Nags whase Necks are yucky, Ha’e us’d our Teeth; I’ll answer fine, — Gae kiss ye’r Lucky184 60 She dwells i’ Leith. I ne’er wi’ lang Tales fash my Head, But when I speak, I speak indeed: Wha ca’s me droll, but ony Feed, I’ll own I am sae, And while my Champers can chew Bread, Yours—Allan Ramsay. 51. Gars Fowk gae gare ] Make People very earnest. 52. Wi’ Sides sae fair, Cry, “Wae gae by him! ’Tis usual for many, after a full Laugh, to complain of sore Sides, and to bestow a kindly Curse on the Author of the Jest. But the Folks of more tender Consciences have turned their Expletives to friendly Wishes, such as this; or, Sonse fa’ ye, and the like. 60. Gae kiss ye’r Lucky, &c. ] Is a cant Phrase, from what Rise I know not; but ’tis made use of when one thinks it not worth while to give a direct Answer, or think themselves foolishly accused.

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An Epistle to Lieutenant Hamilton an

EPISTLE

To Lieutenant Hamilton On the receiving the Compliment of a Barrel of Loch-Fine Herrings from him. Your Herrings, Sir, came hale and feer,185 In healsome Brine a’ soumin, Fu’ fat they are and gusty Gear, As e’er I laid my Thumb on: Bra sappy Fish 5 As an cou’d wish To clap on Fadge or Scon; They relish fine Good Claret Wine, That gars our Cares stand yon. 10 Right mony Gabs wi’ them shall gang About Auld Reeky’s Ingle, When kedgy Carles think nae lang, Where Stoups and Trunchers gingle; Then my Friend leal, 15 We toss ye’r Heal, And with bald Brag advance, What’s hoorded in Lochs Broom and Fine186 Might ding the Stocks of France. 20 A jelly Sum to carry on A Fishery’s design’d,187 Twa Million good of Sterling Pounds, By Men of Money’s sign’d. Had ye but seen 25 How unco’ keen And thrang they were about it, That we are bald, Right rich and aldFarran ye ne’r wad doubted. 30 Now, now I hope we’ll ding the Dutch, As fine as a round Robin, Gin Greediness to grow soon rich 1. Hale and seer ] Whole, without the least Fault or Want. 19. Broom and Fine ] Two Lochs on the Western Seas, where Plenty of Herrings are tane. 19. A Fishery ] The Royal Fishery; Success to which is the Wish and Hope of every good Man.

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Poems Invites not to Stock-jobbing: That poor boss Shade 35 Of sinking Trade, And Weather-Glass Politick, Which heaves and sets, As Publick gets A Heezy, or a wee Kick. 40 Fy, fy! But yet I hope ’tis daft To fear that Trick come hither, Na, we’re aboon that dirty Craft Of biting an anither. The Subject rich 45 Will gi’ a Hitch T’ increase the publick Gear, When on our Seas, Like bisy Bees, Ten thousand Fishers steer. 50 Could we catch the united Shoals That crowd the Western Ocean, The India’s wad prove hungry Holes, Compare’d to this our Goshen: Then let’s to wark 55 With Net and Bark, Them fish and faithfu’ cure up; Gin sae we join, We’ll cleek in Coin Frae a’ the Ports of Europe. 60 Thanks t’ye Captain for this Swatch Of our Store, and your Favour; Gin I be spar’d, your Love to match Shall still be my Endeavour. Next unto you, 65 My Service due Please gi’e to Matthew Cumin,188 Wha with fair Heart Has play’d his Part, And sent them true and trim in. 70

67. M. C. ] Merchant in Glasgow, and one of the late Magistrates of that City.

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Patie and Roger

PATIE and ROGER: A

P A S T O R A L Inscrib’d to JOSIAH BURCHET, Esq; Secretary of the Admiralty. The nipping Frosts and driving Sna Are o’er the Hills and far awa; Bauld Boreas sleeps, the Zephyres blaw, And ilka Thing Sae dainty, youthfou, gay and bra’ Invites to sing. Then let’s begin by creek of Day, Kind Muse skiff to the Bent away, To try anes mair the Landart Lay, With a’ thy Speed, Since Burchet awns that thou can play Upon the Reed.

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Anes, anes again beneath some Tree Exert thy Skill and nat’ral Glee, 10 To him wha has sae courteously,189 To weaker Sight, Set these rude Sonnets sung by me In truest Light. In truest Light may a’ that’s fine In his fair Character still shine, Sma’ need he has of Sangs like mine, 15 To beet his Name; For frae the North to Southern Line, Wide gangs his Fame. His Fame, which ever shall abide, While Hist’ries tell of Tyrants Pride, Wha vainly strave upon the Tide T’ invade these Lands, Where Briton’s Royal Fleet doth ride, Which still commands.

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These doughty Actions frae his Pen,190 Our Age, and these to come, shall ken, 11. To weaker Sight, set these, &c. ] Having done me the Honour of turning some of my pastoral Poems into English justly and elegantly. 21. Frae his Pen ] His valuable naval History.

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Poems How stubborn Navies did contend Upon the Waves, How free-born Britons faught like Men, Their Faes like Slaves. Sae far inscribing, Sir, to you, 25 This Country Sang my Fancy flew, Keen your just Merit to pursue; But ah! I fear, In giving Praises that are due, I grate your Ear. Yet tent a Poet’s zealous Pray’r; May Powers aboon with kindly Care, Grant you a lang and muckle Skair Of a’ that’s Good; Till unto langest Life and mair You’ve healthfu’ stood. May never Care your Blessings sowr, And may the Muses ilka Hour Improve your Mind, and Haunt your Bower: I’m but a Callan: Yet may I please you; while I’m your Devoted Allan.

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Patie and Roger. Beneath the South-side of a Craigy Bield, Where a clear Spring did healsome Water yield, Twa youthfou Shepherds on the Gowans lay, Tenting their Flocks ae bonny Morn of May: Poor Roger gran’d till hollow Echoes rang,191 5 While merry Patie humm’d himsel a Sang:192 Then turning to his Friend in blythsome Mood, Quoth he, How does this Sunshine chear my Blood? How heartsome is’t to see the rising Plants? To hear the Birds chirm o’er their Morning Rants? 10 How tosie is’t to snuff the cauller Air, And a’ the Sweets it bears, when void of Care? What ails thee, Roger, then? What gars thee grane? Tell me the Cause of thy ill season’d Pain. R O G E R. I’m born, O Patie, to a thrawart Fate! 15 I’m born to strive with Hardships dire and great; 5. Poor Roger ] Yet the richest Shepherd in his Stores, but disconsolate, whom 6. Merry Patie ] A cheerful Shepherd of less Wealth endeavours to comfort.

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Patie and Roger Tempests may cease to jaw the rowan Flood, Corbies and Tods to grein for Lambkins Blood: But I opprest with never ending Grief, Maun ay despair of lighting on Relief.

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P A T I E. The Bees shall loath the Flower and quite the Hive, The Saughs on boggy Ground shall cease to thrive, E’er scornfou Queans, or Loss of warldly Gear, Shall spill my Rest, or ever force a Tear. R O G E R. Sae might I say, but it’s nae easy done By ane wha’s Saul is sadly out o’ Tune: You have sae saft a Voice and slid a Tongue, You are the Darling of baith auld and young. If I but ettle at a Sang, or speak, They dit their Lugs, syn up their Leglens cleek, And jeer me hameward frae the Loan or Bught, While I’m confus’d with mony a vexing Thought: Yet I am tall, and as well shap’d as thee, Nor mair unlikely to a Lasse’s Eye: For ilka Sheep ye have I’ll number ten, And should, as ane might think, come farrer ben. P A T I E. But ablins, Nibour, ye have not a Heart, Nor downa eithly wi’ your Cunzie part: If that be true, what signifies your Gear? And mind that’s scrimpit never wants some Care.

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R O G E R. My Byar tumbled, Nine braw Nowt were smoor’d, Three Elf-shot were, yet I these Ills endur’d.193 In Winter last my Cares were very sma, Tho Scores of Wedders perish’d in the Sna. P A T I E. Were your bien Rooms as thinly stock’d as mine, Less you wad loss, and less you wad repine: He wha has just enough can soundly sleep, The O’ercome only fashes Fowk to keep.

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R O G E R. May Plenty flow upon thee for a Cross, 42. Elf-shot ] Bewitch’d, shot by Fairies, Country People tell odd Tales of this Distemper amongst Cows. When Elf-shot, the Cow falls down suddenly dead, no part of the Skin is pierced, but often a little triangular flat Stone is found near the Beast, as they report, which is call’d the Elf’s Arrow.

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Poems That thou may’st thole the Pangs of frequent Loss; O may’st thou dote on some fair paughty Wench, Wha ne’er will lout thy lowan Drouth to quench, Till, birss’d beneath the Burden, thou cry Dool, And awn that ane may fret that is nae Fool. P A T I E. Sax good fat Lambs, I sald them ilka Cloot At the West-Port, and bought a winsome Flute,194 Of Plumb-tree made, with Iv’ry Virles round, A dainty Whistle wi’ a pleasant Sound; I’ll be mair canty wi’t, and ne’er cry Dool, Than you with a your Gear, ye dowie Fool.

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R O G E R. Na, Patie, na, I’m nae sic churlish Beast, Some ither Things ly heavier at my Breast; I dream’d a dreery Dream this hinder Night, That gars my Flesh a’ creep yet wi’ the Fright.195 P A T I E. Now to your Friend how silly’s this Pretence, To ane wha you and a’ your Secrets kens: Daft are your Dreams, as daftly wad ye hide Your well-seen Love, and dorty Jenny’s Pride. Take Courage, Roger, me your Sorrows tell, And safely think nane kens them but your sell. R O G E R. O Patie, ye have ghest indeed o’er true, And there is naething I’ll keep up frae you;196 Me dorty Jenny looks upon asquint, To speak but till her I dare hardly mint; In ilka Place she jeers me air and late, And gars me look bumbas’d and unco blate, But Yesterday I met her yont a Know, She fled as frae a Shellycoat or Kow;197 She Bauldy loo’s, Bauldy that drives the Car, But gecks at me, and says I smell o’ Tar.

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P A T I E. But Bauldy loo’s nae her right well I wat, 56. West-Port ] The Sheep Market Place of Edinburgh. 64. Flesh a’ creep ] A Phrase which expresses Shuddering. 72. Keep up ] Hide or retain. 78. Shellycoat ] One of those frightful Spectres the ignorant People are terrified at, and tell us strange Stories of; that they are clothed with a Coat of Shells, which make a horrid rattling, that they’ll be sure to destroy one, if he gets not a running Water between him and it; it dares not meddle with a Woman with Child, &c.

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Patie and Roger He sighs for Neps; — Sae that may stand for that. R O G E R. I wish I cou’d na loo her, — but in vain, I still maun dote and thole her proud Disdain. My Bauty is a Cur I dearly like, Till he youl’d fair, she strake the poor dumb Tyke: If I had fill’d a Nook within her Breast, She wad ha’e shawn mair Kindness to my Beast. When I begin to tune my Stock and Horn,198 With a’ her Face she shaws a cauldrife Scorn: Last Time I play’d, ye never saw sic Spite, O’er Bogie was the Spring, and her Delyte, Yet tauntingly she at her Nibour speer’d Gin she cou’d tell what Tune I play’d, and sneer’d. Flocks wander where ye like, I dinna care; I’ll break my Reed, and never whistle mair. P A T I E. E’en do sae, Roger, wha can help Misluck, Saebeins she be sic a thrawn-gabet Chuck; Yonder’s a Craig, since ye have tint a’ Hope, Gae till’t ye’r ways, and take the Lover’s Loup.

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R O G E R. I need na make sic Speed my Blood to spill, I’ll warrand Death come soon enough a will. P A T I E. Daft Gowk! Leave aff that silly whindging Way, Seem careless, there’s my Hand ye’ll win the Day. Last Morning I was unco airly out, 105 Upon a Dyke I lean’d and glowr’d about; I saw my Meg come linkan o’er the Lee, I saw my Meg, but Maggie saw na me: For yet the Sun was wading throw the Mist, And she was closs upon me e’er she wist. 110 Her Coats were kiltit, and did sweetly shaw Her straight bare Legs, which whiter were than Snaw: Her Cokernony snooded up fou sleek, Her haffet Locks hung waving on her Cheek: Her Cheek sae ruddy! and her Een sae clear! 115 And O! her Mouth’s like ony hinny Pear. Neat, neat she was in Bustine Wastecoat clean, As she came skiffing o’er the dewy Green: Blythsome I cry’d, My bonny Meg come here, I fairly wherefore ye’er sae soon a steer:199 120 89. Stock and Horn ] A Reed or Whistle, with a Horn fix’d to it by the smaller End. 120. Soon a Steer ] Soon stirring, or up.

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Poems But now I guess ye’er gawn to gather Dew. She scour’d awa, and said what’s that to you? Then fare ye well, Meg Dorts, and e’en’s ye like, I careless cry’d, and lap in o’er the Dyke. I trow, when that she saw, within a crack With a right thieveles Errand she came back; Miscau’d me first, — then bade me hound my Dog To weer up three waff Ews were on the Bog. I leugh, and sae did she, then wi’ great Haste I clasp’d my Arms about her Neck and Waste; About her yielding Waste, and took a fouth Of sweetest Kisses frae her glowan Mouth: While hard and fast I held her in my Grips, My very Saul came louping to my Lips. Sair, sair she flete wi’ me ’tween ilka Smak, But well I kend she mean’d na as she spak. Dear Roger, when your Jo puts on her Gloom, Do ye sae too, and never fash your Thumb:200 Seem to forsake her, soon she’ll change her Mood; Gae woo anither, and she’ll gang clean wood. R O G E R. Kind Patie, now fair faw your honest Heart, Ye’r ay sae kedgie, and ha’e sick an Art To hearten ane: — For now as clean’s a Leek201 Ye’ve cherisht me since ye began to speak: Sae for your Pains I’ll make you a Propine, My Mither, honest Wife, has made it fine; A Tartan Plaid, spun of good hauslock Woo,202 Scarlet and green the Sets, the Borders Blue, With Spraings like Gou’d and Siller, cross’d wi’ black, I never had it yet upon my Back. Well are ye wordy o’t, wha ha’e sae kind Redd up my ravel’d Doubts, and clear’d my Mind.203 P A T I E. Well, hadd ye there, — and since ye’ve frankly made A Present to me of your bra new Plaid, My Flute’s be yours, and she too that’s sae nice, Shall come a Will, if you’ll take my Advice.204

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138. Never fash your Thumb ] Be not the least vex’d, be easy. 143. Clean’s a Leek ] Perfectly claver and right. 147. Hauslock Woo ] A fine Wool which is pull’d off the Necks of Sheep Before the Knife be put in, this being so much gain’d without spoiling the Sale of the Skin, is gather’d for such an Use. 152. Red up ] Is a Metaphorical Phrase from the putting in Order, or winding up Yarn that has been ravel’d. 156. Come a Will ] Come willingly, of her own Accord, without Constraint.

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Patie and Roger R O G E R. As ye advise, I’ll promise to observ’t, But ye maun keep the Flute, ye best deserv’t; Now take it out, and gi’es a bonny Spring, For I’m in tift to hear you play or sing. P A T I E. But first we’ll take a Turn up to the Hight, And see gin a’ our Flocks be feeding right: Be that Time Bannocks and a Shave of Cheese Will make a Breakfast that a Laird might please; Might please our Laird, gin he were but sae wise To season Meat wi’ Health instead of Spice: When we ha’e ta’en the Grace-Drink at this Well,205 I’ll whistle fine, and sing t’ye like my sell.

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EDINBURGH’s SALUTATION To the Most Honourable, My Lord Marquess of CARNARVON.206 Welcome, my Lord, Heav’n be your Guide, And furder your Intention, To what e’er Place you sail or ride, To brighten your Invention. The Book of Mankind lang and wide 5 Is well worth your Attention: Wherefore please some Time here abide, And measure the Dimension Of Minds right stout. O that ilk worthy British Peer Wad follow your Example, 10 My auld Gray-Head I yet wad rear, And spread my Skirts mair ample.

167. The Grace Drink ] The King’s Health, begun first bv the religious Margaret Queen of Scots, known by the Name of St. Margaret. The Piety of her Design was to oblige the Courtiers not to rise from Table till the Thanksgiving Grace was said, well judging, that tho some Folks have little Regard for Religion, yet they will be mannerly to their Prince. Marquess of Carnarvon ] Eldest Son to his Grace the Duke of Chandois, who in May 1720 was at Edinburgh in his Tour through Scotland.

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Poems Shou’d London poutch up a’ the Gear?207 She might spare me a Sample: In trouth his Highness shou’d live here; For without Oyl our Lamp will Gang blinkan out. Lang syne, my Lord, I had a Court, And Nobles fill’d my Cawsy; But since I have been Fortune’s Sport, I look nae haff sae gawsy. Yet here brave Gentlemen resort, And mony a handsome Lassy: Now that you’re lodg’d within my Port, Fow well I wat they’ll a’ say, Welcome, my Lord.

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For you my best Chear I’ll produce, 25 I’ll no make muckle vaunting; But routh for Pleasure and for Use, Whatever you be wanting, You’s have at Will to chap and chuse; For few Things am I scant in; 30 The Wale of well-set Ruby Juice,208 When you like to be rantin, I can afford. Than I, nor Paris, nor Madrid, Nor Rome, I trow’s mair able To busk you up a better Bed, 35 Or trim a tighter Table. My Sons are honourably bred, To Truth and Friendship stable: What my detracting Faes have said,209 You’ll find a feigned Fable, 40 At the first Sight. May Classic Lear and Letters Belle, And Travelling conspire, Ilk unjust Notion to repell, And God-like Thoughts inspire; That in ilk Action wise and snell 45 You may shaw Manly Fire: 13. Shou’d London ] Edinburgh too justly complains that the North of Britain is so remote from the Court, and so rarely enjoys the Influence of British Stars of the first Magnitude. 31. The Wale of well-set, &c. ] The most choice of fine clear Claret. 38. What my detracting Faes ] These who from a malicious low Prejudice (only the Scum indeed of our Neighbours) have falsly reproached us with being rude, unhospitable and false.

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Edinburgh's Salutation Sae the fair Picture of himsell, Will give his Grace your Sire Immense Delight.

WEALTH, or the WOODY. A Poem on the

S O U T H - S E A. Wrote June 1720.

Illi robur & aes triplex Circus pectus erat, qui fragilem truci Commisit pelago ratem Primus, —— Hor. Daring and unco’ stout he was, With Heart hool’d in three Sloughs of Brass, Wha ventur’d first upon the Sea With Hempen Branks, and Horse of Tree.

Thalia, ever welcome to this Isle,210 Descend, and glad the Nation with a Smile; See frae yon Bank where South-Sea ebbs and flows, How Sand-blind Chance Woodies and Wealth bestows: Aided by thee, I’ll sail the wondrous Deep, And throw the crowded Alleys cautious creep. Not easy Task to plough the swelling Wave, Or in Stock-jobbing Press my Guts to save: But naething can our wilder Passions tame, Wha rax for Riches or immortal Fame.

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Long had the Grumblers us’d this murm’ring Sound, Poor Britain in her Publick Debt is drown’d! At fifty Millions late we started a’, And wow we wonder’d how the Debt wad fa’; But sonsy Sauls wha first contriv’d the Way, 15 With Project deep our Charges to defray; O’er and aboon it Heaps of Treasure brings, That Fouk be guess become as rich as Kings. Lang Heads they were that first laid down the Plan, Into the which the Round anes headlang ran, 20 Till overstockt, they quat the Sea, and fain wa’d been at Land.211

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1. Thalia ever welcome ] Thalia the chearful Muse that delights to imitate the Actions of Mankind, and produces the laughing Comedy. — That Kind of Poetry ever acceptable to Britons. 21. Fain wad be at Land ] Land, in the Time of this Golden two or three Months, was sold at 45, or 50 Years Purchase.

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Poems Thus when braid Flakes of Snaw have clade the Green, Aften I have young sportive Gilpies seen, The waxing Ba’ with meikle Pleasure row, Till past their Pith, it did unwieldy grow. 25 ’Tis strange to think what Changes may appear Within the narrow Circle of a Year. How can ae Project, if it be well laid, Supply the simple Want of trifling Trade!212 Saxty lang Years a Man may rack his Brain, 30 Hunt after Gear baith Night and Day wi’ Pain, And die at last in Debt, instead of Gain. But O South-Sea! What mortal Mind can run Throw a’ the Miracles that thou hast done? Not scrimply thou thy sell to bounds confines, 35 But like the Sun or ilka Party shines. To Poor and Rich, the Fools as well as Wise, With Hand impartial stretches out the Prize. Like Nilus swelling frae his unkend Head,213 Frae Bank to Brae o’erflows ilk Rig and Mead, 40 Instilling lib’ral Store of genial Sap, Whence Sun-burn’d Gypsies reap a plenteous Crap: Thus flows our Sea, but with this Diff’rence wide, But anes a Year their River heaves his Tide; Ours aft ilk Day, t’enrich the Common Weal, 45 Bangs o’er its Banks, and dings Ægyptian Nile.

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Ye Rich and Wise, we own Success your due, But your Reverse their Luck with Wonder view.214 How without Thought these dawted Petts of Fate Have jobb’d themselves into sae high a State, By pure Instinct sae leal the Mark have hit, Without the Use of either Fear or Wit.215 And ithers wha last Years their Garrets kept, Where Duns in Vision fash’d them while they slept; Wha only durst in Twilight or the Dark, Steal to a common Cook’s with haff a Mark,

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29. Trifling Trade ] All Manner of Traffick and Mechanicks was at that Time despised. Subscriptions and Transters were the only Commodities. 39. Like Nilus ] A River which crosses a great Part of Africa; the Spring-head thereof unknown till of late. In the Month of June it swells and overflows Egypt. When it rises too high, the Innundation is dangerous, and threatens a Famine. In this River are the monstrous amphibious Animals named Crocodiles, of the same Specie with the late Alligators of the South-Sea, which make a Prey of, and devour all humane Creatures they can lay hold on. 48. Your Reverse ] Poor Fools. 52. Of either Fear or Wit ] One was reckoned a timorous thinking Fool who took Advice of his Reason in the grand Affair.

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Wealth or the Woody A’ their hale Stock. — Now by a kanny Gale, In the o’erflowing Ocean spread their Sail, While they in gilded Galleys cut the Tide, Look down on Fisher Boats wi’ meikle Pride.216 60 Mean time the Thinkers wha are out of Play,217 For their ain Comfort kenna what to say; That the Foundation’s loose fain wa’d they shaw, And think na but the Fabrick soon will fa’. That’s a’ but Sham, — for inwardly they fry, 65 Vext that their Fingers were na in the Pye. Faint-hearted Wights, wha dully stood afar, Tholling your Reason great Attempts to mar; While the brave Dauntless, of sic Fetters free, Jumpt headlong glorious in the golden Sea:218 70 Where now like Gods they rule each wealthy Jaw, While you may thump your Pows against the Wa’. On Summers E’en the Welkin cawm and fair, When little Midges frisk in lazy Air, Have ye not seen thro’ ither how they reel, And Time about how up and down they wheel? Thus Eddies of Stock-jobbers drive about; Upmost to Day, the Morn their Pipe’s put out. With pensive Face, when e’er the Market’s hy, Minutius crys, Ah! what a Gowk was I. Some Friend of his, wha wisely seems to ken219 Events of Causes mair than ither Men, Push for your Interest yet, Nae Fear, he crys, For South-Sea will to twice ten hunder rise. Waes me for him that sells paternal Land, And buys when Shares the highest Sums demand: He ne’er shall taste the Sweets of rising Stock, Which faws neist Day: Nae Help for’t, he is broke.

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60. Look down on Fisher Boats ] Despis’d the virtuous Design of propagating and carrying on a Fishery, which can never fail to be a real Benefit to Britain. 61. The Thinkers ] Many of just Thinking at that Time were vex’d to see themselves trudging on Foot, when some others of very indifferent Capacities were setting up gilded Equipages; and notwithstanding of all the Doubts they formed against it, yet fretted because they were not so lucky as to have some Shares. 70. Jump headlong ] Threw off all the Fetters of Reason, and plung’d gloriously into Confusion. 81. Wha wisely ] With Grave Faces many at that Time pretended they could demonstrate this hop’d for Rise of South-Sea.

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Poems Dear Sea, be tenty how thou flows at Shams Of Hogland Gad’rens in their Foggy Drams,220 90 Lest in their muddy Boggs thou chance to sink, Where thou may’st stagnate, syne of Course maun stink. This I forsee, (and Time shall prove I’m right; For he’s nae Poet wants the second Sight,) When Autumn’s Stores are ruck’d up in the Yard, And Sleet and Snaw dreeps down cauld Winter’s Beard; When bleak November Winds make Forrests bare, And with splenetick Vapours fill the Air: Then, then in Gardens, Parks, or silent Glen, When Trees bear naething else, they’ll carry Men, Wha shall like paughty Romans greatly swing Aboon Earth’s Disappointments in a String. Sae ends the towring Saul that downa see A Man move in a higher Sphere than he. Happy that Man wha has thrawn up a Main, Which makes some Hundred thousands a’ his ain, And comes to anchor on sae firm a Rock, Britannia’s Credit, and the South-Sea Stock. Ilk blythsome Pleasure waits upon his Nod, And his Dependants eye him like a God. Closs may he bend Champain frae E’en to Morn, And look on Cells of Tippony with Scorn. Thrice lucky Pimps, or smug-fac’d wanton Fair, That can in a’ his Wealth and Pleasure skair. Like Jove he sits, like Jove, high Heavens Goodman, While the inferiour Gods about him stand, Till he permits with condescending Grace, That ilka ane in Order take their Place. Thus with attentive Look mensfow they sit, Till he speak first, and shaw some shining Wit; Syne circling wheels the flattering Gaffaw, As well they may, he gars their Beards wag a’.221 Imperial Gowd, What is’t thou canna grant? Possest of thee, What is’t a Man needs want? Commanding Coin, there’s nathing hard to thee, I canna guess how rich Fowk come to die.

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Unhappy Wretch, link’d to the threed-bare Nine, The dazling Equipage can ne’er be thine: 90. Hogland Gad’rens ] The Dutch, whom a learned Author of a late Essay has endeavoured to prove to be descended after a strange Manner from the Gaderens; which Essay Lewis the XIV. was mightily pleas’d with, and bounteously rewarded the Author. 122. Their Beards wag a’ ] Feasts them at his own proper Cost; hence the Proverb, ’Tis fair in Ha’, where Beards wag a’.

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Wealth or the Woody Destin’d to toil thro’ Labyrinths of Verse, Dar’st speak of great Stock-jobbing as a Farce. Poor thoughtless Mortal, vain of airy Dreams, Thy flying Horse, and bright Apollo’s Beams, And Helicon’s wersh Well thou ca’s Divine, Are nathing like a Mistress, Coach and Wine.

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Wad some good Patron (whase superior Skill 135 Can make the South-Sea ebb and dlow at Will,) Put in a Stock for me, I own it fair, In Epick Strain I’d pay him to a Hair; Immortalize him, and what e’er he loves, In flowing Numbers I shall sing, Approves; 140 If not, Fox like, I’ll thraw my Gab, and gloom, And ca’ your Hundred Thousand a sour Plum.

The Prospect of Plenty: A

P O E M On the

North=Sea fishery, Inscribed to the Right Honourable the Royal Burrows of Scotland. — βαιώ δε ωόνω μέγα κερδός όπηδέι Opian. Halieutic. Lib. III Thalia anes again in blythsome Lays, In Lays immortal chant the North-Sea’s Praise. Tent how the Caledonians lang supine, Begin, mair wise, to open baith their Een; And, as they ought, t’imploy that Store which Heav’n In sic Abundance to their Hands has given. Sae heedless Heir, born to a Lairdship wide, That yields mair Plenty than he kens to guide; Not well acquainted with his ain good Luck, Lets ilka sneaking Fellow take a Pluck; Till at the Lang-run, wi’ a Heart right sair, He sees the Bites grow bein, as he grows bare: Then wak’ning, looks about with glegger Glour, And learns to thrive, wha ne’er thought on’t before.

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Nae Nation in the Warld can parallel 15 The plenteous Product of this happy Isle: But Past’ral Heights, and sweet prolifick Plains, 161

Poems That can at Will command the saftest Strains. Stand yont; for Amphitrite claims our Sang,222 Wha round fair Thule drives her finny Thrang,223 20 O’er Shaws of Coral, and the Pearly Sands, To Scotia’s smoothest Lochs and Christal Strands. There keeps the Tyrant Pike his awfu’ Court, Here Trouts and Salmond in clear Channels sport. Wae to that Hand, that dares by Day or Night224 25 Defile the Stream where sporting Fries delight. But Herrings, lovely Fish, like best to play In rowan Ocean, or the open Bay: In Crouds amazing thro the Waves they shine, Millions on Millions form ilk equal Line: 30 Nor dares th’ imperial Whale, unless by Stealth, Attack their firm united Common-wealth. But artfu’ Nets, and Fishers’ wylie Skill, Can bring the scaly Nations to their Will. When these retire to Caverns of the Deep, 35 Or in their oozy Beds thro’ Winter sleep, Then shall the tempting Bait, and stented String, Beguile the Cod, the Sea-Cat, Tusk, and Ling. Thus may our Fishery thro’ a’ the Year Be still imploy’d, t’ increase the publick Gear. 40 Delytfou’ Labour, where the Industrious gains Profit surmounting ten Times a’ his Pains. Nae Pleasure like Success; then Lads stand be, Ye’ll find it endless in the Northern-Sea. O’er lang with empty Brag we have been vain Of toom Dominion on the plenteous Main, While others ran away with a’ the Gain. Thus proud Iberia vaunts of sov’reign Sway225 O’er Countries rich, frae Rise to Set of Day; She grasps the Shadow, but the Substance tines, While a’ the rest of Europe milk her Mines.

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But dawns the Day sets Britain on her Feet, Lang look’d for’s come at last, and welcome be’t: For numerous Fleets shall hem Æbudan Rocks,226 Commanding Seas, with Rowth to raise our Stocks. Nor can this be a toom Chimera found, The Fabrick’s bigget on the surest Ground.

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19. Amphitrit ] The Wife of Neptune. 20. Thule ] The Nothern Isles of Scotland are allow’d by all to be the Thule of the Antients. 25. Wae to that Hand, &c. ] There are Acts of Parliament, which severely prohibite steeping of Lint, or any other Way defiling these clear Rivers where Salmond abound. 48. Iberia ] Spain. 54. Æbudan Rocks ] The Lews, and other Western Islands.

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The Prospect of Plenty Sma is our need to toil on foreign Shores, When we have baith the Indies at our Doors, Yet, for Diversion, laden Vessels may To far aff Nations cut the liquid Way; And fraught frae ilka Port what’s nice or braw, While for their Trifles we maintain them a’. Goths, Vandals, Gauls, Hesperians, and the Moors, Shall a’ be treated frae our happy Shores: The rantin Germans, Russians, and the Poles, Shall feast with Pleasure on our gusty Sholes: For which deep in their Treasures we shall dive: Thus, by fair Trading, North-Sea Stock shall thrive.

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Sae far the bonny Prospect gave delight, 70 The warm Ideas gart the Muse take Flight: When straight a Grumbletonian appears, Peghing fou sair beneath a Lade of Fears: “Wow! That’s braw News, quoth he, to make Fools fain, “But gin ye be nae Warluck, How d’ye ken? 75 “Does Tam the Rhimer spae oughtlins of this?227 “Or do ye prophesy just as ye wish? “Will Projects thrive in this abandon’d Place? “Unsonsy we had ne’er sae meikle Grace. “I fear, I fear, your towring Aim fa’ short, 80 “Alake we winn o’er far frae King and Court? “The Southerns will with Pith your Project bauk, “They’ll never thole this great Design to tak. Thus do the Dubious ever countermine, With Party wrangle, ilka fair Design. How can a Saul that has the Use of Thought, Be to sic little creeping Fancies brought? Will Britain’s King or Parliament gainstand The universal Profit of the Land? Now when nae sep’rate Interest eags to Strife, The antient Nations join’d like Man and Wife, Maun study closs for Peace and Thriving’s sake, Aff a’ the wissen’d Leaves of Spite to shake: Let’s weave and fish to ane anither’s Hands, And never mind wha serves or wha commands; But baith alike consult the Common Weal, Happy that Moment Friendship makes us leal To Truth and Right, — Then springs a shining Day, Shall Clouds of sma’ Mistakes drive fast away. Mistakes and private Int’rest hence be gane, Mind what ye did on dire Pharsalia’s Plain, Where doughty Romans were by Romans slain.

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76. Tam the Rhimer ] Thomas Learmond, alias the Rhimer, liv’d in the Reign of Alexander III. King of Scots, and is held in great Esteem by the Vulgar for his dark Predictions.

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Poems A meaner phantom neist, with meikle Dread, Attacks with senseless Fears the weaker Head. 105 “The Dutch, say they, will strive your Plot to stap, “They’ll toom their Banks before you reap their Crap: “Lang have they ply’d that Trade like bisy Bees, “And suck’d the Profit of the Pictland Seas, “Thence Riches fish’d mair by themselves confest, “Than e’er they made by India’s East and West. 110 O mighty fine, and greatly was it spoke! Maun bauld Britannia bear Batavia’s Yoke? May she not open her ain Pantry-door, For fear the paughty State shou’d gi’e a Roar? Dare she nane of her Herrings sel or prive, Afore she say, Dear Matkie wi’ ye’r leave? Curse on the Wight wha tholes a Thought sae tame, He merits not the manly Briton’s Name. Grant they’re good Allies, yet it’s hardly wise, To buy their Friendship at sae high a Price. But frae that Airth we needna fear great Skaith, These People, right auldfaran, will be laith To thwart a Nation, wha with Ease can draw Up ilka Sluce they have, and drown them a’. Ah slothfu’ Pride! a Kingdom’s greatest Curse, How dowf looks Gentry with an empty Purse? How worthless is a poor and haughty Drone, Wha thowless stands a lazy Looker on? While active Sauls a stagnant Life despise, Still ravish’d with new Pleasures as they rise. O’er lang, in Troth, have we By-standers been, And loot Fowk lick the White out of our Een:228 Nor can we wyt them, since they had our Vote; But now they’se get the Wistle of their Groat. Here did the Muse intend a while to rest, Till hame o’er spitefu’ Din her Lugs opprest; Anither Sett of the envyfou Kind (With narrow Notions horridly confin’d) Wag their boss Noddles; syne with silly Spite Land ilka worthy Project in a Bite. They force with aukward Girn their Ridicule, And ca’ ilka ane concern’d a simple Fool, Excepting some, wha a’ the leave will nick, And gie them nought but bare Whop-shafts to lick. Maclicious Envy! Root of a’ Debates,

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132. And loot Fowk lick, &c. ] This Phrase is always applied when People with Pretence of Friendship, do you an ill Turn, as one licking a Mote out of your Eye makes it Bloodshot.

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The Prospect of Plenty The Plague of Government and Bane of States; The Nurse of positive destructive Strife, Fair Friendship’s Fae, which sowrs the Sweets of Life; Promoter of Sedition and base Fead, Still overjoy’d to see a Nation bleed. 150 Stap, stap, my Lass, forgetna where ye’r gawn,229 If ye rin on, Heav’n kens where ye may land; Turn to your Fishers Sang, and let Fowk ken The North-Sea Skippers are leal-hearted Men,230 Vers’d in the critick Seasons of the Year, 155 When to ilk Bay the Fishing-Bush should steer; There to hawl up with Joy the plenteous Fry, Which on the Decks in shining Heaps shall ly; Till carefou Hands, even while they’ve vital Heat, 231 Shall be employ’d to save their Juices sweet: 160 Strick Tent they’ll tak to stow them wi’ strang Brine,232 In Barrels tight, that shall nae Liquor tine; Then in the foreign Markets we shall stand With upright Front, and the first Sale demand. This, this our faithfou Trustees have in View, 165 And honourably will the Task Pursue: Nor are they bigging Castles in a Cloud, Their Ships already into Action scud.233 Now, dear ill-naturd Billies, say nae mair, But leave the Matter to their prudent Care: They’re Men of Candor, and right well they wate That Truth and Honesty hads lang the Gate:234 Shouder to Shouder let’s stand firm and stout, And there’s nae Fear but well soon make it out; We’ve Reason, Law, and Nature on our Side, And have nae Bars, but Party, Slowth, and Pride. When a’s in Order, as it soon will be, And Fleets of Bushes fill the Northern-Sea, What hopefou’ Images with Joy arise, In Order rang’d before the Muse’s Eyes? A Wood of Masts, — well mann’d, —, their jovial Din, Like eydent Bees gawn out and coming in. Here haff a Nation, healthfou, wise, and stark, With Spirits only tint for want of Wark,

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151. Lass ] The Muse 154. North-Sea Skippers ] The Managers. 159. Vital Heat ] ’Tis a vast Advantage to cure them immediately after they are taken. 161. Strang Brine ] Foreign Salt. 168. Into Action Scud ] Several large Ships are already imploy’d, and took in their Salt and Barrels a Month ago. 172. Hads lang the Gate ] Holds long its Head, longest keeps the high Way or Gate.

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Poems Shall now find Place their Genius to exert, 185 While in the common Good they act their Part. These, fit for Servitude, shall bear a Hand, And these find Government form’d for Command. Besides, this as a Nursery shall breed Stout skill’d Marines, when Britains Navies need. 190 Pleas’d with their Labour, when their Task is done, They’ll leave green Thetis to embrace the Sun: Then freshest Fish shall on the Brander Bleez, And lend the bisy Browster-wife a Heez: While healthfou Hearts shall own their honest Flame, 195 With reaming Quaff, and whomelt to her Name, Whase active Motion to his Heart did reach, As she the Cods was turning; on the Beech.235 Curs’d Poortith, Love, and Hymen’s deadly Fae, (That gars young Fowk in Prime cry aft, Oh hey, 200 And single live, till Age and Runkles shaw Their canker’d Spirit’s good for nought at a’;) Now flit your Camp, far frae our Confines scour, Our Lads and Lasses soon shall slight your Power; For Rowth shall cherish Love, and Love shall bring 205 Mae Men t’improve the Soil and serve the King. Thus universal Plenty shall produce Strength to the State, and Arts for Joy and Use. O Plenty, thou Delyt of great and sma, Thou nervous Sinnow of baith War and Law: The Statesman’s Drift, Spur to the Artist’s Skill, Nor does the very Flamens like thee ill;236 The shabby Poet hate thee! That’s a Lye, Or else they are nae of a Mind wi’ me. Plenty shall cultivate ilk Scawp and Moor, Now Lee and bare, because the Landlord’s poor. On scroggy Braes shall Akes and Ashes grow, And bonny Gardens clead the brecken How. Does others backward dam the raging Main,237 Raising on barren Sands a flowry Plain? By us then shou’d the Thought o’t be endur’d, To let braid Tracts of Land ly unmanur’d? Uncultivate nae mair they shall appear, But shine with a’ the Beauties of the Year; Which start with Ease frae the obedient Soil, And ten Times o’er reward a little Toil.

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Alang wild Shores, where tumbling Billows break, 158. The Beech ] The Beech is a Number of big Stones, where they dry the Cod and Ling. 72. Flamens ] Priests. 179. The raging Main ] The Dutch have gain’d a great Deal from the Sea.

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The Prospect of Plenty Plenisht with nought but Shells and Tangle-Wreck, Braw Towns shall rise, with Steeples mony a ane, And Houses bigget a’ with Estler Stane: Where Schools polite shall lib’ral Arts display, And make auld barb’rous Darkness fly away. Now Nereus rising frae his watry Bed, The Pearly Drops hap down his lyart Head; Oceanus with Pleasure hears him sing, Tritons and Nereids form a jovial Ring; And dancing on the deep, Attention draw, While a’ the Winds in Love, but sighing, blaw. The Sea-born Prophet sang in sweetest Strain, “Britons be blyth, fair Queen of Isles be fain; “A richer People never saw the Sun: “Gang tightly throw what fairly you’ve begun; “Spread a’ your Sails and Streamers in the Wind, “For ilka Power in Sea and Air’s your Friend; “Great Neptune’s unexhausted Bank has Store “Of endless Wealth, will gar yours a’ run o’er.” He sang sae loud, round Rocks the Echoes flew, ’Tis true, he said; they are return’d, ’tis true.

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September 1720.

SCOTS SONGS Spoken to Mrs. N. A Poem wrote without a Thought, By Notes may to a Song be brought, Tho Wit be scarce, low the Design, And Numbers lame in ev’ry Line: But when fair Christy this shall sing 5 In Consort with the trembling String, O then the Poet’s often prais’d, For Charms so sweet a Voice hath rais’d.

MARY SCOT. Happy’s the Love which meets Return, When in soft Flames Souls equal burn; But Words are wanting to discover Torments of a hopeless Lover. Ye Registers of Heav’n relate, 5 If looking o’er the Rolls of Fate, 167

Poems Did you there see mark’d for my Marrow Mary Scot the Flower of Yarrow. Ah no! Her Form’s too heavenly fair, Her Love the Gods above must share, 10 While Mortals with Despair explore her, And at Distance due adore her. O lovely Maid! my Doubts beguile, Revive and bless me with a Smile; Alace! if not, you’ll soon debar a 15 Sighing Swain the Banks of Yarrow. Be hush ye Fears, I’ll not despair, My Mary’s tender as she’s fair; Then I’ll go tell her all mine Anguish; She is too good to let me languish; With Success crown’d I’ll not envy The Folks who dwell above the Sky, When Mary Scot’s become my Marrow, We’ll make a Paradice on Yarrow.

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O’er B O G I E. I will awa’ wi’ my Love, I will awa’ wi’ her, Tho a’ my Kin had sworn and said, I’ll o’er Bogie wi’ her. If I can get but her Consent, 5 I dinna care a Strae, Tho ilka ane be discontent, Awa’ wi’ her I’ll gae. I will awa’, &c. For now she’s Mistress of my Heart, And wordy of my Hand, 10 And well I wat we shanna part, For Siller or for Land. Let Rakes delyte to swear and drink, And Beaus admire fine Lace, But my chief Pleasure is to blink 15 On Betty’s bonny Face. I will awa’, &c. There a’ the Beauties do combine Of Colour, Treats and Air, The Saul that sparkles in her Een Makes her a Jewel rare: Her flowing Wit gives shining Life To a’ her other Charms, 168

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Scots Songs How blest I’ll be when she’s my Wife, And lockt up in my Arms. I will awa’, &c. There blythly will I rant and sing, 25 While o’er her Sweets I range, I’ll cry, Your humble Servant King, Shamefa’ them that wa’d change A Kiss of Betty and a Smile, Abeet ye wa’d lay down 30 The Right ye ha’e to Britain’s Isle, And offer me ye’r Crown. I will awa’, &c.

O’er the Moor to MAGGY. And I’ll o’er the Moor to Maggy, Her Wit and Sweetness call me, Then to my Fair I’ll show my Mind, Whatever may befal me. If she love Mirth, I’ll learn to sing, 5 Or likes the Nine to follow, I’ll lay my Lugs in Pindus’ Spring, And invocate Apollo. If she admire a martial Mind, I’ll sheath my Limbs in Armour; 10 If to the softer Dance inclin’d, With gayest Airs I’ll charm her; If she love Grandeur, Day and Night I’ll plot my Nations Glory, Find Favour in my Prince’s Sight, 15 And shine in future Story. Beauty can Wonders work with Ease, Where Wit is corresponding, And bravest Men know best to please, With Complaisance abounding. My bonny Maggy’s Love can turn Me to what Shape she pleases, If in her Breast that Flame shall burn Which in my Bosom bleezes.

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I’ll never leave Thee. JONNY. Tho’ for seven Years and mair Honour shou’d reave me, To Fields where Cannons rair, thou need na grieve thee; For deep in my Spirit thy Sweets are indented, And love shall preserve ay what Love has imprinted. Leave thee, leave thee, I’ll never leave thee, Gang the World as it will, Dearest believe me.

NELLY. O Jonny I’m jealous, when e’er ye discover My Sentiments yielding, ye’ll turn a loose Rover; And nought i’ the Warld wa’d vex my Heart sairer, If you prove unconstant, and fancy ane fairer. Grieve me, grieve me, Oh It wad grieve me! A’ the lang Night and Day, if you deceive me. JONNY. My Nelly let never sic Fancies oppress ye, For while my Blood’s warm I’ll kindly caress ye, Your blooming saft Beauties first beeted Love’s Fire, Your Virtue and Wit make it ay flame the hyer: Leave thee, leave thee, I’ll never leave thee, Gang the Warld as it will, Dearest believe me. NELLY. Then Jonny I frankly this Minute allow ye To think me your Mistress, for Love gars me trow ye, And gin ye prove fa’se, to ye’r sel be it said then, Ye’ll win but sma’ Honour to wrang a kind Maiden. Reave me, reave me, Heav’ns! it wad reave me, Of my Rest Night and Day, if ye deceive me. JONNY. Bid Iceshogles hammer red Gauds on the Study, And fair Simmer Mornings nae mair appear ruddy; Bid Britons think ae Gate, and when they obey ye, But never till that Time, believe I’ll betray ye: Leave thee, leave thee, I’ll never leave thee; The Starns shall gang withershins e’er I deceive thee.

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Polwart on the Green. At Polwart on the Green If you’ll meet me the Morn, Where Lasses do conveen To dance about the Thorn; A kindly Welcome you shall meet 5 Frae her wha likes to view A Lover and a Lad complete, The Lad and Lover you. Let dorty Dames say Na, As lang as e’er they please, 10 Seem caulder than the Sna’, While inwardly they bleeze; But I will frankly shaw my Mind, And yield my Heart to thee; Be ever to the Captive kind, 15 That langs na to be free. At Polwart on the Green, Among the new mawn Hay, With Sangs and Dancing keen We’ll pass the heartsome Day, 20 At Night if Beds be o’er thrang laid, And thou be twin’d of thine, Thou shalt be welcome, my dear Lad, To take a Part of mine.

JOHN HAY’s Bonny Lassie. By smooth winding Tay a Swain was reclining, Aft cry’d he, Oh hey! Maun I still live pining My sell thus away, and darna discover To my bonny Hay that I am her Lover. Nae mair it will hide, the Flame waxes stranger, If she’s not my Bride, my Days are nae langer; Then I’ll take a Heart, and try at a Venture, May be e’er we part my Vows may content her.

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She’s fresh as the Spring, and sweet as Aurora, When Birds mount and sing bidding Day a Good-morrow. 10 The Sward of the Mead enamel’d with Daisies, Look wither’d and dead when twin’d of her Graces. But if she appear where Verdures invite her, The Fountains run clear, and Flowers smell the Sweeter, 171

Poems ’Tis Heav’n to be by, when her Wit is a flowing, 15 Her Smiles and bright Eye set my Spirits a glowing. The mair that I gaze, the deeper I’m wounded, Struck dumb with Amaze, my Mind is confounded; I’m all in a Fire, dear Maid, to caress ye, For a’ my Desire is Hay’s bonny Lassie.

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Genty Tibby and sonsy Nelly. To the Tune of Tibby Fowler in the Glen. TIBBY has a Store of Charms, Her genty Shape our Fancy warms, How starkly can her sma’ white Arms Fetter the Lad wha looks but at her; Frae Ancle to her slender Waste, 5 These Sweets conceal’d invite to dawt her, Her rosie Cheek and rising Breast, Gar ane’s Mouth gush bowt fou’ o’ Water. Nelly’s gawsy, saft and gay, Fresh as the lucken Flowers in May, 10 Ilk ane that sees her cries Ah hey! She’s bonny, O I wonder at her! The Dimples of her Chin and Cheek, And Limbs sae plump invite to dawt her, Her Lips sae sweet, and Skin sae sleek, 15 Gar mony Mouths beside mine water. Now strike my Finger in a Bore, My Wyson with the Maiden shore, Gin I can tell whilk I am for When these twa Stars appear thegether. 20 O Love! Why dost thou gi’e thy Fires Sae large? while we’re oblig’d to nither Our spacious Sauls immense Desires, And ay be in a hankerin Swither. Tibby’s Shape and Airs are fine, 25 And Nelly’s Beauties are divine; But since they canna baith be mine, Ye Gods give Ear to my Petition, Provide a good Lad for the tane, But let it be with this Provision, 30 I get the other to my lane, In Prospect plano and Fruition.

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Up in the Air. Now the Sun’s gane out o’ Sight, Beet the Ingle, and snuff the Light: In Glens the Fairies skip and dance, And Witches wallop o’er to France, Up in the Air 5 On my bonny grey Mare. And I see her yet, and I see her yet, Up in, &c. The Wild’s drifting Hail and Sna’ O’er frozen Hags like a Foot Ba’, 10 Nae Starns keek throw the Azure Slit, ’Tis cauld and mirk as ony Pit, The Man i’ the Moon Is carowsing aboon, D’ye see, d’ye see, d’ye see him yet. 15 The Man, &c. Take your Glass to clear your Een, ’Tis the Elixir hales the Spleen, Baith Wit and Mirth it will inspire, And gently puffs the Lover’s Fire, 20 Up in the Air, It drives away Care, Ha’e wi’ ye, ha’e wi’ ye, and ha’e wi’ ye Lads yet, Up in, &c. Steek the Doors, keep out the Frost, Come Willy gi’es about ye’r Tost, Til’t Lads, and lilt it out, And let us ha’e a blythsom Bowt, Up wi’t there, there, Dinna cheat, but drink fair, Huzza, Huzza, and Huzza Lads yet, Up wi’t, &c.

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R I S E and F A L L OF

S T O C K S,

1 7 2 0. An Epistle to the Right Honourable my Lord Ramsay, now in Paris. Your Pettifoggers damn their Souls! To share with Knaves in cheating Fools, And Merchants vent’ring on the Main Slight Pirates, Rocks, and Horns for Gain. Hudibras.

My Lord, Withoutten Preface or Preamble, My Fancy being on the Ramble; Transported with an honest Passion, Viewing our poor bambouzl’d Nation, Biting her Nails, her Knuckles wringing, Her Cheek sae blae, her Lip sae hinging; Grief and Vexation’s like to kill her, For tyning baith her Tick and Siller. Allow me then to make a Comment On this Affair of greatest Moment Which has fa’n out, my Lord, since ye Left Lothian and the Edge-well Tree:238 And, with your Leave, I needna stickle To say we’re in a sorry Pickle, Since Poortith o’er ilk Head does hover Frae John a Groat’s House, South to Dover.239 Sair have we pelted been with Stocks, Casting our Credit at the Cocks. Lang guilty of the highest Treason Against the Government of Reason; We madly at our ain Expences, Stock-job’d away our Cash and Senses.

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As little Bairns frae Winnocks hy Drap down Saip Bells to waiting Fry, Wha run and wrestle for the Prize, 25 With Face erect and watchfou’ Eyes; 12. Edge-well Tree ] An Oak Tree which grows on the Side of a fine Spring, nigh the Castle of Dalhousie, very much observed by the Country People, who give out, that before any of the Family died, a Branch fell from the Edge-well Tree. The old Tree some few Years ago fell altogether, but another sprung from the same Root, which is now tall and flourishing, and lang be’t sae. 16. John a Groat’s House ] The Northmost House in Scotland.

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The Rise and Fall of Stocks The Lad wha gleggest waits upon it, Receives the Bubble on his Bonnet, Views with Delight the shining Beau-thing, Which in a Twinkling bursts to Nothing. Sae Britain brought on a’ her Troubles, By running daftly after Bubles.

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Impos’d on by langnebit Juglers, Stock-Jobbers, Brokers, cheating Smuglers, Wha set their Gowden Girns sae wylie, 35 Tho ne’er sae cautious they’d beguile ye. The covetous Infatuation Was smittle out o’er a’ the Nation, Clergy and Lawyers and Physicians, Mechanicks, Merchants, and Musicians; 40 Baith Sexes of a’ Sorts and Sizes Drap’d ilk Design and jobb’d for Prizes. Frae Noblemen to Livery Varlets, Frae topping Toasts to Hackney Harlots. Poetick Dealers were but scarce, 45 Less browden still on Cash than Verse; Only ae Bard to Coach did mount,240 By singing Praise to Sir John Blount; But since his mighty Patron fell, He looks just like Jock Blunt himsel.241 50 Some Lords and Lairds sell’d Riggs and Castles, And play’d them aff with tricky Rascals, Wha now with Routh of Riches vapour, While their late Honours live on Paper. But ah! the Difference ’twixt good Land, And a poor Bankrupt Bubble’s Band.

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Thus Europeans Indians rifle, And give them for their Gowd some Trifle; As Deugs of Velvet, Chips of Christal, A Facon’s Bell, or Baubie Whistle. 60 Merchants and Bankers Heads gade wrang, They thought to Millions they might spang; Despis’d the virtuous Road to Gain, And look’d on little Bills with Pain: The well win Thousands of some Years, In ae big Bargain disappears. ’Tis fair to bide, but wha can help it, Instead of Coach, on Foot they skelp it.

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47. Only ae Bard, &c. ] Vide Dick Franklin’s Epistle. 50. He looks just like Jock Blunt ] This is commonly said of a person who is out of Countenance at a Disapointment.

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Poems The Ten per Cents wha durstna venture, But lent great Sums upon Indenture, 70 To Billies wha as frankly war’d it, As they out of their Guts had spar’d it, When craving Money they have lent, They’re answer’d, Item, A’ is spent. The Miser hears him with a Gloom, 75 Girns like a Brock and bites his Thumb, Syne shores to grip him by the Wyson, And keep him a’ his Days in Prison. Sae may ye do, replies the Debter, But that can never mend the Matter: 80 As soon can I mount Charle-wain, As pay ye back your Gear again. Poor Mouldy rins quite by himsel,242 And bans like ane broke loose frae Hell. It lulls a wee my Mullygrubs, 85 To think upon these bitten Scrubs, When naething saves their vital Low, But the Expences of a Tow. Thus Children oft with carefu’ Hands, In Summer dam up little Strands, 90 Collect the Drizel to a Pool, In which their glowing Limbs they cool; Till by comes some ill-deedy Gift,243 Wha in the Bulwark makes a Rift, And with ae Strake in Ruins lays, 95 The Work of Use, Art, Care and Days. Even Handy-crafts-men too turn’d saucy, And maun be Coaching’t thro’ the Causy; Syne stroot fou paughty in the Alley, Transferring Thousands with some Valley: 100 Grow rich in Fancy, treat their Whore, Nor mind they were, or shall be poor. Like little Joves they treat the Fair, With Gowd frae Banks built in the Air; For which their Danaes lift the Lap,244 105 And compliment them with a Clap, Which by aft jobbing grows a Pox, Till Brigs of Noses fa’ with Stocks. Here Coachmen, Grooms, or Pasment Trotter, Glitter’d a while, then turn’d to Snoter:

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83. By himself ] Mad, out of his Wits. 94. Ill deedy Gift ] A Rogish Boy, who is seldom without doing a bad Action. 105. Danaes ] Danae the Daughter of Acrisius King of Argos, to whom Jupiter descended in a Shower of Gold.

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The Rise and Fall of Stocks Like a shot Starn, that thro’ the Air Skyts East or West with unko Glare, But found neist Day on Hillock Side, Nae better seems nor Paddock Ride. Some Reverend Brethren left their Flocks, And sank their Stipends in the Stocks; But tining baith, like Æsop’s Colly, O’er late they now lament their Folly.

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For three warm Months, May, June, and July, There was odd scrambling for the Spulzy; 120 And mony a ane, till he grew tyr’d, Gather’d what Gear his Heart desir’d. We thought that Dealer’s Stock an ill ane, That was not wordy haf a Million. O had this Golden Age but lasted, 125 And no sae soon been broke and blasted, There is a Person well I ken245 Might wi’ the best gane right far ben; His Project better had succeeded, And far less Labour had he needed: 130 But ’tis a Daffin to debate, And aurgle-bargain with our Fate. Well, had this Gowden Age but lasted, And not so soon been broke and blasted, O wow, my Lord, these had been Days 135 Which might have claim’d your Poet’s Lays; But soon alake! the mighty Dagon Was seen to fa’ without a Rag on. In Harvest was a dreadfu’ Thunder, Which gart a’ Britain glowr and wonder; 140 The phizzing Bowt came with a Blatter, And dry’d our great Sea to a Gutter. But mony Fowk with Wonder speir, What can become of a’ the Gear? For a’ the Country is repining, 145 And ilka ane complains of tining. Plain Answer I had best let be, And tell ye just a Similie. Like Belzie when he nicks a Witch, Wha sells her Saul she may be rich; He finding this the Bait to damn her, Casts o’er her Een his cheating Glamour: She signs and seals, and he affords

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127. A Person, &c. ] Meaning my self, with Regard to my printing this Volume by Subscription.

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Poems Her Heaps of visionary Hoords; But when she comes to count the Cunzie, ’Tis a’ Sklate-stanes instead of Money.

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Thus we’ve been trick’d with braw Projectors, And faithfu’ managing Directors, Wha for our Cash, the Saul of Trade, Bonny Propines of Paper made; 160 On footing clean, drawn unco’ fair, Had they not vanisht into Air. When South-Sea Tyde was at a Hight, My Fancy took a daring Flight,246 Thalia, lovely Muse, inspired 165 My Breast, and me with Fore-sight fired; Rapt into future Months, I sa’ The rich Aerial Babel fa’. ’Yond Seas I saw the Upstarts drifting, Leaving their Coaches for the lifting. 170 These Houses fit for Wights gane mad, I saw cramm’d fou as they cou’d had; While little Sauls sunk with Despair, Implor’d cauld Death to end their Care. But now a sweeter Scene I view, 175 Time has, and Time shall prove I’m true; For fair Astrea a moves frae Heav’n, And shortly shall make a’ Odds Ev’n. The honest Man shall be regarded, And Villains as they ought rewarded. 180 The setting Moon and rosie Dawn Bespeak a shining Day at Hand; A glorious Sun shall soon arise, To brighten up Britannia’s Skies. Our King and Senate shall engage 185 To drive the Vultures off the Stage: Trade then shall flourish, and ilk Art, A lively Vigour shall impart To Credit languishing and famisht, And Lombard-street shall be replenish. 190 Got safe ashore after this Blast, Britons shall smile at Follies past. God grant your Lordship Joy and Health, Lang Days and Rowth of real Wealth; Safe to the Land of Cakes Heav’n send ye, And frae cross Accidents defend ye. Edinb. March 25. 1721. 164. My Fancy, &c. ] Wealth or the Woody, wrote in the Month June last.

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Patie and Pegie

PATIE and PEGIE: A

S A N G. PATIE. By the delicious Warmness of thy Mouth, And rowing Eye, which smiling tells the Truth, I guess, my Lassie, that, as well as I You’re made for Love, and why should ye deny. PEGIE. But ken ye, Lad, gin we confess o’er soon, Ye think us cheap, and syne the Wooing’s done: The Maiden that o’er quickly tines her Power, Like unripe Fruit, will taste but hard and sowr. PATIE. But when they hing o’er lang upon the Tree, Their Sweetness they may tine, and sae may ye: Red Cheeked you completely ripe appear, And I have thol’d, and woo’d a lang haff Year.

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PEGIE. Then dinna pou me; gently thus I fa’ Into my Patie’s Arms for good and a’: But stint your Wishes to this frank Embrace, 15 And mint nae farrer till we’ve got the Grace. PATIE. O charming Armfou! Hence ye Cares away, I’ll kiss my Treasure a’ the live lang Day; A’ Night I’ll dream my Kisses o’er again, Till that Day come, that ye’ll be a’ my ain.

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CHORUS. Sun gallop down the Westlin Skyes, Gang soon to Bed, and quickly rise; O lash ye’r Steeds, post Time away, And haste about our Bridel-Day; And if ye’r weary’d, honest Light, 25 Sleep gin ye like a Week that Night.

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P R O L O G U E. Spoke by one of the young Gentlemen, who, for their Improvement and Diversion, acted The Orphan, and Cheats of Scapin, the last Night of the Year 1719. Braw Lads, and bonny Lasses, welcome here, – But wha’s to entertain ye, – never speer. – Quietness is best. – Tho we be leal and true, Good Sense and Wit’s mair than we dare avow. – Some Body says to some Fowk, We’re to blame, That ’tis a Scandal and black-burning Shame To thole young Callands thus to grow sae snack, And lear – O mighty Crimes! – to speak and act. – Stage-Plays, quoth Dunce, are unco’ Things indeed! He said, – he gloom’d, – and shook his thick boss Head. They’re Papery, Papery! – cry’d his Nibour neist, Contriv’d at Rome by some malignant Priest, To witch away Fowks Minds frae doing well, As faith Rab Ker, M‘Millan and M‘Neil.247

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But let them tauk. – In Spite of ilk Cadaver, 15 We’ll cherish Wit, and scorn their Fead or Favour; We’ll strive to bring in active Eloquence, Tho for a while upon our Fame’s Expence. – I’m wrang. – Our Fame will mount with metled Carles, And for the rest, we’ll be aboon their Snarls. – 20 Knock down the Fools, wha dare with empty Rage Spit in the Face of Virtue and the Stage. ’Cause Hereticks in Pulpits thump and rair, Must naithing orthodox b’expected there; Because a Rump cut off a Royal Head, 25 Must not anither Parli’ment succeed. Thus tho the Drama’s aft debauch’d and rude, Must we, for some are bad, refuse the good: Answer me that, – if there be ony Log, That’s come to keek upon us here incog, 30 Anes, – Twice, Thrice. – But now I think on’t, stay, Iv’e something else to do, and must away. – This Prologue was design’d for Use and Sport, The Chiel that made it, let him answer for’t.

14. Rab Ker ] One who put the canting Phrases of M‘Millan and M‘Neil (two nonconforming Hill Preachers) into wretched Rhime.

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An Elegy on Patie Birnie

The Life and Acts of,

OR, An ELEGY on PATIE BIRNIE,

The Famous Fidler of Kinghorn; Who gart Lieges gawff and girn ay, Aft till the Cock proclaim’d the Morn: Tho baith his * Weeds and Mirth were pirny,248 He roos’d these Things were langest worn, The brown Ale Barrel was his Kirn ay, And faithfully he toom’d his Horn. And then besides his valliant Acts, At Bridals he wan mony Placks. Hab. Simpson. IN Sonnet slee the Man I sing, His rare Engine in Rhyme shall ring, Wha slaid the Stick out o’er the String With sic an Art; Wha sang sae sweetly to the Spring, 5 And rais’d the Heart. Kinghorn may rue the ruefou Day That lighted Patie to his Clay, Wha gart the hearty Billies stay And spend their Cash, 10 To see his Snowt, to hear him play, And gab sae gash. When Strangers landed, wow sae thrang249 Fuffin and peghing he wa’d gang And crave their Pardon that sae lang 15 He’d been a coming; Syne his Bread-winner out he’d bang, And fa’ to Bumming. Your Honour’s Father dead and gane,250 *Weeds and Mirth were pirny ] When a Piece of Stuff is wrought unequally, Part coarse and Part fine, of Yarn of different Colours, we call it pirny, from the Pirn, or little hollow Reed which holds the Yarn in the Shuttle. 13. When Strangers landed ] It was his Custom to watch when Strangers went into a publick House, and attend them, pretending they had sent for him, and that he could not get away sooner from other Company. 19. Your Honour’s Father ] It was his first Compliment to one (tho he had never perhaps seen him, nor any of his Predecessors) That well he kend his Honour’s Father, and been merry with him, and an excellent Good-fellow he was.

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Poems For him he first wa’d make his Mane, 20 But soon his Face cou’d make ye fain251 When he did sough, O wiltu, wiltu do’t again!252 And gran’d and leugh. This Sang he made frae his ain Head,253 25 And eke The auld Man’s Mare She’s dead, Tho Peets and Tures and a’s to lead, O fy upon her! A bonny auld Thing this indeed, An’t like ye’r Honour. 30 After ilk Tune he took a Sowp, And bann’d wi’ Birr the corky Cowp,254 That to the Papists Country scowp, To lear Ha ha’s, Frae Chiels that sing Hap, Stap and Lowp, 35 Wantin the B—s. That beardless Capons are na Men, We by their fozie Springs might ken; But ours he said cou’d Vigiour len’ To Men o’ Weir, 40 And gar them stout to Battle sten’ Withoutten Fear. How first he practis’d, ye shall hear, The Harn-pan of an umquhile Mare, He strung, and strak Sounds saft and clear, 45 Out o’ the Pow, Which fir’d his Saul, and gart his Ear With Gladness glow. Sae some auld-gabet Poets tell, Jove’s nimble Son and Leckie snell 50 Made the first Fiddle of a * Shell,255 On which Apollo, 21. Soon his Face wad make ye fain ] Shewing a very particular Comicalness in his Looks and Gestures, laughing and groaning at the same time, he plays, sings, and breaks in with some quire Tale twice or thrice e’er he get through the Tune. His Beard is no small Addition to the Diversion. 23. O Wiltu ] The Name of a Tune he play’d on all Occasions. 25. This Sang be made ] He boasted of being Poet as well as Musician. 32. Band wi’ Birr the corky Cowp, &c. ] Curs’d strongly the light headed Fellows who run to Italy to learn soft Musick. * Tuque Testudo, resonare septem Callida nervis. HORACE.

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An Elegy on Patie Birnie With meikle Pleasure play’d himsel Baith Jig and Solo. O Jonny Stocks what comes o’ thee,256 55 I’m sure thou’lt break thy Heart and die; Thy Birnie gane, thou’lt never be Nor blyth nor able To shake thy short Houghs merrily Upon a Table. 60 How pleasant was’t to see thee didle, And dance sae finely to his Fiddle, With Nose forgainst a Lass’s Midle, And briskly brag, With cutty Steps to ding their Striddle, 65 And gar them fag. He catch’d a crishy Webster Loun At runkling o’ his Deary’s Gown, And wi’ a Rung came o’er his Crown, For being there; 70 But starker Thrums got Patie down, And knoost him sair. Wae worth the Dog, he maist had fell’d him, Revengfu’ Pate aft green’d to geld him, He aw’d a Mends, and that he tell’d him, 75 And bann’d to do’t, He took the Tid, and fairly sell’d him For a Recruit. Pate was a Carle of canny Sense, And wanted ne’er a right bein Spence,257 80 And laid up Dollars in Defence ’Gainst Eild and Gout, Well judging Gear in future Tense Cou’d stand for Wit. Yet prudent Fowk may take the Pet; Anes thrawart Porter wadna let258 Him in while Latter-meat was het, He gaw’d fou sair,

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55. Jonny Stocks ] A man of low Stature, but very broad, a loving Friend of his, who used to dance to his Musick. 80. Bein Spence ] Good Store of Provision, the Spence being a little Apartment for Meal, Flesh, &c. 86. Anes thrawart Porter, &c.] This happened in the Duke of Rothess’s Time; His Grace was giving an Entertainment, and Patrick being deny’d Entry by the Servants, he either from a cunning View of the lucky Consequence, or in a Passion, did what’s described.

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Poems Flang in his Fiddle o’er the Yet, Whilk ne’er did mair. 90 But Profit may arise frae Loss, Sae Pate gat Comfort by his Cross: Soon as he wan within the Closs, He dously drew in Mair Gear frae ilka gentle Goss 95 Than bought a new ane. When lying bedfast sick and sair, To Parish Priest he promis’d fair, He ne’er wad drink fou ony mair: But hale and tight, 100 He prov’d the Auld-man to a Hair, Strute ilka Night. The hally Dad with Care essays To wile him frae his wanton Ways, And tell’d him of his Promise twice: 105 Pate answer’d cliver, “Wha tents what People raving says “When in a Fever. At Bothwell-Brig he gade to fight,259 But being wise as he was wight, 110 He thought it shaw’d a Saul but slight, Dauftly to stand, And let Gun-powder wrang his Sight, Or Fidle-Hand. Right pawkily he left the Plain, 115 Nor o’er his Shoulder look’d again, But scour’d o’er Moss and Moor amain, To Rieky straight, And tald how mony Whigs were slain Before they faught. 120 Sae I’ve lamented Patie’s End; But least your Grief o’er far extend, Come dight your Cheeks, ye’r Brows unbend, And lift ye’r Head, For to a’ Britain be it kend 125 He is not dead. January 25. 1721. 109. Bothwell-Brig ] Upon Clyde, where the famous Battle was fought, Anno 1679, for the Determination of some kittle Points. But I dare not assert that it was Religion carried my Heroe to the Field.

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Cupid thrown into the South-Sea

CUPID thrown into the South-Sea. Myrtilla, as like Venus’ sell As e’er an Egg was like anither, Anes Cupid met upon the Mall, And took her for his bonny Mither. He wing’d his Way up to her Breast; She started, he cry’d, Mam ’tis me; The Beauty, in o’er rash a Jest, Flang the Arch-Gytling in South-Sea. Frae thence he raise wi’ guilded wings, His Bow and Shafts to Gowd were chang’d; Deel’s i’ the Sea, quoth he, it dings; Syne back to Mall and Park he rang’d. Breathing Mischief, the God look’d gurly, With Transfers a’ his Darts were feather’d; He made a horrid hurly burly, Where Beaus and Belles were thickest gather’d. He tentily Myrtilla sought, And in the thrang Change-Alley got her; He drew his Bow, and quick as Thought With a braw new Subscription shot her.

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SATYR’s

COMICK PROJECT For recovering A young Bankrupt Stock-jobber. A

S O N G.260

On the Shore of a low ebbing Sea, A sighing young Jobber was seen Staring wishfully at an old Tree Which grew on the neighbouring Green. There’s a Tree that can finish the Strife 5 And Disorder that warrs in my Breast, What need one be pain’d with his Life, When a Halter can purchase him rest?

From the Beginning of the 20th Line, sing to the Tune of Colin’s Complaint.

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Poems Sometimes he would stamp and look wild, Then roar out a terrible Curse 10 On Bubbles that had him beguil’d, And left ne’er a Doit in his Purse. A Satyr that wander’d along, With a Laugh to his Raving reply’d; The Savage maliciously sung, 15 And jock’d while the Stockjobber cry’d. To Mountains and Rocks he complain’d, His Cravat was bath’d with his Tears; The Satyr drew near like a Friend, And bid him abandon his Fears. 20 Said he, Have ye been at the Sea,261 And met with a contrary Wind, That you rail at fair Fortune so free, Don’t blame the poor Goddess she’s blind, Come hold up thy Head foolish Wight, 25 I’ll teach thee the Loss to retrieve; Observe me this Project aright, And think not of hanging, but live. Hecatissa conceited and old, Affects in her Airs to seem young, 30 Her Joynture yields Plenty of Gold, And Plenty of Nonsense her Tongue. Lay Siege to her for a short Space, Ne’er mind that she’s wrinkl’d or grey; Extoll her for Beauty and Grace, 35 And doubt not of gaining the Day. In Wedlock ye fairly may join, And when of her Wealth you are sure, Make free with the old Woman’s Coin, And purchase a sprightly young W—. 40

From the 21st Line, where the Satyr beings to speak to the tune of The Kirk was let me be.

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To the Musick Club TO THE

MUSICK CLUB. E’er on old Shinar’s Plain the Fortress rose, Rear’d by those Giants who durst Heav’n oppose; An universal Language Mankind us’d, ’Till daring Crimes brought Accents more confus’d; Discord and Jar for Punishment were hurl’d On Hearts and Tongues of the rebellious World. The primar Speech with Notes harmonious clear, Transposing Thought, gave Pleasure to the Ear: Then Musick in its full Perfection shin’d, When Man to Man melodious spoke his Mind.

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As when a richly fraughted Fleet is lost In rolling Deeps, far from the ebbing Coast, Down many Fathoms of the liquid Mass, The Artist dives in Ark of Oak, or Brass, Snatches some Ingots of Peruvian Ore, 15 And with his Prize rejoycing makes the Shore. Oft this Attempt is made, and much they find; They swell in Wealth, tho much is left behind. Amphion’s Sons, with Minds elate and bright, Thus plunge th’ unbounded Ocean of Delight, And daily gain new Stores of pleasing Sounds To glad the Earth, fixing to Spleen its Bounds; While vocal Tubes and consort Strings engage To speak the Dialect of the Golden Age. Then you whose Symphony of Souls proclaim Your Kin to Heaven, add to your Country’s Fame, And shew that Musick may have as good Fate In Albion’s Glens, as Umbria’s green Retreat; And with Correlli’s soft Italian Song Mix Cowdon Knows, and Winter Nights are long. Nor should the Martial Pibrough be despis’d, Own’d and refin’d by you, these shall the more be priz’d. Each ravisht Ear extolls your Heavenly Art, Which sooths our Care, and elevates the Heart, Whilst hoarser Sounds the martial Ardures move, And liquid Notes invite to Shades and Love. Hail safe Restorer of distemper’d Minds, That with Delight the raging Passion binds; Extatick Concord only banisht Hell, Most perfect where the perfect Beings dwell. Long may our Youth attend thy charming Rites, Long may they relish thy transporting Sweets. 187

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Wine and Musick, an O D E. SYMON. O Colin how dull is’t to be, When a Soul is sinking wi’ Pain, To one who is pained like me: My Life’s grown a Load, And my Faculties nod, 5 While I sigh for cold Jeanie in vain; By Beauty and Scorn I’m slain: The Wound it is mortal and deep, My Pulses beat low in each Vein, And threaten eternal Sleep. 10 COLIN. Come here are the best Cures for thy Wounds, O Boy, the cordial Bowl! With soft harmonious Sounds, Wounds, these can cure all Wounds, With soft harmonious Sounds, And pull off the cordial Bowl: O Symon, sink thy Care, and tune up thy drooping Soul; Above, the Gods bienly bouze, When round they meet in a Ring; They cast away Care, and carouse Their Nectar, while they sing. Then drink and chearfully sing, These make the Blood circle fine; Strike up the Musick, The safest Physick, Compounded with sparkling Wine.

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ON

The Great Eclipse of the

S U N, The 22d April, nine a Clock of the Morning, wrote a Month before it hapned, March 1715.262 Now do I press among the learned Throng, To tell a great Eclipse in little Song. N.B. The Order of Time in placing some of my Manuscript Poems, with Regard to them formerly printed, is not observed in some few of the following, but their Dates shall be given.

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On the great Eclipse of the Sun At me not Scheme, not Demonstration ask, That is our Gregory’s, or fam’d Hally’s Task:263 ’Tis they who are conversant with each Star, Who know how Planets Planets Rays debar. This to pretend my Muse is not so bold, She only echoes what she has been told.

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Our rolling Globe will scarce have made the Sun264 Seem half way up Olympus to have run, 10 When Night’s pale Queen in her oft changed Way, Will intercept in direct Line his Way, And make black Night usurp the Throne of Day. The curious will attend that Hour with Care, And wish no Clouds may hover in the Air, 15 To dark the Medium, and obstruct from Sight The gradual Motion and Decay of Light, Whilst thoughtless Fools will view the Water Pale, To see which of the Planets will prevail: For then they think the Sun and Moon make War, 20 Thus Nurses Tales oftimes the Judgment mar.

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When this strange Darkness overshades the Plains, ’Twill give an odd Surprise t’ unwarned Swains, Plain honest Hinds, who do not know the Cause, Nor know of Orbs, their Motions or their Laws, 25 Will from the half plough’d Furrows homeward bend, In dire Confusion, judging that the End Of Time approacheth; thus possest with Fear, They’ll think the general Conflagration near. The Traveler benighted on the Road 30 Will turn devout, and supplicate his God. Cocks with their careful Mates and younger Fry, As if’t were Evening, to their Roosts will fly. The horned Cattle will forget to feed, And come home lowing from the grassie Mead. 35 Each Bird of Day will to his Nest repair, And leave to Bats and Owls the dusky Air. The Lark and little Robin’s softer Lay Will not be heard till the Return of Day. Now this will be great Part of Europe’s Case, 40 While Phebe’s as a Mask on Phœbus’ Face. The unlearn’d Clowns, who don’t our Æra know, From this dark Friday will their Ages show; As I have often heard old Country Men Talk of dark Munday, and their Ages then. 45 4. Our Gregory’s ] Mr. Gregory Professor of Mathematicks in Edinburgh. Famed Hally Fellow of the Royal Society, London. 9. Rolling Globe ] According to the Capernicon System.

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Poems Not long shall last this strange uncommon Gloom When Light dispels the Ploughman’s Fear of Doom; With merry Heart he’ll lift his ravish’d Sight Up to the Heavens, and welcome back the Light. How just’s the Motions of these whirling Spheres! Which ne’er can err while Time is met by Years. How vast is little Man’s capacious Soul! That knows how Orbs throw Weilds of Æther roll. How great’s the Power of that Omnifick Hand! Who gave them Motion by his wise Command, That they should not while Time had Being stand.

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The Gentleman’s Qualifications, as debated by some of the Fellows of the Easy Club, April 1715.265

From different Ways of Thinking comes Debate, This we despise, and That we over-rate, Just as the Fancy takes, we love or hate. Hence Whig and Tory live in endless Jarr, And most of Families in Civil War: 5 Hence ’mongst the easiest Men beneath the Skies, Even in their easy Dome, Debates arise: As late they did with Strength of Judgment scan These Qualities that form a Gentleman. First Tippermaloch pled with Spanish Grace 10 That Gentry only sprung from antient Race, Whose Names in old Records of Time were fix’d, In whose rich Veins some royal Blood was mixt. I being a Poet sprung from a Douglass’ Loin, In this proud Thought did with the Doctor join; 15 With this Addition, if they could speak Sense, Ambitious I, ah! had no more Pretence. Buchanan, with stiff Argument and bold, Pled Gentry took its Birth from powerful Gold. Him Hector Boece join’d, they argued strong, 20 Said they, to Wealth that Title must belong; If Men are rich, they’re gentle, and if not You’ll own their Birth and Sense are soon forgot. Pray say, said they, How much respectful Grace

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Easy Club ] A juvenile Society, of which I am a Fellow, from the general Antipathy we all seem’d to have at the ill Humor and Contradictions which arise from Trifles, especially those which constitute Whig and Tory, without having the grand Reason for it; this engaged us to take a Pleasure in the Sound of an Easy Club. The Club, by one of our special Laws, must not exceed Twelve, and any Gentleman at his Admission was to take the Name of some Scots Author, or one eminent for something extraordinary, for obscuring his real Name in the Register of our Lubrications, such as are nam’d in this Debate, Tippermaloch, Buchanan, Hector Boece, &c.

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The Gentleman's Qualifications Demands an old red Coat and mangled Face? Or one, if he could like an Angel preach, If he to no rich Benefice can reach? Ev’n Progeny of Dukes are at a Stand How to make out bare Gentry without Land. But still the Doctor would not quit the Field, But that rich Upstarts should to Birth-right yeild; He grew more stiff, nor would the Plea let go, Said he was right, and swore it should be so. But happy we, who have such wholsome Laws, Which without Pleading can decide a Cause. To this good Law Recourse we had at last, That throws off Wrath, and makes our Friendship fast; In which the Legislators laid the Plot, To end all Controversy by a Vote. Yet that we more good Humor might display, We frankly turn’d the Vote another Way, As in each Thing we common Topicks shun, So the great Prize, nor Birth nor Riches won. The Vote was carried thus, That easy he Who should three Years a social Fellow be, And to our Easy Club give no Offence, After Triennial Tryal, should commence A Gentleman, which gives as just a Claim To that great Title, as the Blast of Fame Can give to them who trade in humane Gore, Or those who heap up Hoords of coined Ore; Since in our social Friendship nought’s design’d But what may raise and brighten up the Mind; We aiming closs to walk by Virtue’s Rules, To find true Honour’s self, and leave her Shade to Fools.

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On W I T. My easy Friends, since ye think fit This Night to lucubrate on Wit; And since ye judge that I compose266 My Thoughts in Rhime better than Prose, I’ll give my Judgment in a Sang, And here it comes be’t right or wrang. But first of a’ I’ll tell a Tale. That with my Case runs paralel.

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Poems There was a manting Lad in Fife, Wha cou’d na for his very Life 10 Speak without stammering very lang, Yet never manted when he sang. His Father’s Kiln he anes saw burning, Which gart the Lad run Breathless mourning; Hameward with cliver Strides he lap, 15 To tell his Dady his Mishap. At Distance e’er he reach’d the Door, He stood and rais’d a hideous Roar. His Father when he heard his Voice, Stept out and said, Why a’ this Noise? 20 The Calland gap’d and glowr’d about, But no ae Word could he lug out. His Dad cry’d, kening his Defect, Sing, sing, or I shall break your Neck. Then soon he gratifi’d his Sire, 25 And sang aloud, Your Kiln’s a Fire. Now ye’ll allow there’s Wit in that, To tell a Tale sae very pat. Bright Wit appears in mony a Shape, Which some invent and others ape. Some shaw their Wit in wearing Claiths, And some in coining of new Aiths; There’s crambo Wit in making Rhime, And dancing Wit in beating Time: There’s metl’d Wit in Story-telling, In writing Grammar, and right spelling: Wit shines in Knowledge of Politicks, And wow! what Wit’s amang the Criticks. So far my Mates excuse me while I play In Strains ironick with that heavenly Ray, Rays which the humane Intelects refine, And makes the Man with brillant Lustre shine, Marking him sprung from Origine divine. Yet may a well rig’d Ship be full of Flaws, So may loose Wits regard no sacred Laws: That Ship the Waves will soon to Pieces shake, So ’midst his Vices sinks the witty Rake. But when on First-rate-virtues Wit attends, It both itself and Virtue recommends, And challenges Respect where e’er its Blaze extends.

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On Friendship ON

F R I E N D S H I P. The Earth-born Clod who hugs his Idol Pelf, His only Friends are Mammon and himself: The drunken Sots, who want the Art to think, Still cease from Friendship when they cease from Drink. The empty Fop, who scarce for Man will pass, 5 Ne’er sees a Friend but when he views his Glass. Friendship first springs from Sympathy of Mind, Which to complete the Virtues all combine, And only found ’mongst Men who can espy, The Merits of his Friend without Envy. 10 Thus all pretending Friendship’s but a Dream, Whose Base is not reciprocal Esteem.

K E I T H A: A

P A S T O R A L, Lamenting the Death of the Right Honourable

MARY Countess of Wigtoun.

RINGAN. O’er ilka Thing a gen’ral Sadness hings! The Burds wi’ Melancholy droop their Wings; My Sheep and Kye neglect to moup their Food, And seem to think as in a dumpish Mood. Hark how the Winds souch mournfu’ throu’ the Broom, The very Lift puts on a heavy Gloom: My Neibour Colin too, he bears a Part, His Face speaks out the Sairness of his Heart; Tell, tell me Colin, for my bodding Thought, A Bang of Fears into my Breast has brought,

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COLIN. Where hast thou been thou Simpleton, wha speers The Cause of a’ our Sorrow and our Tears? Wha unconcern’d can hear the common Skaith The Warld receives by lovely Keitha’s Death? The bonniest Sample of what’s good and kind; Fair was her Make, and heav’nly was her Mind. But now this sweetest Flower of a’ our Plain, Leaves us to sigh, tho a’ our Sighs are vain; For never mair she’ll grace the heartsome Green, Ay heartsome when she deign’d there to be seen.

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COLIN. Ah! wha cou’d tell the Beauties of her Face, Her Mouth that never op’d but wi’ a Grace; 40 Her Een which did with heav’nly Sparkles low, Her modest Cheek flush’d with a rosie Glow, Her fair brent Brow, smooth as the unrunkled Deep, When a’ the Winds are in their Caves asleep: Her Presence like a Simmer’s Morning Ray, 45 Lighten’d our Hearts, and gart ilk Place look gay. Now twin’d of Life, these Charms look cauld and blae, And what before gave Joy, now makes us wae. Her Goodness shin’d in ilka pious Deed, — A Subject, Ringan, for a lofty Reed! 50 A Shepherd’s Sang maun sic high Thoughts decline, Lest rustick Notes should darken what’s divine. Youth, Beauty, Graces, a’ that’s good and fair Lament, for lovely Keitha is nae mair. RINGAN. How tenderly she smooth’d our Master’s Mind, When round his manly Waist her Arms she twin’d, And look’d a Thousand saft Things to his Heart, While native Sweetness sought nae Help frae Art. To him her Merit still appear’d mair bright, As yielding she own’d his superior Right. Baith fast and sound he slept within her Arms,

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32. Worthy that noble Race ] She was Daughter to the late Earl Marishal, the third of that honourable Rank of Nobility.

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Keitha: A Pastoral Gay were his Dreams, the Influence of her Charms. Soon as the Morning dawn’d he’d draw the Screen, And watch the op’ning of her fairer Een; Whence sweetest Rays gusht out in sic a Thrang, 65 Beyond Expression in my rural Sang. COLIN. O Clementina! sprouting fair Remains Of her, wha was the Glory of our Plains. Dear Innocence with Infant Darkness blest, Which hides the Happiness that thou hast mist. May a’ thy Mither’s Sweets thy Portion be, And a’ thy Mither’s Graces shine in thee.

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RINGAN. She loot us ne’er gae hungry to the Hill, And a’ she gae, she geed it wi’ good Will; Fow mony, mony a ane will mind that Day 75 On which frae us she’s tane sae soon away, Baith Hynds and Herds, wha’s Cheeks bespake nae Scant, And throu’ the Howms could whistle, sing and rant, Will miss her sair, till happily they find Anither in her Place sae good and kind. 80 The Lasses wha did at her Graces mint, Ha’e by her Death their bonniest Pattern tint. O ilka ane who did her Bounty skair, Lament, for gen’rous Keitha is nae mair. COLIN. O Ringan, Ringan! Things gang sae uneven, 85 I canna well take up the Will of Heav’n. Our Crosses teughly last us mony a Year, But unco soon our Blessings disappear. RINGAN. I’ll tell thee Colin my last Sunday’s Note, I tented well Mess Thamas ilka Jot. The Powers aboon are cautious as they’re just, And dinna like to gi’e o’er meikle Trust To this unconstant Earth, with what’s divine, Lest in laigh Damps they should their Lustre tine. Sae let’s leave aff our Murmuring and Tears, And never value Life by Length of Years. But as we can in Goodness it employ, Syne wha dies first, first gains eternal Joy. Come, Colin, dight your Cheeks and banish Care, Our Lady’s happy, tho with us nae mair.

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Poems To the Right Honourable,

The Town-Council of EDINBURGH, THE

ADDRESS of Allan Ramsay. Your Poet humbly means and shaws, That contrair to just Rights and Laws I’ve suffer’d muckle Wrang By Lucky Reid, and Ballad Singers,268 Wha thum’d with their coarse dirty Fingers Sweet Edie’s Funeral-Sang. They spoil’d my Sense and staw my Cash, My Muses Pride murgully’d, And printing it like their vile Trash, The honest Lieges whilly’d. Thus undone, to London269 It gade to my Disgrace, Sae pimpin and limpin In Rags wi’ bluther’d Face. Yet Gleg-eyed Friends throw the Disguise Receiv’d it as a dainty Prize For a’ it was sae hav’ren, Gart Lintot take it to his Press, And clead it in a braw new Dress, Syne took it to the Tavern. But tho it was made clean and braw, Sae sair it had been knoited, It blather’d Buff before them a’,270 And aftentimes turn’d doited. It griev’d me and reav’d me Of kindly Sleep and Rest, By Carlings and Gorlings To be sae sair opprest. Wherefore to You ne’er kend to guide ill, But wisely had the good Town’s Bridle, My Case I plainly tell, And, as your ain, plead I may have271

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4. Lucky Reid ] A Printers Relict, who with the Hawkers Re-printed my Pastoral on Mr. Addison, without my Knowledge on ugly Paper, full of Errors. 11. To London ] One of their incorrect Copies was re-printed at London by Bernard Lintot in Folio first, before he printed it a second Time from a correct Copy of my own, with the honourable Mr. Burchet’s English Version of it. 23. Blether’d Buff ] Spoke Nonsense, from Words being wanting, and many wrong spell’d and changed, such as, gras for gars, Praise for Phrase, &c. 32. As your ain ] A free Citizen.

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Address to the Council of Edinburgh Your Words of Weight, when now I crave272 To guide my Gear my sell. Then clean and fair the Type shall be, 35 The Paper like the Snaw, Nor shall our Town think Shame wi’ me, When we gang far awa. What’s wanted if granted Beneath your honour’d Wing. 40 Baith hantily and cantily Your Supplicant shall sing. Inscription on the Gold Tea-pot, gain’d by Sir James Cunningham of Milncraig, Bart. After the gaining Edinburgh’s Prize The Day before with running thrice, Me Milncraig’s Rock most fairly won, When thrice again the Course he run: Now for Diversion ’tis my Share To run three Heats, and please the Fair.

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Inscription engraven on the Piece of Plate, which was a Punch-Bowl and Ladle, given by the Captains of the Train’d-Bands of Edinburgh, and gain’d by Captain Ch. Crockat’s Swallow. Charge me with the Nants and limpid Spring, Let sowr and sweet be mixt, Bend round a Health syne to the King, To Edinburgh’s Captains next, Wha form’d me in sae blyth a Shape, And gave me lasting Honours, Take up my Ladle fill and lape, And say, Fairfa’ the Donors.

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33. Your Word of Weight ] To interpose their just Authority in my Favour, and grant me an Act to ward off these little Pirates, which I gratefully acknowledge Receipt of.

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Poems TO THE

Whin=Bush Club,

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THE

B I L L Of ALLAN RAMSAY. Of Crawfurd-Moor, born in Leadhill,274 Where Min’ral Springs Glengoner fill,275 Which joins sweet flowing Clyde, Between auld Crawfurd-Lindsay’s Towers, And where Deneetne rapid pours 5 His Stream thro’ Glotta’s Tide; Native of Clydesdale’s upper Ward, Bred Fifteen Summers there, Tho, to my Loss I’m no a Laird By Birth, my Title’s fair 10 To bend wi’ ye and spend wi’ ye An Evening, and guffaw, If Merit and Spirit Be found without a Flaw. Since dously ye do nought at Random, 15 Then take my Bill to Avisandum; And if there’s nae Objection, I’ll deem’t my Honour and be glad To come beneath your Whin-Bush Shade, And claim to its Protection. 20 If frae the Caverns of a Head That’s boss, a Storm should blaw, Etling wi’ Spite to rive my Reed, And give my Muse a Fa’, When poring and soaring 25 O’er Heleconian Heights, She traces these Places Where Cynthius delights.

Whin-Bush ] This Club consists of Clydesdale-Shire Gentlemen, who frequently meet at a diverting Hour, and keep up a good Understanding amongst themselves over a friendly Botle. And from a charitable Principle, easily collect into their Treasurer’s Box a small Fond [sic], which has many a time relieved the Distress of indigent Persons of that Shire. 1. Lead hill ] In the Parish of Crawfurd-Moor, famous for the Lead and Gold Mines belonging to the Earl of Hoptoun. 2. Glengoner ] The Name of a small River, which takes its Rise from the Lead-hills, and enters Clyde between the Castle of Crawfurd and the Mouth of Deneetne, another of the Branches of Clyde.

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An Epistle to Mr. Arbuckle AN

EPISTLE TO Mr. James Arbuckle of Belfast, AM. Edinburgh, January 1719.

As Errant Knight with Sword and Pistol, Bestrides his Steed with mighty Fistle; Then stands some Time in jumbled Swither To ride in this Road or that ither; At last spurs on, and disna care for A how, a what Way, or a wherefore. Or like extemporary Quaker, Wasting his Lungs, t’ enlighten weaker Lanthorns of Clay, where Light is wanting, With formless Phrase, and formal Canting; While Jacob Behmen’s Salt does season,276 And saves his Thought frae corrupt Reason, Gowling aloud with Motions queerest, Yerking these Words out which ly nearest.

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Thus I (no longer to illustrate 15 With Similies, lest I should frustrate Design Laconick of a Letter, With Heap of Language and no Matter,) Bang’d up my blyth auld-fashion’d Whistle, To sowf ye o’er a short Epistle, 20 Without Rule, Compasses, or Charcoal, Or serious Study in a dark Hole. Three Times I ga’e the Muse a Rug, Then bate my Nails and claw’d my Lug; Still heavy, at the last my Nose 25 I prim’d with an inspiring Dose,277 Then did Ideas dance, (dear safe us!) As they’d been daft. — Here ends the Preface. Good Mr. James Arbuckle, Sir, (That’s Merchant’s Stile, as clean as Fir) Ye’re welcome back to Caledonie,278 Lang Life and thriving light upon ye, Harvest, Winter, Spring and Summer, And ay keep up your heartsome Humor,

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11. Jacob Behmen ] A Quaker, who wrote Volumes of unintelligibile enthusiastick Bombast. 26. Inspiring Dose ] Vide Mr. Arbuckle’s Poem on Snuff. 31. Welcome back ] Having been in his Native Ireland visiting his Friends.

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Poems That ye may thro’ your lucky Task go, Of brushing up our Sister Glasgow; Where Lads are dextrous at improving, And docile Lasses fair and loving: But never tent these Fellows Girning, Wha wear their Faces ay in Mourning, And frae pure Dullness are malicious, Terming ilk Turn that’s witty, vicious.

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Now, Jamie, in neist Place, Secundo, To give you what’s your Due in mundo; That is to say in hame o’er Phrases, 45 To tell ye, Men of Mettle praises Ilk Verse of yours when they can light on’t, And trouth I think they’re in the right on’t; For there’s ay something sae auldfarran, Sae slid, sae unconstrain’d and darrin, 50 In ilka Sample we have seen yet, That little better e’er has been yet. Sae much for that. — My Friend Arbuckle, I ne’er afore roos’d ane sae muckle. Fause Flat’ry nane but Fools will tickle, 55 That gars me hate it like auld Nicol: But when ane’s of his Merit conscious, He’s in the wrang, when prais’d, that glunshes. Thirdly, Not tether’d to Connection, But rattling by inspir’d Direction, 60 When ever Fame, with Voice like Thunder, Sets up a Chield a Warld’s Wonder, Either for slashing Fowk to dead, Or having Wind-mills in his Head, Or Poet, or an airy Beau, 65 Or ony twa Leg’d Rary-show, They wha have never seen’t are bissy To speer what like a Carlie is he. Imprimis then, for Tallness I Am five Foot and four Inches high: 70 A Black-a-vic’d snod dapper Fallow, Nor lean, nor overlaid wi’ Tallow. With Phiz of a Morocco Cut, Resembling a late Man of Wit, Auld-gabbet Spec, wha was sae Cunning279 75 To be a Dummie ten Years running. Then for the Fabrick of my Mind, 75. Auld-gabbet Spec ] The Spectator, who gives us a fictitious Description of his short Face and Taciturnity, that he had been esteem’d a dumb Man for ten Years.

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An Epistle to Mr. Arbuckle ’Tis mair to Mirth than Grief inclin’d. I rather choose to laugh at Folly, Than show Dislike by Melancholy; Well judging a sowr heavy Face Is not the truest Mark of Grace.

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I hate a Drunkard or a Glutton, Yet am nae Fae to Wine and Mutton. Great Tables ne’er engag’d my Wishes, 85 When crowded with o’er mony Dishes, A healthfu’ Stomach sharply set Prefers a Back-sey pipin het. I never cou’d imagin’t vicious Of a fair Fame to be ambitious: 90 Proud to be thought a comick Poet, And let a Judge of Numbers know it, I court Occasion thus to show it.

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Second of thirdly, — pray take heed, Ye’s get a short Swatch of my Creed. 95 To follow Method negatively Ye ken takes Place of positively. Well then, I’m nowther Whig nor Tory, Nor Credit give to Purgatory. Transub, Loretta-house, and mae Tricks, 100 As Prayers to Saints, Katties and Patricks; Nor Asgilite, nor Bess Clarksonian,280 Nor Mountaineer, nor Mugletonian;281 Nor can believe, ant’s nae great Ferly, In Cotmoor Fowk, and Andrew Harley.282 105 Neist Anti-Tolland, Blunt and Wh—, Know positively I’m a Christian, Believing Truths and thinking free, Wishing thrawn Parties wad agree.

103. Nor Asgilite ] Mr. Asgil a late Member of Parliament advanced (whether in Jest or Earnest I know not) some very whimsical Opinions, particularly, That People need not die if they pleas’d, but be translated alive to Heaven like Enoch and Elijah. Clerksonian, Bessy Clarkson a Lanerk-Shire Woman. Vide the History of her Life and Principles. 104. Mountaineer ] Our wild Folks, who always prefer a Hill-side to a Church under any civil Authority. Mugletonian, A kind of Quakers, so called from on Mugleton. See Leslie’s Snake in the Grass. 105. Cotmoor Fowk ] A Family or two who had a particular Religion of their own, valued themselves on using vain Repetitions in Prayers of 6 or 7 Hours long; were pleased with Ministers of no kind. Andrew Harley a dull Fellow of no Education was Head of the Party.

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Poems 110 Say, wad ye ken my gate of Fending, My Income, Management, and Spending? Born to nae Lairdship, mair’s the Pity! Yet Denison of this fair City. I make what honest Shift I can, And in my ain House am Good-man, 115 Which stands on Edinburgh’s Street the Sun-side, I theek the out, and line the Inside Of mony a douse and witty Pash, And baith Ways gather in the Cash; Thus heartily I graze and beau it, 120 And keep a Wife ay great wi’ Poet. Contented I have sic a Skair, As does my Business to a Hair, And fain wa’d prove to ilka Scot That Poortith’s no the Poet’s Lot. 125 Fourthly and lastly baith together, Pray let us ken when ye come hither; There’s mony a canty Carle and me Wa’d be much comforted to see ye. But if your outward be Refractory, 130 Send us your inward Manufactory. That when we’re kedgy o’er our Claret, We correspond may with your Spirit. Accept of my kind Wishes, with The same to Dons Buttler and Smith; 135 Health Wit and Joy, Sauls large and free, Be a’ your Fates, — sae God be wi’ ye.

To the Right Honourable,

WILLIAM

Earl of Dalhousie. Mæcenas atavis edite Regibus, Horace. Dalhousie of an auld Descent, My Chief, my Stoup and Ornament, For Entertainment a wee while, Accept this Sonnet with a Smile; Setting great Horace in my View, 5 He to Mecenas, I to you: But that my Muse may sing with Ease, I’ll keep or drap him as I please.

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To the Earl of Dalhousie How differently are Fowk inclin’d, There’s hardly twa of the same Mind; 10 Some like to study, some to play, Some on the Links to win the Day, And gar the Courser rin like wood, A’ drapin down with Sweat and Blood: The Winner syne assumes a Look 15 Might gain a Monarch or a Duke. Neist view the Man with pauky Face Has mounted to a fashous Place, Inclin’d by an o’er-ruling Fate, He’s pleas’d with his uneasy State: 20 Glowr’d at a while, he gangs fou braw, Till frae his kittle Post he fa’. The Lothian Farmer he likes best To be of good faugh Riggs possest, And fen upon a frugal Stock, 25 Where his Forbeers had us’d the Yoke: Nor is he fond to leave his Wark, And venture in a rotten Bark, Syne unto far aff Countries steer On tumbling Waves to gather Gear. 30 The Merchant wreck’d upon the Main Swears he’ll ne’er venture on’t again; That he had rather live on Cakes, And shyrest Swats, with Landart Maiks, As rin the Risk by Storms to have, 35 When he is dead, a living Grave. But Seas turn smooth, and he grows fain, And fairly takes his Word again: Tho he shou’d to the Bottom sink, Of Poverty he downa think. 40 Some like to laugh their Time away, To dance while Pipes or Fidles play, And have nae Sense of ony Want As lang as they can drink and rant. The rat’ling Drum and Trumpet’s Tout 45 Delight young Swankies that are stout: What his kind frighted Mother ugs, Is Musick to the Soger’s Lugs. The Hunter with his Hounds and Hawks Bangs up afore his Wife awakes; 50 Nor speers gin she has ought to say, But scowrs o’er Highs and Hows a’ Day, Throw Moss and Moor, nor does he care 203

Poems Whither the Day be foul or fair, If he his trusty Hounds can chear 55 To hunt the Tod or drive the Deer. May I be happy in my Lays, And won a lasting Wreath of Bays, Is a’ my Wish; well pleas’d to sing Beneath a Tree, or by a Spring, 60 While Lads and Lasses on the Mead Attend my Caledonian Reed, And with the sweetest Notes rehearse My Thoughts, and roose me for my Verse. If you, my Lord, class me amang Those who have sung baith saft and strang, Of smiling Love or doughty Deed, To Starns sublime I’ll lift my Head.

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Horace to Virgil, on his taking a Voyage to Athens. Sic te diva potens Cypri, — O Cyprian Goddess twinkle clear, And Helen’s Brithers ay appear; Ye Stars wha shed a lucky Light, Auspicious ay keep in a Sight; King Eol grant a tydie Tirl, 5 But boast the Blast that rudely whirl; Dear Ship be canny with your Care, At Athens land my Virgil fair, Syne soon and safe, baith Lith and Spaul, Bring hame the tae haff o’ my Saul. 10 Daring and unco stout he was, With Heart hool’d in three Sloughs of Brass, Wha ventur’d first on the rough Sea, With hempen Branks and Horse of Tree: Wha on the weak Machine durst ride 15 Throu’ Tempests, and a rairing Tide; Nor clinty Craigs, nor Hurrycane, That drives the Adriatick Main, And gars the Ocean gowl and quake, Cou’d e’er a Soul sae sturdy make. 20 The Man wha cou’d sic Rubs win o’er, Without a Wink at Death might glowr, Wha unconcern’d can take his Sleep Amang the Monsters of the Deep. 204

Horace to Virgil Jove vainly twin’d the Sea and Eard, 25 Since Mariners are not afraid. With Laws of Nature to dispence, And impiously treat Providence. Audacious Men at nought will stand When vicious Passions have command. 30 Prometheus ventur’d up and staw A lowan Coal frae Heav’ns high Ha’; Unsonsy Thift, which Feavers brought In Bikes, which Fowk like Sybous hought: Then Death erst slaw began to ling, 35 And fast as Haps to dart his Sting. Neist Dedalus must contradict Nature forsooth, and Feathers stick Upon his Back, syne upward streek, And in at Jove’s high Winnocks keek, 40 While Hercules, wi’s Timber Mell, Plays rap upo’ the Yates of Hell. What is’t Man winna ettle at? E’en wi’ the Gods he’ll bell the Cat: Tho Jove be very Laith to kill, They winna let his Bowt ly still.

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An ODE to Mr. F----. Solvitur acris hiems —— Horace. Now Gowans sprout and Lavrocks sing, And welcome West Winds warm the Spring, O’er Hill and Dale they saftly blaw, And drive the Winter’s Cauld awa. The Ships lang gyzen’d at the Peer Now spread their Sails and smoothly steer, The Nags and Nowt hate wissen’d Strae, And frisking to the Fields they gae, Nor Hynds wi’ Elson and hemp Lingle, Sit solling Shoon out o’er the Ingle. Now bonny Haughs their Verdure boast, That late were clade wi’ Snaw and Frost, With her gay Train the Paphian Queen By Moon-light dances on the Green, She leads while Nymphs and Graces sing, And trip around the Fairy Ring. Mean Time poor Vulcan hard at Thrift, Gets mony a sair and heavy Lift, Whilst rinnen down, his haff-blind Lads 205

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Poems Blaw up their Fire, and thump the Gads.

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Now leave your Fitsted on the Dew, And busk ye’r sell in Habit new. Be gratefu’ to the guiding Powers, And blythly spend your easy Hours. O kanny F—! tutor Time, 25 And live as lang’s ye’r in your Prime; That ill bred Death has nae Regard To King or Cottar, or a Laird, As soon a Castle he’ll attack, As Waus of Divots roof’s wi’ Thack. 30 Immediately we’ll a’ take Flight Unto the mirk Realms of Night, As Stories gang, with Gaists to roam, In gloumie Pluto’s gousty Dome; Bid fair Good-day to Pleasure syne 35 Of bonny Lasses and red Wine. Then deem ilk little Care a Crime, Dares waste an Hour of precious Time; And since our Life’s sae unko short, Enjoy it a’, ye’ve nae mair for’t.

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To the Ph---- an ODE. Vides ut alta stet nive candidum Soracte.— Horace. Look up to Pentland’s towring Taps, Buried beneath great Wreaths of Snaw, O’er ilka Cleugh, ilk Scar and Slap, As high as ony Roman Wa’. Driving their Baws frae Whins or Tee, 5 There’s no ae Gowfer to be seen, Nor dousser Fowk wysing a Jee The Byass Bouls on Tamson’s Green. Then fling on Coals, and ripe the Ribs, And beek the House baith Butt and Ben, 10 That Mutchken Stoup it hads but Dribs, Then let’s get in the tappit Hen. Good Claret best keeps out the Cauld, And drives away the Winter soon, It makes a Man baith gash and bauld, And heaves his Saul beyond the Moon. 206

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To the Ph---- an Ode Leave to the Gods your ilka Care, If that they think us worth their While, They can a Rowth of Blessings spare, Which will our fashious Fears beguile. 20 For what they have a Mind to do, That will they do, should we gang wood, If they command the Storms to blaw, Then upo’ sight the Hailstains thud. But soon as e’er they cry, Bequiet, 25 The blatt’ring Winds dare nae mair move, But cour into their Caves, and wait The high Command of supreme Jove. Let neist Day come as it thinks fit, The present Minute’s only ours, 30 On Pleasure let’s imploy our Wit, And laugh at Fortune’s feckless Power. Be sure ye dinna quat the Grip Of ilka Joy when ye are young, Before auld Age your Vitals nip, 35 And lay ye twafald o’er a Rung. Sweet Youth’s a blyth and heartsome Time, Then Lads and Lasses while it’s May, Gae pou the Gowan in its Prime, Before it wither and decay. 40 Watch the saft Minutes of Delyte, When Jenny speaks beneath her Breath, And kisses, laying a the Wyte On you if she kepp ony Skaith. Haith ye’re ill bred, she’ll smiling say, Ye’ll worry me ye greedy Rook; Syne frae your Arms she’ll rin away, And hide her sell in some dark Nook:

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Her Laugh will lead you to the Place Where lies the Happiness ye want, 50 And plainly tells you to your Face, Nineteen Nay-says are haff a Grant. Now to her heaving Bosom cling, And sweetly toolie for a Kiss, Frae her fair Finger whop a Ring, 55 As Taiken of a future Bliss. 207

Poems These Bennisons, I’m very sure, Are of the Gods indulgent Grant; Then surly Carles, whisht, forbear To plague us with your whining Cant. 60

To Mr. William Aikman. ’Tis granted, Sir, Pains may be spar’d Your Merit to set forth, When there’s sae few wha claim Regard, That disna ken your Worth. Yet Poets give immortal Fame 5 To Mortals that excel, Which if neglected they’re to blame; But you’ve done that your sell. While frae Originals of yours Fair Copies shall be tane, 10 And fix’d on Brass to busk our Bow’rs, Your Mem’ry shall remain. To your ain Deeds the maist deny’d, Or of a Taste o’er fine, Maybe ye’re, but o’er right, afraid 15 To sink in Verse like mine. The last can ne’er the Reason prove, Else wherefore with good Will Do ye my nat’ral Lays approve, And help me up the Hill?

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By your Assistance unconstrain’d To Courts I can repair, And by your Art my Way I’ve gain’d To Closets of the Fair. Had I a Muse like lofty Pope, 25 For touring Numbers fit, Then I the ingenious Mind might hope In truest Light to hit. But comick Tale and Sonnet slee Are coosten for my Share, And if in these I bear the Gree, I’ll think it very fair.

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Spoken to three young Ladies Spoken to three young Ladies, who would have me determine which of them was the bonniest. Me anes three Beauties did surround, And ilka Beauty gave a Wound, Whilst they with smiling Eye, Said, Allan, which think ye maist fair? Gi’e Judgement frankly, never spare. Hard is the Task said I: But added, seeing them sae free, Ladies ye maun say mair to me, And my Demand right fair is; First, like the gay Celestial Three, Shaw a’ your Charms, and then ha’e wi’ ye, Faith I shall be your Paris.

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TO

S William Bennet ir

Of Grubbet, Bart.

While now in Discord giddy Changes reel, And some are rack’d about on Fortunes Wheel, You with undaunted Stalk, and Brow serene, May trace your Groves, and press the dewy Green; No guilty Twangs your manly Joys to wound, Or horrid Dreams to make your Sleep unsound. To such as you, who can mean Care despise, Nature’s all beautiful ’twixt Earth and Skies. Not hurried with the Thirst of unjust Gain, You can delight your self on Hill or Plain, Observing when those tender Sprouts appear, Which crowd with fragrant Sweets the youthful Year. Your lovely Scenes of Marlefield abound With as much Choise as is in Britain found: Here fairest Plants from Nature’s Bosom start From Soil prolifick, serv’d with curious Art: Here oft the heedful Gazer is beguil’d, And wanders through an artificial Wild, While native flowry Green, and christal Strands, Appear the Labours of ingenious Hands. Most happy he who can those Sweets enjoy With Taste refin’d, which does not easy cloy. Not so Plebeian Souls, whom sporting Fate Thrusts into Life upon a large Estate, While Spleen their weak Imagination sowrs, They’re at a Loss how to imploy their Hours: 209

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Poems The sweetest Plants which fairest Gardens show, Are lost to them, for them unheeded grow. Such purblind Eyes ne’er view the son’rous Page, Where shines the Raptures of poetick Rage, Nor through the Microscope can take Delight, T’ observe the Tusks and Bristles of a Mite; Nor by the lengthen’d Tub[e] learn to descry These shining Worlds which roll around the Sky. Bid such read Hist’ry to improve their Skill, Polite Excuse! Their Memories are ill. Moll’s Maps may in their Dining-rooms make show, But their Contents they’re not oblig’d to know; And gen’rous Friendship’s out of Sight too fine, They think it only means a Glass of Wine. But he whose chearful Mind hath higher Flown, And adds learn’d Thoughts of others to his own, Has seen the World, and read the Volume Man, And can the Springs and Ends of Actions scan, Has fronted Deaths in Service of his King, And drunken deep of the Castalian Spring; This Man can live, — and happiest Life’s his due, Can be a Friend, — a Virtue known to few; Yet all such Virtues strongly shine in You.

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} An EPISTLE to a Friend at Florence, in his Way to Rome. Your steady Impulse foreign Climes to view, To study Nature, and what Art can shew, I now approve, while my warm Fancy walks O’er Italy, and with your Genius talks, We trace with glowing Breast and peiercing Look The curious Galery of th’ illustrious Duke, Where all those Masters of the Arts divine, With Pencils, Pens, and Chizels greatly Shine, Immortalizing the Augustan Age, On Medals, Canvas, Stone, or writen Page. Profiles and Busts Originals express, And antique Scrols, old e’er we knew the Press. For’s Love to Science, and each virtuous Scot, May Days unnumber’d be great Cosmus’ Lot. The sweet Hesperian Fields you’ll next explore, ’Twixt Arnus’ Banks and Tiber’s fertile Shore. Now, now I wish my Organs could keep Pace, With my fond Muse and you these Plains to trace, We’d enter Rome with an uncommon Taste, 210

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Epistle to a Friend at Florence And feed our Minds on every famous Waste; Amphitheaters, Columns, Royal Tombs, Triumphal Arches, Ruines of vast Domes, Old aerial Aqueducts, and strong pav’d Roads, Which seem to’ve been not wrought by Men but Gods.

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These view’d, we’d then survey with outmost Care 25 What modern Rome produces fine or rare, Where Buildings rise with all the Strength of Art, Proclaiming their great Architect’s Desert, Which Citron Shades surround and Jessamin, And all the Soul of Raphael shines within: 30 Then we’d regale our Ears with sounding Notes, Which warble tuneful thro’ the beardless Throats, Join’d with the vib’rating harmonious Strings, And breathing Tubes, while-the soft Eunoch sings. Of all those Dainties take a hearty Meal; 35 But let your Resolution still prevail, Return before your Pleasure grow a Toil, To longing Friends, and your own native Soil: Preserve your Health, your Virtue still improve, Hence you’ll invite Protection from above. 40

The beautiful Rose Tree enclosed. With Awe and Pleasure we behold thy Sweets, Thy lovely Roses have their pointed Guards, Yet tho the Gath’rer Opposition meets, The fragrant Purchase all his Pain rewards. But hedg’d about and watch’d with warry Eyes, 5 O Plant superior, beautiful and fair, We view thee like yon Stars which gem the Skies, But equally to gain we must despair. Ah! wert thou growing on some secret Plain, And found by me, how ravisht would I meet All thy transporting Charms to ease my Pain, And feast my raptur’d Soul on all that’s sweet. Thus sung poor Symon: Symon was in love, His too aspiring Passion made him smart; The Rose Tree was a Mistress far above The Shepherd’s Hope, which broke his tender Heart.

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To R--- H--- B---, an ODE. Nullam Vare sacra vite prius severis arborem, Circa mite solum Tiburis & mænia Catili.

Hor.

O B----, cou’d these Fields of thine Bear as in Gaul the juice Vine, How sweet the bonny Grape wou’d shine On Wau’s where now, Your Apricocks and Peaches fine 5 Their Branches bow. Since humane Life is but a Blink, Why should we its short Joys sink; He disna live that canna link The Glass about, 10 When warm’d with Wine, like Men we think, And grow mair stout. The cauldrife Carlies clog’d wi’ Care, Wha gathering Gear gang hyt and gare, If ramn’d we red, they rant and rair 15 Like mirthfu’ Men, It soothly shaws them they can spare, A rowth to spend. What Soger when with Wine he’s bung Did e’er complain he had been dung, 20 Or of his Toil, or empty Spung, Na, o’er his Glass, Nought but braw Deeds imploy his Tongue, Or some sweet Lass. Yet Trouth, ’tis proper we should stint 25 Our sells to a fresh mod’rate Pint, Why should we (the blyth Blessing) mint To waist or spill, Since, aften, when our Reason’s tint We may do ill. 30 Let’s set these Hair-brain’d Fowk in View, That when they’re stupid, mad and fow Do brutal Deeds, which aft they rue For a’ their Days, Which frequently prove very few 35 To such as these. Then let us grip our Bliss mair sicker, And tape our Heal, and sprightly Liquor, 212

To R--- H--- B--- an Ode Which sober tane makes Wit the quicker, And Sense mair keen, 40 While graver Heads that’s muckle thicker Grane wi’ the Spleen. May ne’er sic wicked Fumes arise In me shall break a’ sacred Ties, And gar me like a Fool despise 45 With Stifness rude, What ever my best Friends advise Tho ne’er so good. ’Tis best then to evite the Sin Of bending till our Sauls gae blin, Lest like our Glass our Breasts grow thin, And let Fowk peep, At ilka secret hid within That we should keep.

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Clyde’s Welcome to his

P R I N C E. WHat chearful Sounds from ev’ry Side I hear, How beauteous on their Banks my Nymphs appear, Got throw these massy Mountains at my Source, O’er Rocks stupendous of my upper Course,283 To these fair Plains where I more smoothly move, 5 Throw verdant Vales to meet Evana’s Love.284 Yonder she comes beneath Dodona’s Shade, How blyth she looks! how sweet and gaylie clade; Her flowry Bounds bears all the Pride of May, While round her soft Meanders Shepherd’s play. 10 Hail lovely Naid to my Bosom large, Amidst my Stores commit thy chrystal Charge, And speak these Joys all thy Deportment shews, That to old Ocean I may have good News. With solemn Voice, thus spoke Majestick Clyde, 15 In softer Notes lov’d Evan thus reply’d. Great Glotta, long have I had Cause to mourn, While my forsaken Stream gusht from my Urn. 4. Rocks stupendous ] The River falls over several high Precipices, such as Corrah’s Lin, Stane-Byre Lin, &c. 6. Evana ] The small River Evan which joins Clyde near Hamilton.

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Poems Since my late Lord his Nation’s just Delight, Greatly lamented sunk in endless Night. His hopeful Stem our chief Desire and Boast, Expos’d to Danger on some foreign Coast, Lonely for Years, I’ve murmur’d on my Way, When dark I wept, and sight in shining Day. The Sire return’d, just Reasons for thy Pains, So long to wind through solitary Plains: Thy Loss was mine, I sympathiz’d with thee, Since one our Griefs, then share thy Joys with me. Then hear me, liquid Chiftain of the Dale, Hush all your Cat’racts, till I tell my Tale, Then rise and rore, and kiss your bord’ring Flowers, And sound our Joys around yon lordly Towers; Yon lordly Towers, which happy now contain, Our brave and youthful Prince return’d again.

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Welcome, in loudest Raptures cry’d the Flood, 35 His Welcome echo’d from each Hill and Wood; Enough Evana, long may they contain The noble Youth safely return’d again. From the green Mountain where I lift my Head,285 With my twin Brothers Annan and the Tweed, 40 To those high Arches where, as Culdees sing,286 The pious Mungo fish’d the Trout and Ring. My fairest Nymphs shall on my Margin play, And make ev’n all the Year one holy Day. The Sylvan Powers and Watches of each Hight, 45 Where Fleecy Flocks and climbing Goats delight, Shall from their Groves and rocky Mountains roam, To join with us, and sing his Welcome home. With lofty Notes we’ll sound his high Descent, His dawning Merits and heroick Bent. 50 These early Rays which stedfastly Shall shine, And add new Glories to his ancient Line. A Line ay loyal, and fir’d with generous Zeal The bravest Patrons of the Common-weal.

39. Green Mountain ] From the same Hill the Rivers Clyde, Tweed and Annan have their Rise, yet run to three different Seas, viz. the Northern Ocean, the German Ocean, and the Irish Sea. 41. High Arches ] The Bridge of Glasgow, where as its reported, St. Mungo the Patron of that City, drew up a Fish that brought him a Ring, which had been dropt; which Miracle Glasgow retains the Memory of in their Arms.

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Clyde's Welcome to his Prince From him who plung’d his Sword (so Muses sing)287 55 Deep in his Breast, who durst defame our King. We’ll sing the Fire, which in his Bosom glows To warm his Friends, and scorch his daring Foes; Endow’d with all these sweet, yet manly Charms, As fits him for the Fields of Love, or Arms. 60 Fixt in an high and independant State, Above to act, what’s little to be great. Guard him, first Power, whose Hand directs the Sun, And teaches me throw Caverns dark to run, Long may he on his own fair Plains reside, And Slight my Rival Thames, and love his Clyde.

65

On the most Honourable

The Marquess of BOWMONT’s Cutting off his Hair.

Shall Berenice’s Tresses mount the Skies, And by the Muse to shining Fame arise, Bellinda’s Lock invite the smoothest Lays Of him whose Merit Claims the British Bays, And not, dear Bowmont, beautiful and young, 5 The graceful Ringlets of thy Head be sung! How many tender Hearts thine Eyes hath pain’d! How many sighing Nymphs thy Locks have chain’d! The God of Love beheld him with Envy, And on Cyth’rea’s Lap began to cry, 10 All drench’d in Tears, O Mother help your Son! Else by a mortal Rival I’m undone; With happy Charms he incroaches on my Sway, His Beauty disconcerts the Plots I lay. When I’ve made Cloe her humble Slave admire, 15 Straight he appears and kindles new Desire; She sighs for him, and all my Art beguiles, 55. So Muses sing ] Vide the ingenious Mr. Patrick Gordon’s Account of this Illustrious Family in his Poem on the valiant Atchievements of our great King Robert, sirnamed the Bruce. beginning at this Stanza, the Prophet speaks to our Monarch. Now in thy Time, quoth he, there shall arrive A worthy Knight, that from his native Land Shall fly, because he bravely shall deprive, In glorious Fight, a Knight that shall withstand Thy Praises due, while he doth thee descrive. Yea even, this Knight, shall with victorious Hand Come here, whose Name his Seed shall eternize, And still thy virt’ous Line shall sympathize.

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Poems Whilst he, like me, commands and careless smiles. Ah me! These sable Circles of his Hair, Which wave around his Beauties red and fair, I cannot bear! Adonis would seem dim, With all his flaxen Locks, if plac’d by him. Venus reply’d, No more, my dearest Boy, Shall those inchanting Curls thy Peace destroy; For ever sep’rate they shall cease to grow, Or round his Cheek, or on his Shoulders flow; I’ll use my Slight, and make them quickly feel Their Honour’s lost by the invading Steel: I’ll turn my self in Shape of Mode and Health, And gain upon his youthful Mind by Stealth: Three Times the Sun shall not have rouz’d the Morn, E’er he consent these from him shall be shorn.

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The Promise she perform’d, but Labour vain, And still shall prove, while his bright Eyes remain; And of Revenge blind Cupid must despair, 35 As long’s the lovely Sex are grac’d with Hair; They’ll yield the conquering Glories of their Heads, To form around his Beauty easy Shades; And in Return, Thalia spaes and sings, His lop’d off Locks shall sparkle in their Rings. 40

TO SOME

Y O U N G L A D I E S Who had been displeas’d at a Gentleman’s too imprudently asserting, That to be condemn’d to perpetual Virginity was the greatest Punishment could be inflicted on any of their Sex. Whether condemn’d to a Virgin State By the superiour Powers, Would to your Sex prove cruel Fate, I’m sure it would to ours. From you the numerous Nations spring, Your Breasts our Beings save, Your Beauties make the youthful sing, And sooth the old and grave. Alas! How soon would every Wight Despise both Wit and Arms, To primitive old Chaos Night 216

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To some young Ladies We’d sink without your Charms. No more our Breath would be our Care, Were Love from us exil’d, Sent back to Heaven with all the Fair, This World would turn a Wild.

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Regardless of these sacred Tyes, Wife, Husband, Father, Son, All Government we would despise, And like wild Tygers run. 20 Then, Ladies, pardon the Mistake, And with th’ accus’d agree, I beg it for each Lover’s sake, Low bended on my Knee. And frankly with what has been said 25 By the audacious Youth, Might be your Thought, but I’m afraid It will not prove a Truth. For often, ah! you make us groan By your too cold Disdain, Then quarrel with us when we moan And rave amidst our Pain.

30

To Mr. Joseph Mitchel on the successful Representation of a Tragedy wrote by him. But Jealousie, dear Jos, which aft gives Pain To scrimpit Sauls, I own my sell right vain To see a native trusty Friend of mine, Sae brawly ’mang our bleezing Billies shine. Yes, wherefore no, shaw them the frozen North 5 Can towring Minds with heav’nly Heat bring forth; Minds that can mount with an uncommon Wing, And frae black heath’ry headed Mountains sing, As fast as he that Haughs Hesperian trades, Or leans beneath the Aromatick Shades. 10 Bred to the Love of Lit’rature and Arms, Still something great a Scottish Bosom warms: Tho nurs’d on Ice, and educate in Snaw, Honour and Liberty eags him to draw A Hero’s Sword, or an heroick Quill, 15 The monst’rous Faes of Right and Wit to kill. 217

Poems Well may ye further in your leal Design, To thwart the Gowks, and gar the Brethren tine The wrang Opinion which they lang have had, That a’ which mounts the Stage — is surely bad. Stupidly dull! But Fools ay Fools will be, And nane’s sae blind as them that winna see. Where’s Vice and Virtue set in juster Light? Where can a glancing Genius mine mair bright? Where can we humane Life review mair plain, Than in the happy Plot and curious Scene?

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If in themsells sic fair Designs were ill,

We ne’er had priev’d the sweet drammatick Skill } Of Congrave, Adison, Steel, Rowe, and Hill; Hill, wha the highest Road to Fame doth chuse, And has some upper Seraph for his Muse: It maun be sae, else how could he display With so just Strengh the great tremendous Day. Sic Patterns, Joseph, always keep in View.

Ne’er fash if ye can please the thinking Few, } Then spite of Malice Worth shall have its due.

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Colin and Grisy parting. A SONG, to the Tune of Woes my Heart that we shou’d sunder. With broken Words and downcast Eyes, Poor Colin spoke his Passion tender, And parting with his Grisy, cries, Ah! Woes my Heart that we should sunder. To others I am cold as Snow, 5 But kindle with thine Eyes like Tinder; From thee with Pain I’m forc’d to go, It breaks my Heart that we should sunder. Chain’d to thy Charms I cannot range, No Beauty new my Love shall hinder, Nor Time nor Place shall ever change My Vows, tho we’re oblig’d to sunder.

10

The Image of thy graceful Air, And Beauties which invite our Wonder, Thy lively Wit and Prudence rare 15 Shall still be present tho we sunder. Dear Nymph believe thy Swain in this, 218

Colin and Grisy parting You’l ne’er engage a Heart that’s kinder, Then seal a Promise with a Kiss, Always to love me tho we sunder. 20 Ye Gods take Care of my dear Lass, That as I leave her I may find her, When that blest Time shall come to pass We’ll meet again and never sunder.

Spoken to two young Ladies who asked if I could say any thing on them: One excell’d in a beautiful Complection, the other in fine Eyes. To the first. Upon your Cheek sits blooming Youth. To the other. Heaven sparkles in your Eye. To both. There’s something sweet about each Mouth, Dear Ladies let me try.

The Mill, Mill, — O. A

S O N G.

Beneath a green Shade I fand a fair Maid Was sleeping sound and still — O, A’ lowan wi’ Love my Fancy did rove, Around her with good Will — O; Her Bosom I press’d, but sunk in her Rest 5 She stirdna my Joy to spill — O: While kindly she slept close to her I crept, And kiss’d, and kiss’d her my fill — O. Oblig’d by Command in Flanders to land, T’employ my Courage and Skill — O; 10 Frae ’er quietly I staw, hois’d Sails and awa, For Wind blew fair on the Bill — O. Twa Years brought me hame, where loud fraising Fame Tald me with a Voice right shill — O, My Lass like a Fool had mounted the Stool,288 15 15. The Stool ] viz Of Repentance.

219

Poems Nor kend wha’d done ’er the Ill — O. Mair fond of her Charms, with my Son in her Arms, I ferlying speer’d how she fell — O, Wi’ the Tear in her Eye, quoth she, let me die, Sweet Sir, gin I can tell — O. 20 Love gae the Command, I took her by th’ Hand, And bade her a’ Fears expell — O, And nae mair look wan, for I was the Man Wha had done her the Deed my sell — O. My bonny sweet Lass on the gowany Grass, 25 Beneath the Shilling-hill — O.289 If I did Offence I’se make ye Amends Before I leave Peggy’s-Mill — O. O the Mill, Mill — O, and the Kill, Kill — O, And the Cogging of the Wheel — O; 30 The Sack and the Sive, a’ thae ye maun leave, And round with a Soger reel — O.

The Poet’s Wish: An ODE. Quid dedicatum poscit Apollinem Vates? —— Hor. Frae great Apollo, Poet say, What is thy Wish, what wadst thou hae, When thou bows at his Shrine? Not Karss o’ Gowrie’s fertile Field,290 Nor a’ the Flocks the Grampians yield, 5 That are baith sleek and fine: Not costly Things brought frae afar, As Ivory, Pearl and Gems; Nor those fair Straths that water’d are With Tay and Tweed’s smooth Streams, 10 Which gentily and daintily Eat down the flowry Braes, As greatly and quietly They wimple to the Seas. Whaever by his kanny Fate Is Master of a good Estate, That can ilk Thing afford, Let him enjoy’t withoutten Care,

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26. Shilling-hill ] Where they winnow the Chaff from the Corns. 4. Karss of Gowrie ] A large and fertile Plain on the Tay, in the Shire of Perth.

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The Poet's Wish And with the Wale of curious Fare Cover his ample Board. Much dawted by the Gods is he, Wha to the Indian Plain, Successfu’ ploughs the wally Sea, And safe returns again, With Riches that hitches Him high aboon the rest Of sma’ Fowk, and a’ Fowk That are wi’ Poortith prest.

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For me I can be well content To eat my Bannock on the Bent, 30 And kitchen’t wi’ fresh Air; Of Lang-kail I can make a Feast, And cantily had up my Crest, And laugh at Dishes rare. Nought frae Apollo I demand, 35 But throw a lengthen’d Life My outer Fabrick firm may stand, And Saul clear without Strife. May he then but gie then Those Blessings for my Skair, 40 I’ll fairly and squairly Quite a’ and seek nae mair. The Response of the Oracle. To keep thy Saul frae puny Strife, And heeze thee out of vulgar Life, We in a morning Dream 45 Whisper’d our Will concerning thee, To Marlus stretch’d beneath a Tree, Hard by a pop’ling Stream, He full of me shall point the Way, Where thou a STAR shalt see, 50 The Influence of whose bright Ray, Shall wing thy Muse to flee. Mair speer na, and fear na, But set thy Mind to rest, Aspire ay still high’r ay, 55 And always hope the best.

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Poems THE

C O N C L U S I O N.

After the Manner of Horace, ad librum suum.

Dear vent’rous Book, e’en take thy Will, And scowp around the Warld thy fill: Wow! Ye’re newfangle to be seen, In guilded Turky clade, and clean. Daft giddy Thing! to dare thy Fate, 5 And spang o’er Dikes that scar the blate: But mind when anes ye’re to the Bent, (Altho in vain) ye may repent. Alake, I’m flied thou aften meet, A Gang that will thee sourly treat, 10 And ca’ thee dull for a’ thy Pains, When Damps distress their drouzie Brains. I dinna doubt whilst thou art new, Thoul’t Favour find frae not a few, But when thou’rt rufl’d and forfairn, 15 Sair thumb’d by ilka Coof or Bairn; Then, then by Age ye may grow wise, And ken things common gies nae Price. I’d fret, wae’s me! to see the lye Beneath the Bottom of a Pye, 20 Or cow’d out Page by Page to wrap Up Snuff, or Sweeties in a Shap. Away sic Fears, gae spread my Fame, And fix me an immortal Name; Ages to come shall thee revive, 25 And gar thee with new Honours live. The future Criticks I forsee Shall have their Notes on Notes on thee: The Wits unborn shall Beauties find That never enter’d in my Mind. 30 Now when thou tells how I was bred, But hough enough to a mean Trade;291 To ballance that, pray let them ken My Saul to higher Pitch cou’d sten. And when ye shaw I’m scarce of Gear, 35 Gar a’ my Virtues shine mair clear. Tell, I the best and fairest please, A little Man that loo’s my Ease, And never thole these Passions lang That rudely mint to do me wrang. 40

32. Hough enough ] Very indifferently.

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Conclusion Gin ony want to ken my Age, See Anno Dom. on Title Page; This Year when Springs by Care and Skill, The spacious leaden Conduits fill,292 And first flow’d up the Castle-hill. 45 When South-Sea Projects cease to thrive, And only North-Sea seems alive, Tell them your Author’s Thirty five.

} }

44. The Spacious, &c. ] The new Lead Pipes for conveying Water to Edinburgh, of 4 ¼ Inches Diameter within, and 6/10 of an Inch in thickness; all cast in a Mould invented by the ingenious Mr. Harding of London.

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POEMS (1728)

Title-page of Poems 1728 Reproduced courtesy of the National Library of Scotland Shelfmark H.29.a.21

D E D I C AT I O N To the PATRONS who subscribed for the First and this Volume. TO

Mr. Alexander Blackwood Merchant, Mr. James Bogle Writer, Charles Bridgeman, Esq; Mr. Brodie of Lethem, Mr. William Brown Writer, Mr. James Brownhill Architect, Mr. David Bruce Merchant, William Buchanan of Drumskill, Jun. Francis Buchanan of Arnprior, Josiah Burchet, Esq; Secretary of the Admiralty, Gilbert Burnet, Esq; one of the Commissioners of Excise.

His Grace Duke of Argyle and Greenwich, His Grace Duke of Athole, The Most Hon. Marquis of Annandale, The R. H. Earl of Aboyn, The R. H. the Countess of Aboyn, Sir John Anstruther of that Ilk, Bt. Mr. William Adam, Architect, Colonel Philip Anstruther, William Aikman of Carnie, Robert Aiton, Esq; Mr. John Alves Advocate, Mr. James Anderson Writer to the Signet, Mr. David Anderson Writer, John Arbuthnot, M. D. London, Mr. John Arbuthnot of Boston, Merchant.

C

B The Most Hon. Marquis of Bowmont. The R. H. Earl of Berkley. The R. H. Lord Belhavon, The R. H. Lord Binning, The Hon. Alexander Brodie of that Ilk, Lord Lyon King at Arms, The Hon. Mris. Brodie, The Hon. Lady Bruce, Sir William Bennet of Grubbet, Bt. Sir William Baird of Newbyth, Bt. Sir William Baillie of Lamington, Bt. The Hon. George Baillie of Jerviswood, Mr. James Baillie Writer to the Signet, John Baird Esq; of Newbyth, Jun, James Balfour of Pilrig, Mr. Alexander Bayne Advocate, Mr. Thomas Belshes Writer, William Bennet Esq; of Grubbet, Jun. Mr. Henry Bethune Jeweller,

His Grace Duke of Chandois, The Most Hon. Marquis of Clydesdale, The Most Hon. Marquis of Carnarvon, The R. H. Earl of Crawford, The R. H. Earl of Cassils, The R. H. Earl of Caithness, The R. H. Earl of Carnwath, The R. H. Lord Crichton, The R. H. Colonel Charles Master of Cathcart, The Hon. Sir William Calderwood Lord Polton, The Hon. Sir John Clerk of Pennycuik, Baron of the Exchequer, Sir James Campbell of Arkindlas, Bt. Sir James Campbell of Aberuchil, Bt. Sir Duncan Campbell of Lochnell, Bt. Sir James Cuningham of Milncraig, Bt. Colonel Campbell of the Royal Regiment of Scots Dragoons, John Campbell Esq; late Lord Provost of Edinburgh, Donald Cameron of Lochiol, Captain Campbell of Skipnish, Mr. Campbell of Calder,

227

Poems John Campbell Esq; one of the Hon. Commissioners of the Board of Customs, James Campbell of Stonefield, Archibald Campbell of Ruddel, Ronald Campbell of Balerno, Mr. Robert Campbell of Stockholm, Mr. Daniel Campbell Writer, Mr. George Campbell Professor of Mathematicks, Edinburgh, Mr. Roderick Chalmers Ross-Herald, and Herald-Painter, Mr. William Cheselden Surgeon to St. Thomas’s Hospital, F.R.S. James Clerk, Esq; of Pennycuik, Jun. John Clerk, M. D., Edinburgh, Captain Hugh Clerk, John Cockburn of Orniston, Jun. Mr. William Clerk, M.T. Mr. Andrew Cochran, William Cockburn, Esq; Mr. Richard Cooper Painter, Mr. John Corse Writer, David Crawford of Allenton, Robert Crawford, Esq; William Crawford, Esq; Mr. Charles Crokat Merchant, Henry Cuningham of Balquhan. D His Grace Duke of Devonshire, The Most Hon. Marquis of Drumlanrig, The R. H. Earl of Dalhousie, The R. H. Earl of Dundonald, The R. H. Lord Deskford, The Hon. Hew Dalrymple Lord Drummore, The Hon. George Dalrymple Baron of the Exchequer, Sir James Dalrymple of Hales, Bt. Sir John Dalrymple of Cowsland, Bt. Sir George Dunbar of Mochram, Bt. Sir Robert Dalrymple of Castleton, Bt. William Dalmahoy of Revelrig, Mr. Hugh Dalrymple Advocate, Jo. Theo. Desaguliers, L.L.D. William Dale, Esq;

William Dixon of the Middle Temple, Esq; John Don of Attenburn, Captain Thomas Don, Mr. James Donaldson Treasurer of Edinburgh, Richard Dowdswell, Esq; Secretary of the Board of Excise, William Douglas of Glenbervy, Jun. Colonel William Douglas, Joseph Douglas of Edrington, Mr. David Drummond Advocate. George Drummond, Esq; one of the Hon. Commissioners of the Customs, William Drummond of Abbotsgrange, Mr. Alexander Drummond Collector of the Customs at Greenock, Alexander Duncan of Lundie, The Hon. Robert Dundas of Arniston, John Dundas of Manor, James Dundas of Castlecary, William Duff of Braco, Mris. Duff Lady Braco. E The R. H. Earl of Eglinton, The R. H. Countess of Eglinton, The R. H. Lord Elphinston, The R. H. Lord Erskine, The Hon. Patrick Master of Elibank, The Hon. James Erskine Lord Grange, The Hon. David Erskine Lord Dun, The Hon. James Elphinston Lord Cowpar, The Hon. Sir Gilbert Elliot Lord Minto, Mr. Charles Erskine Advocate. F The Hon. Andrew Fletcher Lord Milton, The Hon. Duncan Forbes Lord Advocate, Sir Alexander Forbes of Foveran, Brian Fairfax, Esq; one of the Hon.

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Dedication Commissioners of the Customs, Mr. William Fall of Dunbar Merchant, Nicolas Fenwick, Esq; late Mayor of Newcastle, Mr. John Fergus, Mr. James Ferguson of Pitfour, Alexander Ferriar Provost of Dundee, Mr. Hugh Fleming Writer to the Signet, John Forbes of Culloden, Mr. John Forbes of Newhall, Mr. William Forbes Writer to the Signet, Captain James Forrester, William Fullarton of that Ilk, John Fullarton, Esq; G His Grace Duke of Gordon, The Most Hon. Marquis of Graham, The R. H. Earl of Glencairn, The R. H. Earl of Galloway, The R. H. Viscount of Garnock, The R. H. Lord Gray, The R. H. Lord Garlies, Sir Robert Gordon of Gordonston, Bt. Sir William Gordon of Invergordon, Bt. Sir Archibald Grant of Monimusk, Bt. The Hon. Thomas Gordon Admiral, and Knight of the Order of St. Alexander in Russia, Alexander Gibson of Pentland, Mr. Thomas Gibson, one of the principal Clerks of Session, James Gibbs, Esq; James Glen of Longcroft, Bernham Good, Esq; Lewis Gordon of Temple, Mr. Thomas Gordon Advocate, Thomas Gordon, Esq; Charles Gordon Merchant. Mr. James Graham, Judge Admiral. Mungo Græme of Gorthie, Mr. Graham of Colairn, Colonel William Grant,

Captain George Grant, Mr. Charles Gregory Professor of Mathematicks at St. Andrews. Walter Grosert, Esq; H His Grace Duke of Hamilton and Brandon, Her Grace the Dutchess of Hamilton, The R. H. Earl of Hartford, L. Piercy, The R. H. Earl of Haddington, The R. H. Earl of Hopeton, The R. H. Lord Hope, The Hon. Mr. Basil Hamilton, The Hon. Sir Andrew Home Lord Kimmergham, Sir James Hall of Dunglass, Sir Alexander Hope of Carse, Mungo Haldane of Gleneagles, Alexander Hamilton of Dechmont, Mr. Archibald Hamilton of Dalziel, Mr. Robert Hamilton Merchant, Mr. Hay of Drumelzier, John Hay of Newhall, Robert Hay of Naughten, John Hay of Hops, Andrew Hay of Mugdrum, Magnus Henderson of Gardie, James Hepburn Rickard of Keith, Robert Hepburn of Beanston, John Hepburn of Humbie, Lady Herbertshire, Robert Heriot of Ramornie, John Hill, Esq; one of the Hon. Commissioners of the Customs, John Hog of Cambo, Henry Home of Kames, Jun. Mr. James Home Writer to the Signet, Mr. John Home Chamberlain to the Duke of Roxburgh, Mr. Hope of Rankeilour, Robert Hucks, Esq; I The R. H. Earl of Islay, The Hon. Sir John Jennings Admiral, Sir Henry Innes of that Ilk, Bt. Sir John Inglis of Cramond, Bt.

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Poems Sir James Johnston of Westerhall, Mr. William Jaffrey Merchant, Mr. William Jamison Merchant of Leith, Mr. George Irvine of Newton, Mr. James Justice of Crichton, Jun. one of the principal Clerks of Session, K The R. H. Earl of Kinoul, The R. H. Countess of Kinoul, The R. H. the Earl of Kilmarnock, The R. H. the Count. of Kilmarnock, The R. H. Earl of Kintore, The Hon. Thomas Kennedy Baron of the Exchequer, Sir William Ker of Greenhead, Bt. Sir Tho. Kilpatrick of Closeburn, Bt. Sir Francis Kinloch of Gilmerton, Bt. Robert Keith of Craig, Mr. William Keir, Mr. George Kennedy Writer to the Signet, Joh Ker of Frogton. L The R. H. Earl of Lauderdale, The R. H. Lord Lovat, The R. H. Lady Euphemia Lockhart, The Hon. Matthew Lant, Esq; Lord Chief Baron of the Exchequer, Sir James Lockhart of Carstairs, Bt. Sir Alex. Lauder of Fountainhall, Bt. Mr. John Leslie Master of the Grammar School of Haddington, Mr. Patrick Lindsay Dean of Guild of Edinburgh, George Lockhart of Carnwath, Jun. Mris. Lockhart Lady Carnwath, Mr. George Lockhart Merchant, Mr. Tho. Longman Bookseller, Lond. Mr. Lumisden of Innergelly, Mr. John Lumisden Writer to the Signet, Mr. William Lumisden Writer, John Lundin of that Ilk.

M His Grace Duke of Montrose, The R. H. Countess of Murray, The R. H. Earl of March, The R. H. Earl of Marchmont, The R. H. Lord George Murray, The R. H. Lady Euphemia Murray, The R. H. Lady Mary Montgomery, The R. H. Lady Betty Montgomery, The R. H. Lady Mary Macdonald, The R. H. Lady Betty Macdonal, The Hon. Sir James Mackenzie Lord Royston, The Hon. Archibald Macaulay Lord Provost of Edinburgh, Sir William Maxwell of Calderwood, Sir Patrick Hepburn-Murray of Blackcastle, Bt. Mr. Donald Maceuen Jeweller to the Czar of Moscovy, Mris. Barb. Macdougal of Mackerston, Walter Macfarlane of that Ilk, Mr. John Macfarlane Writer to the Signet, Alexander Macgill Architect, Mr. Jo. Macgowan Writer to the Signet, Patrick Mackay of Cyderhall, Alexander Mackey of Palgowan, Mr. Alexander Mackenzie, one of the principal Clerks of the Session, Mr. Kenneth Mackenzie Advocate, Roderick Macleod of Cadboll, Mr. Alexander Maitland Merchant, Mr. William Martin of Harwood, Mr. Alex. Menzies of Coulterallers, The Hon. Edm. Miller, Esq; Baron of the Exchequer, Mr. Ro. Mitchel of Fountainbrighs, Mr. Will. Mitchel of Leith, Merchant, Mr. Joseph Mitchel, Colonel Monro of Fowlis, Colonel Montgomery, Mr. David Morison, Writer, Mr. Hugh Mosman, B.B. The Hon. Alex. Murray of Brughton, Mr. Murray of Abercarny, Mr. Murray of Stenhope, Jun. 230

Dedication Mris. Murray, Mr. John Murray, one of the principal Clerks of Session, George Muirhead of Whitecastle, Dr. Musgrave. N The R. H. Lord Napier, The R. H. Lord Nairn, Sir David Nairn, Sir James Nasmith of Posso, Bt. John Nairn of Segiden, James Nasmith of Earlshall, Mr. James Nimmo Cashier of the Board of Excise, William Nisbet of Dirleton, Mris. Nisbet Lady Dirleton, Alexander Nisbet, Esq; Mr. James Norie Painter. O The R. H. Earl of Oxford, The R. H. Countess of Oxford, The R. H. Viscount of Oxenford, Mr. George Ogilvie Advocate, Mr. John Ogilvie of Balbegno, Capt. James Ogilvie of the Fuzileers, Anthony Osburn, Esq; Mr. John Osburn Bookseller, Lond. Mr. Philip Overton Printseller, Lond. P The R. H. Earl of Pembroke, The R. H. Countess of Panmure, The R. H. Viscount of Primrose, The Hon. Sir Walter Pringle Lord Newhall, Sir Robert Pringle of Stichel, Bt. Sir Arch. Primrose of Dunipace, Bt. John Paterson of Prestonhall, Mr. James Paterson of Kirkton, Mr. Alexander Pope, Brigadier Preston, Mr. Tho. Pringle Writer to the Signet.

Q His Grace Duke of Queensberry and Dover, Her Grace Dutchess of Queensberry, R His Grace Duke of Roxburgh, The R. H. Countess of Roxburgh, The R. H. Earl of Rothes, The R. H. Earl of Rutherglen, The R. H. Lord Rae, The R. H. Lord Ramsay, The R. H. Lady Ramsay, The R. H. Lady Anne Ramsay, Sir Alex. Ramsay of Balmain, Bt. Mr. Gilbert Ramsay Chamberlain to the Duke of Roxburgh, Mr. William Richie Merchant, Richard Redley, Esq; of Newcastle, Samuel Rith, Esq; Thomas Robertson of Downihills, Mr. Robert Robertson Merchant, The Hon. General Charles Ross of Balnagowan, Hugh Ross of Kilravock, David Ross of Inverchasley, William Ross of Shandwick, Thomas Ruddiman, A. M. Mr. John Russel of Bradshaw. S The R. H. Earl of Stair, The R. H. Countess of Stair, The R. H. Earl of Selkirk, The R. H. Earl of Strathmore, The R. H. Countess of Southesk, The R. H. Lord Somervile, The R. H. Lady Somervile, Sir George Sinclair of Kinnaird, Bt. Sir John Sinclair of Longformacus, Sir Henry Sterling, Bt. Sir Richard Steel, Mr. Mark Sandilands Merchant, Hercules Scott of Brotherton, Thomas Sharp of Blanse, Mr. Alexander Sharp Merchant, William Sinclair of Rosline, Patrick Sinclair of Brims, 231

Poems George Skeen of that Ilk, Major Skeen’s Lady, Lieutenant George Skeen, Mris. Sleigh, Mr. John Smibert Painter, Mr. James Smith of Whitehill, Mr. George Smollet of Ingliston, Will. Somervile, Esq; of Warwickshire, Captain William Spence, John Stark, Esq; Provost of Glasgow, Mr. John Steil, Robert Steil Esq; Captain William Steven, Major James Stewart of Torence, Mr. Archibald Stewart Writer, Mr. Hen. Stewart-Barclay of Colerny, Mr. William Stewart of Hartwood, Mr. Ja. Stewart Attorney of Exchequer, Mr. Robert Stewart Professor of Philosophy, Edin. Mr. Ro. Stewart Merchant of Aberd. Henry Strachy, Esq; John Swinton of that Ilk, Mr. Alexander Symmer Bookseller. T The Most Hon. Marq. of Tweedale, Mr. Alexander Tait Merchant, William Thomas, Esq;

W The R. H. Earl of Wigton, The R. H. Countess of Wigton, The R. H. the Earl of Wemyss, The R. H. Countess of Wemyss, Mr. Wauchop of Niddry, Marischal; Andrew Wauchop of Edmonston, George Warrender of Bruntsfield, Mr. John Wardlaw Chamberlain to the Earl of Wigton, John Watt of Rosehill, Jun. Mr. Alexander Wedderburn Commissioner of the Excise, Mris. Wedderburn, Mr. Patrick Wedderburn Advocate, Robert Welstead, Esq; Mr. West, Captain John Whiteford, Allan Whiteford Dep. Receiver-Gen. of his Majesty’s Land-Rents, &c. Mr. Robert Wightman Merchant, Mr. William Wightman Shore-master of Leith, Mr. Archibald Wightman Merchant, Coronet William Wilkinson, John Wodrow, M. D. Glasgow, Mr. Robert Wood Secretary to the Duke of Roxburgh, Captain Urquhart of Burdsyards, Y Robert Yarde of Devonshire, Esq; Mr. Yeaman of Dundee, John Young of Leny, George Young Chirurgeon, Edin.

Most Noble, Right Honourable, and generous Patrons,

I Can never cast my Eye on the preceeding LIST without inexpressible Joy and

a grateful Resentment, when I see Numbers of the most eminent Distinction and conspicuous Merit, with a Godlike Benevolence, condescending to support one to whom their own indulgent Approbations have raised a Stock of Fame amongst the Rank of native Poets : Tho’ my Imagination were less warm than it really is, such Encouragement might rouze me to employ all the Strength of my Genius to endeavour after a suitable measure of Desert. Since whatever is vicious can give no solid Pleasure, I have taken Care to evite every Thought tending either to Debauchery or Irreligion, while I endeavour to 232

Dedication be serviceable to Morality, even in those Verses of the merriest Turn ; so that the most grave and modest, in reading, shall neither be shock’d or affronted. While thus a Poet aims at the useful and pleasant, he may hope for Approbation from the Best, and never be afraid of Detraction or Poverty (the too frequent Attendants on Stipendless Preachers) if he can gain so many noble and worthy Supporters, as have made my inferior Life happy, by their generous Beneficence never to be hid or forgot. Let the Spleenatick censure as they please, and attempt by Detraction to clip the Wings of my Vanity (as they often nickname the ardent Emotions towards what is praise-worthy) yet I shall ever think it rude in me to make You an Offering, with a Multitude of Excuses, for its Unworthiness ; no, but as a certain Poet says of his Mistriss, so I of my Poems, They have no Faults, or I no Faults can spy ; They’re beautiful, or sometimes blind am I.1 I have examined them over and over with Care, and have struck out every Thing that I thought a Blemish ; since nothing is so capable to ruffle my Tranquillity, as Your finding any Production of my Muse imperfect or deformed. However I shall be always pleas’d with a judicious Criticism, and hoard it up against the Time (perhaps about twenty Years hence, if GOD pleases) when a severer Judgment shall get the better of a rambling Fancy ; against which Time, as it is proposed by an eminent Patron, I am to leave Posterity one or two good pickt Volumes, perhaps out of four or five. My First Volume, printed seven Years ago, now honoured to be in Your Libraries, with this, shall I hope (when I have join’d the Society of Spirits) in this Edition be acceptable to the Curious in succeeding Ages; The more so, since that instead of printing some Thousands, I have only thrown off so many in this Size as allenerly are destined for Your Service. May the cheerful Reflections of Goodness, fix’d Health to a happy old Age, with the delightful Satisfaction of Your reasonable Wishes, be ever Your’s, is the hearty and sincere Prayer of, Brave and Fair PATRONS, Your most humble, Edin. May most obliged, and 1728. devoted Servant, ALLAN RAMSAY.

1. These lines are modified from Chr. Codrington’s ‘Verses addressed to the Author of “The Dispensary”’. The Dispensary: A Poem; in Six Canto’s by Sir Samuel Garth (1661-1719) was published in 1709.

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C R I T I C K. Stand, Critick, and before ye read, Say, are ye free of Party-fead, Or of a Saul sae scrimp and rude, To envy every thing that’s Good? And if I shou’d (perhaps by Chance) 5 Something that’s new and smart advance, Resolve ye not with scornful Snuff, To say ’tis a’ confounded Stuff; If that’s the Case, Sir, spare your Spite, For, faith, ’tis not for you I write: 10 Gae gie your Censure higher Scope, And Congreve criticise or Pope, Young’s Satires, or Swift’s merry Smile, These, these are Writers worth your While. On me your Talents wad be lost, 15 And tho’ you gain a simple Boast; I want a Reader wha deals fair, And not ae real Fault will spare; Yet with good Humour will allow Me Praise, when e’er ’tis justly due: 20 Blest be sic Readers, — but the rest That are with Spleen and Spite opprest; May Bards arise to gar them divine, To Death with Lays the maist divine, For sma’s the Skaith they’ll get by mine. 25

}

How many, and of various Natures, Are on this Globe the Crowds of Creatures; In Mexiconian Forests fly, Thousands that never wing’d our Sky: ’Mangst them there’s ane of Feathers fair, 30 That in the Musick bears nae Skair, Only an imitating Ranter, For whilk he bears the Name of Taunter; Soon as the Sun springs frae the East, Upon the Branch he cocks his Crest, 35 Attentive, when frae Bough and Spray The tunefu’ Throats salute the Day: The Brainless Beau attacks them a’, No ane escapes him great or sma’; Frae some he takes the Tone and Manner, 40 Frae this a Bass, frae that a Tenor, Turns Love’s saft Plaint to a dull Bustle, And sprightly airs to a vile Whistle; Still labouring thus to counterfeit, He shaws the Poorness of his Wit. 45 234

To the Critick Anes, when with Echoe loud the Taunter Tret with Contempt ilk native Chanter, Ane of them says, We own ’tis true, Few Praises to our Sangs are due, But pray, Sir, let’s have ane frae you.

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The Ram and Buck. A Ram, the Father of a Flock, Wha’d mony Winters stood the Shock Of Northern Winds and driving Snaw, Leading his Family in a Raw, Throw Wreaths that clad the laigher Field, 5 And drave them frae the lowner Bield, To crop contented frozen Fare, With Honesty on Hills blown bare. This Ram of upright hardy Spirit, Was really a horn’d Head of Merit. 10 Unlike him was a neighbouring Goat, A mean Saul’d, cheating, thieving Sot; That tho’ possest of Rocks the Prime, Crown’d with fresh Herbs and rowth of Thime, Yet Slave to pilfering; his Delight 15 Was to break Gardens ilka Night, And round him Steal, and aft destroy Even Things he never could enjoy: The Pleasure of a dirty Mind That is sae viciously inclin’d. 20 Upon a Borrowing-day, when Sleet Made Twinters, and Hog-wedders bleet, And quake with Cauld: Behind a Ruck Met honest Toop and snaking Buck, Frae Chin to Tail clad with thick Hair, 25 He bad Defiance to thin Air; But trusty Toop his Fleece had riven, When he amang the Birns was driven Half naked the brave Leader stood, His Look compos’d, unmov’d his Mood. 30 When thus the Goat (that had tint a’ His Credit baith with great and sma’, Shunn’d by them as a Pest, wad fain New Friendship with this Worthy gain.) Ram, say, shall I give you a Part 35 Of mine, I’ll do’t with all my Heart, ’Tis yet a lang cauld Month to Beltan, And ye’ve a very raggit Kelt on; Accept, I pray, what I can spare, To clout your Doublet with my Hair. 40 235

Poems No, says the Ram, tho’ my Coat’s torn, Yet ken, thou Worthless, that I scorn, To be oblig’d at any Price To sic as you, whose Friendship’s Vice; I’d have less Favour frae the best, Clad in a hatefu’ hairy Vest Bestow’d by thee, than as I now Stand but ill drest in native Woo. Boons frae the Generous make ane smile, Frae Miscreants make Receivers vile.

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On receiving a Present of an Orange from Mris. G. L. now Countess of Aboyne. Now, Priam’s Son, thou may’st be mute, For I can blythly boast with thee; Thou to the Fairest gave the Fruit, The Fairest gave the Fruit to me.

H E A L T H; A

P O E M.

inscrib’d to The Right Honourable the Earl of STAIR. Be’t mine the Honour, once again to hear, And see the best of Men for me appear, I’ll proudly chant: Be dumb, ye vulgar Throng, Stair bids me sing, to him these Lays belong; If he approves, who can condemn my Song?

} Of Health I sing; O Health my Portion be, And to old Age I’ll sing if bless’d by thee. Blessing Divine! Heaven’s fairest Gift to Man! Soul of his Joys! and Lengthner of his Span! His Span of Life preserv’d with panting Breath, Without thy Presence proves a ling’ring Death.

The Victor Kings may cause wide Nations bow, And Half a Globe with conqu’ring Force subdue; Bind Princes to their Axletrees, and make The wondr’ing Mob of staring Mortals quake: Erect triumphal Arches, and obtain The loud Huzza from Thousands in their Train: But if her Sweetness balmy Health denies, 236

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Health: A Poem Without Delight Pillars or Eneids rise. Cosmellius may on Silky Twilts repose, And have a num’rous Change of finest Cloaths; Box’d in his Chair, he may be born to dine On Ortelons, and sip Tokay Wine. His Liver, if an Inflammation seize, Or wasting Lungs shall make him cough and wheeze; No more he smiles, nor can his richest Toys, Or Looking-glass, restore his wonted Joys: The rich Brocade becomes a toilsome Weight, The brilliant Gem offends his weakly Sight; Perfumes grow nauseous then, nor can he bear Loud tuneful Notes, that us’d to charm his Ear. To please his Taste the Cook attempts in vain, When now each former Pleasure gives him Pain.

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Nor flowing Bowls, loud Laugh or Midnight Freik, Nor smutty Tale, delight the roving Rake; 35 When Health forsakes him, all Diversions tire; There’s nothing pleases, nothing can inspire A blythsome Smile; he shuns the Shine of Light, And broken Slumbers make a weary Night. If silent Sleep attempts to bring him Ease, 40 His watching Fancy feels the whole Disease: He dreams a Mountain lies upon his Breast, Or that he flies the Fury of some Beast; Sees, at vast Distance, gushing from the Rocks, The cooling Stream, — while burning Thirst provokes 45 Him, fainting, to climb up the craggy Edge, And drag his Limbs through many a thorny Hedge; Hangs o’er a Precipice, or sinks in Waves: And all the while he sweats, turns, starts and raves. How mad’s that Man, push’d by his Passions wild, Who’s of his greatest Happiness beguil’d; Who seems, whate’er he says, by Actions low, To court Disease, our Pleasure’s greatest Foe? From Paris, deeply skill’d in nice Ragoos, In Oleos, Salmongundies and Hogoes, Montanus sends for Cooks, that his large Board May all invented Luxury afford: Health’s never minded, while the Appetite Devours the spicy Death with much Delight. Mean time King Arthur’s sav’ry knighted Loyn Appears a Clown, and’s not allow’d to join The marinated Smelt, and Sturgeon Joles, Soup-Vermecell, souc’d Turbet, Cray and Soals, Fowls a la daube, and Omelet of Eggs, 237

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Poems The smother’d Coney, and bak’d Padocks Legs, Pullets a Bisk, and Orangedo Pye, The larded Peacock, and the Tarts de Moy, The Collard Veal, and Pike in Cassorole, Pigs a la Braise, the Tansy and Brusole; With many a hundred costly mingled Dish, Wherein the Moiety of Flesh or Fish Is wholly lost, and vitiate as the Taste Of them who eat the dangerous Repast; Until the feeble Stomach’s over-cram’d, The Fibres weaken’d, and the Blood enflam’d. What aking Heads, what Spleen, and drowsy Eyes, From undigested Crudities arise? But when Montano’s Paunch is over cloy’d, The Bagnio, or Emetic Wine’s employ’d. These he imagines Methods the most sure, After a Surfeit, to complete a Cure: But never dreams how much the Balm of Life Is wasted by this forc’d unnat’ral Strife. Thus Peuther Vessel must by scouring wear, While Plate more free from Dross continues clear. Long unconsum’d the Oak can bear the Beams, Or lie for Ages firm beneath the Streams: But when alternately the Rain and Rays, Now dash, then dry the Plank, it soon decays. Luxurious Man! altho’ thou’rt blest with Wealth, Why shouldst thou use it to destroy thy Health? Copy Mellantius, if you’d learn the Art, To feast your Friends, and keep their Souls alart, One good substantial British Dish or two, Which sweetly in their natural Juices flow, Only appear. And here no Danger’s found, To tempt the Appetite beyond its Bound; And you may eat, or not, as you incline; And, as you please, drink Water, Beer or Wine. Here Hunger’s safe, and gratefully appeas’d, The Spleen’s forbid, and all the Spirits rais’d, And Guests arise regal’d, refresh’d and pleas’d.

} Grumaldo views, from rais’d Parters around, A thousand Acres of fat furrow’d Ground, And all his own; — but these no Pleasure yield, While Spleen hangs as a Fog o’er every Field: The lovely Landskip clad with gilded Corn, The Banks and Meads which Flowers and Groves adorn, No Relish have; his envious sullen Mind, Still on the Fret, complains his Fate’s unkind: Something he wants which always flies his Reach, Which makes him groan beneath his spreading Beach. 238

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Health: A Poem When all of Nature, silent, seem to shun Their Cares, and nod till the returning Sun; His envious Thoughts forbid refreshing Sleep, And on the Rack his hopeless Wishes keep: Fatigu’d and drumbly from the Down he flies, With skinny Cheek, pale Lips and blood-run Eyes. Thus toil’d with lab’ring Thoughts he looks agast, And tasteless loaths the nourishing Repast. Meager Disease an easy Passage finds, Where Joy’s debarr’d, in such corroded Minds. Such take no care the Springs of Life to save, Neglect their Health, and quickly fill a Grave.

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Unlike gay Myrtle, who with cheerful Air, 125 Less envious, tho’ less rich, no Slave to Care, Thinks what he has enough, and scorns to fret, While he sees Thousands less oblig’d to Fate, And oftner from his Station casts his Eye On those below him, than on them more high: 130 Thus Envy finds no Access to his Breast, To sowr his gen’rous Joys, or break his Rest. He studies to do Actions just and kind, Which with the best Reflections chear the Mind: Which is the first Preservative of Health, 135 To be preferr’d to Grandeur, Pride and Wealth. Let all who would pretend to common Sense, ’Gainst Pride and Envy still be on Defence. Who love their Health, nor would their Joys controul, Let them ne’er nurse such Furies in their Soul. 140 Nor wait on strolling Phimos to the Stews, Phimos who by his livid Colour shews Him load with vile Diseases, which are fixt Upon his Bones, and with his Vitals mixt. Does that Man wear the Image of his God, 145 Who drives to Death on such an ugly Road? Behold him clad, like any bright Bridegroom, In richest Labours of the British Loom; Embroider’d o’er with Gold, whilst Lace or Lawn Waves down his Breast, and Rusles o’er his Hand, 150 Set off with Art, which vilely he employs In Sinks of Death, for low dear purchas’d Joys He grasps the blasted Shadow of the Fair, Whose sickly Look, vile Breath, and falling Hair, The flag’d Embrace, and mercenary Squeeze, 155 The twangs of Guilt, and terrors of Disease, Might warn him to beware, if wild Desire Had not set all his thoughtless Soul in Fire. O poor mistaken Youth! to drain thy Purse, To gain the most malignant humane Curse! 160 239

Poems Think on thy Flannel, and Mercurial Dose, And future Pains, to save thy Nerve and Nose. Think, heedless Wight, how thy infected Veins May plague thee many a Day with loathsome Pains, When the French Foe his woeful Way has made, And all within has dire Detachments laid; There long may lurk, and, with Destruction keen, Do horrid Havock e’er the Symptom’s seen. But learn to dread the poisonous Disease, When Heaviness and Spleen thy Spirits seise; When feeble Limbs to serve thee will decline, And languid Eyes no more with Sparkles shine; The Roses from thy Cheek will blasted fade, And leave a dull Complexion like the Lead: Then, then expect the terrible Attack Upon thy Head, thy Conduit, Nose and Back; Pains through thy Shoulders, Arms, and Throat and Shins, Will threaten Death, and damp thee with thy Sins. How frightful is the Loss, and the Disgrace, When it destroys the Beauties of the Face! When the arch’d Nose in rotten Ruin lyes, And all the Venom flames around the Eyes; When th’ Uvula has got it’s mortal Wound, And Tongue and Lips form Words without a Sound; When Hair drops off, and Bones corrupt and bare, Through ulcerated Tags of Muscles stare. But vain we sing Instruction to his Ear, Who’s no more Slave to Reason than to Fear; Hurried by Passion, and o’ercome with Wine, He rushes headlong on his vile Design: The nauseous Bolus, and the bitter Pill, A Month of spitting, and the Surgeon’s Bill, Are now forgot, whilst he: — But here ’tis best To let the Curtain drop, and hide the rest Of the coarse Scene, too shocking for the Sight Of modest Eyes and Ears, that take Delight To hear with Pleasure Urban’s Praises sung, Urban the kind, the prudent, gay and young, Who moves a Man, and wears a rosie Smile, That can the fairest of a Heart beguile: A virtuous Love delights him with it’s Grace, Which soon he’ll find in Myra’s lov’d Embrace, Enjoying Health, with all it’s lovely Train Of Joys, free from Remorse, or Shame or Pain. But Talpo sighs with matrimonial Cares, His Cheeks wear Wrinkles, Silver grow his Hairs; Before old Age, his Health decays apace, And very rarely Smiles clear up his Face. 240

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Health: A Poem Talpo’s a Fool, there’s hardly Help for that, He scarcely knows himself what he’d be at: He’s avaritious to the last Degree, And thinks his Wife and Children makes too free With his dear Idol; this creates his Pain, And breeds Convulsions in his narrow Brain. He always startled at approaching Fate, And often jealous of his vertuous Mate; Is ever anxious, shuns his Friends, to save: Thus soon he’ll fret himself into a Grave; There let him rot, — worthless the Muse’s Lays, Who never read one Poem in his Days. I sing to Marlus, Marlus who regards The well mean’d Verse, and generously rewards The Poet’s Care; observe now, if you can, Ought in his Carriage, does not speak the Man: To him his many a Winter wedded Wife Appears the greatest Solace of his Life. He views his Offspring with indulgent Love, Who his superior Conduct all approve. Smooth glide his Hours, at Fifty he’s less old, Than some who have not half the Number told. The chearing Glass he with right Friends can share, But shuns the deep Debauch with cautious Care. His Sleeps are sound, he sees the Morning rise, And lifts his Face with Pleasure to the Skies; And quaffs the Health that’s born on Zephyr’s Wings, Or gushes from the Rock in Limpid Springs. From fragrant Plains he gains the chearing Smell, While ruddy Beams all distant Dumps repell. The whole of Nature, to a Mind thus turn’d, Enjoying Health, with Sweetness seems adorn’d. To him the whistling Ploughman’s artless Tune, The bleeting Flocks, the Oxens hollow Crune, The warbling Notes of the small chirping Throng, Delight him more than the Italian Song. To him the cheapest Dish of rural Fare, And Water cool in place of Wine more rare, Shall prove a Feast. On Straw he’ll find more Ease Than on the Down, even with the least Disease. Whoever’s tempted to transgress the Line, By Moderation fix’d to enlivening Wine; View Macro wasted long before his Time, Whose Head, bow’d down, proclaims his liquid Crime. The Purple Dye, with Ruby Pimples mixt, As Witnesses upon his Face are fixt. A constant Fever wastes his Strength away, And Limbs enervate gradually decay. 241

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Poems The Gout and Palsy follow in the Rear, And make his Being burthensome to bear. His squeamish Stomach loaths the savory Sey, And nought but Liquids now can find their Way To animate his Strength, which daily flies, Till the young Drunkard’s past all Hope, and dies. To practise what we preach, O Goddess-born! Assist thy Slave, lest Bacchanalians scorn Thy Inspiration, if the tempting Grape Shall form the hollow Eye, and Idiot Gape.

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But let no wretched Misers, who repine, And wish there were not such a Juice as Wine, Imagine here that we are so profane To think that Heaven gave plenteous Vines in vain. 270 No; since there’s Plenty, Cups may sparkling flow, And we may drink till our rais’d Spirits glow. They will befriend our Health, while chearful Rounds Incline to Mirth, and keep their proper Bounds. Fools should not drink, I own, who still wish more, 275 And know not when ’tis proper to give o’er. Dear Britons, let no Morning Drinks deceive Your Appetites, which else at Noon would crave Such proper Aliments, as can support At Even your hearty Bottle, Health and Sport. 280 Next view we Sloth (too oft the Child of Wealth) A seeming Friend, but real Foe to Health. Lethargus loll’s his lazy Hours away, His Eyes are drowsy, and his Lips are blae; His soft enfeebl’d Hands supinely hing, And shaking Knees unus’d, together cling: Close by the Fire his Easy-Chair stands, In which all Day he snotters, nods and yawns. Sometimes he’ll drone at Piquet, hoping Gain, But you must deal his Cards, that’s too much Pain. He speaks but seldom, puffs at every Pause, Words being a Labour to his Tongue and Jaws. Nor must his Friends discourse above their Breath, For the least Noise stounds through his Ears like Death. He causes stop each Cranny in his Room, And heaps on Cloaths, to save him from the Rheum: Free Air he dreads as his most dangerous Foe, And trembles at the Sight of Ice or Snow. The Warming-Pan each Night glows o’er his Sheets, Then he beneath a Load of Blankets sweats; The which (instead of shutting) ope’s the Door, And let’s in Cold at each dilated Pore. Thus does the Sluggard Health and Vigour waste, 242

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Health: A Poem With heavy Indolence; till at the last, Sciatick, Jaundice, Dropsie, or the Stone, Alternate makes the lazy Lubard grone.

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But active Hilaris much rather loves, With eager Stride to trace the Wilds and Groves; To start the Covy, or the bounding Roe, Or work destructive Reynard’s Overthrow: 310 The Race delights him, Horses are his Care, And a stout ambling Pad his easiest Chair. Sometimes to firm his Nerves he’ll plunge the Deep, And with expanded Arms the Billows sweep: Then on the Links, or in the Estler Walls, 315 He drives the Gowff, or strikes the Tennis Balls. From Ice with Pleasure he can brush the Snow, And run rejoycing with his Curling Throw; Or send the whizzing Arrow from the String, A manly Game†, which by it self I sing.1 320 Thus chearfully he’ll walk, ride, dance or game, Nor mind the Northern Blast, or Southern Flame. East Winds may blow, and sullen Fogs may fall, But his hale Constitution’s Proof to all. He knows no Change of Weather by a Corn, 325 Nor minds the black, the blew or ruddy Morn. Here let no Youth extravagantly given, Who values neither Gold, nor Health, nor Heaven, Think that our Song encourages the Crime Of setting deep, or wasting too much Time On furious Game; which makes the Passions boil, And the fair Mean of Health a weakning Toil, By Violence excessive, or the Pain Which ruin’d Losers ever must sustain.

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Our Hilaris despises Wealth so won; 335 Nor does he love to be himself undone, But from his Sport, can with a Smile retire, And warm his Genius at Apollo’s Fire; Find useful Learning in the inspired Strains, And bless the generous Poet for his Pains. 340 Thus he by Lit’rature and Exercise, Improves his Soul, and wards off each Disease. Health’s op’ner Foes, we’ve taken Care to show, Which Diseases in full Torrents flow: But when these Ills intrude, do what we will, Then hope for Health from Clark’s approven Skill; To such well seen in Nature’s darker Laws, † A Poem on seeing the Archers playing at the Rovers.

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Poems That for Disorders can assign a Cause: Who know the Virtues of salubrious Plants, And what each different Constitution wants, Apply for Health. — But shun the vagrant Quack, Who gulls the Crowd with Andrew’s comick Clack; Or him that charges Gazettes with his Bills, His Anadoyns, Elixirs, Tinctures, Pills, Who rarely ever cures, but often kills. Nor trust thy Life to the old Woman’s Charms, Who binds with knotted Tape thy Legs or Arms, Which they pretend will purple Fevers cool; And thus impose on some believing Fool. When Agues shake, or Fevers raise a Flame, Let your Physician be a Man of Fame; Of well known Learning, and in good Respect, For Prudence, Honour, and a Mind erect: Nor scrimply save from what’s to Merit due; He saves your whole Estate who succours you.

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Be grateful, Britons, for your temp’rate Beams, Your fertile Plains, green Hills, and silver Streams, O’erclad with Corns, with Groves, and many a Mead; Where rise green Heights, where Herds in Millions feed: Here useful Plenty mitigates our Care, And Health with freshest Sweets embalms the Air. Upon those Shores, where Months of circling Rays Glance feebly on the Snow, and frozen Bays; Where, wrapt in Fur, the starving Lapland Brood Scarce keep the Cold from curdling of their Blood: Here meager Want, in all its pinching Forms, Combines with lengthned Night and bleakest Storms, To combate joyful Health and calm Repose, Which from an equal Warmth and Plenty flows.

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Yet rather, O great Ruler of the Day, 380 Bear me to Weygate, or to Hudson’s Bay, Than scorch me on these dry and blasted Plains, Where Rays direct inflame the boiling Veins Of gloomy Negroes, who’re oblig’d to breathe A thickned Air, with pestilential Death, 385 Where range out o’er th’ unhospitable Wastes, The Hunger edg’d, and fierce devouring Beasts; Where Serpents crawl, which sure Destruction bring, Or in the envenom’d Tooth or forked Sting; Where fleeting Sands ne’er yield to industrious Toil 390 The golden Sheave, or Plants for Wine and Oil: Health must be here a Stranger, where the Rage Of fev’rish Beams forbid a lengthen’d Age. Ye Dutch, enjoy your Dams, your Bulwarks boast, 244

Health: A Poem And war with Neptune for a sandy Coast, 395 Whilst frighted by these deep tumultuous Powers, You scarce dare sleep in your subaqueous Bowers: Raise high your Beds, and shun your croaking Frogs, And battle with Tobacco Smoak your Fogs; Soak on your Stoves, with Spirits charge your Veins, 400 To ward off Agues and Rheumatick Pains. Let the proud Spaniard strut on naked Hills, And vainly trace the Plain for Christal Rills, Starve on a Sallet, or a Garlick Head, Pray for his daily Roots, not daily Bread; Be sowr, and jealous of his Friend and Wife, Till Want and Spleen cut short his Threed of Life. Whilst we on our auspicious Island find What e’er can please the Sense, or chear the Mind. Blest Queen of Isles! with a devout Regard, Allow me to kneel down and kiss thy Sward, Thy Flow’ry Sward, and offer Heaven a Vow, Which Gratitude and Love to thee makes due: If e’er I from thy Healthful Limits stray, Or by a Wish, or Word, a Thought betray, Against thy Int’rest, or thy fair Renown; May never Daphne furnish me a Crown, Nor may the first-rate Judges of our Isle, Or read or on my blythsome Numbers smile. Thalia here, sweet as the Light, retir’d, Commanding me to sing what she’d inspir’d, And never mind the glooming Criticks Bray; The Song was her’s, — she spoke, — and I obey.

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Robert, Richy, and Sandy; A

PASTORAL On the Death of

MATTHEW PRIOR Esq; Inscrib’d to the Right Honourable Person design’d by the Old Shepherd †2 Robert the good, by a’ the Swains rever’d, Wise are his Words, like Siller is his Beard: Near saxty shining Simmers he has seen, Tenting his Hirsle on the Moor-land Green: Unshaken yet with mony a Winter’s Wind, Stout are his Limbs, and youthfu’ is his Mind. But now he droops, ane wad be wae to see Him sae cast down; ye wadna trow ’tis he. By break of Day he seeks the dowy Glen, That he may Scowth to a’ his Mourning len: Nane but the clinty Craigs and scrogy Briers Were Witnesses of a’ his Granes and Tears; Howder’d wi’ Hills a Crystal Burnie ran, Where twa young Shepherds fand the good auld Man: Kind Richy Spec, a Friend to a’ distrest, And Sandy wha of Shepherds sings the best; With friendly Looks they speer’d wherefore he mourn’d, He rais’d his Head, and sighing thus return’d. ROBERT. O Matt! poor Matt! – My Lads, e’en take a Skair Of a’ my Grief; – Sweet singing Matt’s nae mair. Ah Heavens ! did e’er this lyart Head of mine Think to have seen the cauldrife Mools on thine! RICHY. My Heart misga’e me, when I came this Way, His Dog its lane sat yowling on a Brae; I cry’d, Isk-isk, — poor Ringwood, – sairy Man; He wag’d his Tail, cour’d near, and lick’d my Hand: I clap’d his Head, which eas’d a wee his Pain; But soon’s I gade away, he youl’d again. Poor kindly Beast. Ah Sirs! how Sic should be Mair tender-hearted mony a time than we! SANDY. Last Ouk I dream’d my Tupe that bears the Bell, And paths the Snaw, out o’er a high Craig fell, † Robert late Earl of Oxford.

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A Pastoral on the Death of M. Prior And brak his Leg. — I started frae my Bed, Awak’d, and leugh. — Ah! now my Dream it’s red. How dreigh’s our Cares, our Joys how soon away, Like Sun-blinks on a cloudy Winter’s Day! Flow fast, ye Tears, ye have free Leave for me; Dear sweet-tongu’d Matt, Thousands shall greet for thee. ROBERT. Thanks to my Friends, for ilka briny Tear Ye shed for him; he to us a’ was dear: Sandy, I’m eas’d to see thee look sae wan; Richy, thy Sighs bespeak the kindly Man. RICHY. But twice the Simmer’s Sun has thaw’d the Snaw, Since frae our Heights * Eddie was tane awa’: 3 Fast Matt has follow’d. — Of sic twa bereft, To smooth our Sauls, alake! wha have we left! Waes me! o’er short a Tack of sic is given, But wha may contradict the Will of Heaven? Yet mony a Year he liv’d to hear the Dale Sing o’er his Sangs, and tell his merry Tale. Last Year I had a stately tall Ash-tree, Braid were its Branches, a sweet Shade to me; I thought it might have flowrish’d on the Brae, (Tho’ past its Prime) yet twenty Years or sae: But ae rough Night the blat’ring Winds blew snell, Torn frae its Roots, adown it souchan fell; Twin’d of its Nourishment, it lifeless lay, Mixing its wither’d Leaves amang the Clay. Sae flowrish’d Matt: But where’s the Tongue can tell How fair he grew? how much lamented fell?

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SANDY. How snackly cou’d he gi’e a Fool Reproof, E’en wi’ a canty Tale he’d tell aff loof? How did he Warning to the Dosen’d sing, By auld Purganty, and the Dutchman’s Ring? And Lucky’s Siller Ladle shaws how aft 65 Our greatest Wishes are but vain and daft. The wad-be Wits, he bade them a’ but pap Their crazy Heads into Tam Tinman’s Shap; There they wad see a Squirrel wi’ his Bells Ay wrestling up, yet rising like themsells. 70 Thousands of Things he wittily cou’d say, With Fancy strang, and Saul as clear as Day; Smart were his Tales: But where’s the Tongue can tell How blyth he was? how much lamented fell? * Secretary Addison, whose Obsequies are sung in a Scots Pastoral.

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RICHY. And when he had a mind to be mair grave, 105 A Minister nae better cou’d behave; Far out of Sight of sic he aften flew, When he of haly Wonders took a View. Well cou’d he praise the Power that made us a’, And bids us in Return but tent his Law; 110 Wha guides us when we’re waking or asleep, With thousand times mair Care than we our Sheep. While he of Pleasure, Power and Wisdom sang, My Heart lap high, my Lugs wi’ Pleasure rang: These to repeat, braid-spoken I wad spill, 115 * Lewis XIV. King of France. † Boileau, whose Ode on the taking Namure by the French 1692 he burlesqu’d, on its being retaken by the British 1695.

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A Pastoral on the Death of M. Prior Altho’ I should employ my utmost Skill. He tower’d aboon: But ah! what Tongue can tell How high he flew? how much lamented fell? ROBERT. My Bennison, dear Lads, light on ye baith, Wha ha’e sae true a Feeling of our Skaith: O Sandy, draw his Likeness in smooth Verse, As well ye can; — then Shepherds shall rehearse His Merit, while the Sun mets out the Day, While Ews shall bleet, and little Lambkins mae. I’ve been a Fauter, now three Days are past, While I for Grief have hardly broke my fast: Come to my Shiel, there let’s forget our Care, I dinna want a Rowth of Country-fare, Sic as it is, ye’re welcome to a Skair. Besides, my Lads, I have a Browst of Tip, As good as ever wuish a Shepherd’s Lip; We’ll tak a Scour o’t to put aff our Pain, For a’ our Tears and Sighs are but in vain: Come, help me up; — yon sooty Cloud shores Rain.

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} To Mr. Pope. Three times I’ve read your Iliad o’er: The first time pleas’d me well; New Beauties unobserv’d before, Next pleas’d me better still. Again I try’d to find a Flaw, Examin’d ilka Line; The third time pleas’d me best of a’, The Labour seem’d divine. Henceforward I’ll not tempt my Fate, On dazling Rays to stare, Lest I should tine dear Self-conceit, And read and write nae mair.

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EPISTLE

To the Honourable

DUNCAN FORBES, Lord Advocate.

Shut in a Closet six Foot square, No fash’d with meikle Wealth or Care, I pass the live lang Day; Yet some ambitious Thoughts I have, Which will attend me to my Grave, 5 Sic busked Baits they lay. These keep my Fancy on the Wing Something that’s blyth and snack to sing, And smooth the runkled Brow: Thus Care I happily beguile, 10 Hoping a Plaudit and a Smile, Frae best of Men, like You. You, wha in kittle Casts of State, When Property demands Debate, Can right what is dung wrang; 15 Yet blythly can, when ye think fit, Enjoy your Friend, and judge the Wit And Slidness of a Sang. How mony, your Reverse, unblest, Whase Minds gae wandring through a Mist, 20 Proud as the Thief in Hell, Pretend, forsooth, they’re gentle Fowk, ’Cause Chance gi’es them of Gear the Yowk, And better Cheils the Shell? I’ve seen a We’an aft vex it sell, 25 And greet, because it was not tall: Heez’d on a Board, O than! Rejoicing in the artfu’ Height, How smirky look’d the little Wight! And thought it sell a Man. 30 Sic Bairns are some blawn up a wee With Splendor, Wealth and Quality, Upon these Stilts grown vain; They o’er the Pows of poor Fowk stride, And neither are to had nor bide, 35 Thinking this Height their ain. Now shou’d ane speer at sic a Puff, What gars thee look sae big and bluff? 250

Epistle to the Honourable Duncan Forbes, Lord Advocate Is’t an attending Menzie? Or fifty Dishes on your Table? 40 Or fifty Horses in your Stable? Or Heaps of glancing Cunzie? Are these the things thou ca’s thy sell? Come, vain gigantick Shadow, tell, If thou sayest, Yes — I’ll shaw 45 Thy Picture. — Mean’s thy silly Mind, Thy Wit’s a croil, thy Judgment blind, And Love worth nought ava. Accept our Praise, ye nobly born, Whom Heaven takes Pleasure to adorn 50 With ilka manly Gift; In Courts or Camps to serve your Nation, Warm’d with that generous Emulation Which your Forbears did lift. In Duty, with Delight, to You 55 Th’ inferior World justly bow, While You’re the maist deny’d; Yet shall Your Worth be ever priz’d, When struting Nathings are despis’d With a’ their stinkan Pride. 60 This to set aff as I am able, I’ll frae a Frenchman thigg a Fable, And busk it in a Plaid: And tho’ it be a Bairn of *6Motte’s, When I have taught it to speak Scots, 65 I am its second Dad. “Twa Books, near Neighbours in a Shop, “The tane a guilded Turky Fop, “The tither’s Face was weather-beaten, “And Caf-skin Jacket sair worm-eaten. 70 “The Corky, proud of his braw Suit, “Curl’d up his Nose, and thus cry’d out, “Ah! place me on some fresher Binks, “Figh! how this mouldy Creature stinks! “How can a gentle Book like me 75 “Endure sic scoundrel Company? “What may Fowk say to see me cling “Sae close to this auld ugly thing; “But that I’m of a simple Spirit, “And disregard my proper Merit? 80 * Mons. la Motte, who has written lately a curious Collection of Fables, from which the following is imitated.

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“For a’ your meritorious Skin, } “I doubt if you be worth within.

“For as auld fashion’d as I look, “May be I am the better Book. 85 “O Heavens! I canna thole the Clash “Of this impertinent auld Hash; “I wanna stay ae Moment langer. “My Lord, please to command your Anger; “Pray only let me tell you that — 90 “What wad this Insolent be at! “Rot out your Tongue — Pray, Master Symmer, “Remove me frae this dinsome Rhimer: “If you regard your Reputation, “And us of a distinguish’d Station, 95 “Hence frae this Beast let me be hurried, “For with his Stour and Stink I’m worried. “Scarce had he shook his paughty Crap, “When in a Customer did pap; “He up douse Stanza lifts, and ey’s him, 100 “Turns o’er his Leaves, admires, and buys him: “This Book, said he, is good and scarce, “The Saul of Sense in sweetest Verse. “But reading Title of gilt cleathing, “Cries, Gods! wha buys this bonny naithing? 105 “Nought duller e’er was put in Print: “Wow! What a deal of Turky’s tint!” Now, Sir, t’apply what we’ve invented, You are the Buyer represented: And, may your Servant hope 110 My Lays shall merit your Regard, I’ll thank the Gods for my Reward, And smile at ilka Fop.

The Clock and Dial. Ae day a Clock wad brag a Dial, And put his Qualities to trial; Spake to him thus, – My Neibour, pray, Can’st tell me what’s the time of Day? The Dial said, “I dinna ken.” — 5 Alake! what stand ye there for then? — “I wait here till the Sun shines bright, “For nought I ken but by his Light.” Wait on, quoth Clock, I scorn his Help, Baith Night and Day my lane I skelp; 10 252

The Clock and Dial Wind up my Weights but anes a-week, Without him I can gang and speak: Nor like an useless Sumph I stand, But constantly wheel round my Hand: Hark, hark, I strike just now the Hour; And I am right, Ane, — Twa, — Three, — Four. While thus the Clock was boasting loud, The bleezing Sun brak throw a Cloud; The Dial, faithfu’ to his Guide, Spake Truth, and laid the Thumper’s Pride: “Ye see, said he, I’ve dung you fair, “’Tis four Hours and three Quarters mair. “My Friend, he added, count again, “And learn a wee to be less vain: “Ne’er brag of constant clavering Cant, “And that you Answers never want; “For you’re not ay to be believ’d: “Wha trust to you may be deceiv’d. “Be counsell’d to behave like me; “For when I dinna clearly see, “I always own I dinna ken; “And that’s the way of wisest Men.”

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AN

ODE

To the Memory of

Lady Margaret Anstruther. All in her Bloom the graceful Fair, LUCINDA, leaves this mortal Round; Her Loss a thousand Mourners share, And Beauty feels the cruel Wound. Now Grief and Tears o’er all our Joys prevail, 5 Viewing her Rosy Cheeks all cold and pale. Thus some fair Star distinguish’d bright, Which decks the Heavens, and guides the Main; When Clouds obscure its glorious Light, It leaves the gloomy World in Pain. 10 So sudden Death has vail’d LUCINDA’s Eyes, And left us lost in Darkness and Surprize. Nor Sweetness, Beauty, Youth nor Wealth, Nor Blood, tho’ nobly high it springs; Nor Virtue’s self can purchase Health, 15 When Death severe his Summons brings: Else might the fair LUCINDA, young and gay, 253

Poems Have blest the World with a much longer Stay. But say, sweet Shade, was it thy Choice To leave this low unconstant Globe; 20 Tyr’d with its vain, its jangling Noise, Thou wisely dropt thy humane Robe: Or tell us, Guardian Angels, tell us true, Did ye not claim her hence as one of you? Yes, well we know it is your Way, When here below such Beings shine, To grudge us even our earthly Clay, Which form’d like her becomes divine. Such you demand, and free from Cares and Fears, Unmindful of our fruitless Sighs and Tears.

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Yet daign, ye Friends to humane Kind, The lonely Consort to attend; O sooth the Anguish of his Mind, And let his killing Sorrows end. Tell him, his Sighs and Mourning to asswage, 35 Each Day she dwelt with him was worth an Age. Ye lovely Virgins who excell, Ye Fair to whom such Strains belong, In melting Notes her Beauties tell, And weep her Virtues in a Song: 40 See that ye place her Merit in true Light; For singing her’s, your own will shine more bright. Let East and West, and South and North, Aloud the mournful Musick hear, How Beauty’s fallen beyond the Forth; 45 Let Britain’s Genius Cypress Wear. Yet Britain’s happy, who such Beauty yields, As forc’d from her’s, will grace Elysium’s Fields.

ELEGY

On the Right Honourable

James Lord Carnegie,

Who died the 7th January 1722, the Eighth Year of his Age. As Poets feign, and Painters draw, Love and the Paphian Bride; Sae we the fair SOUTHESKA SAW, CARNEGIE by her Side. Now sever’d frae his Sweets by Death, 5 254

Elegy on James Lord Carnegie Her Grief wha can express? What Muse can tell the waefu’ Skaith, Or Mother’s deep Distress! Sae Roses wither in their Buds, Kill’d by an Eastlen Blast, 10 And sweetest Dawns in May with Clouds And Storms are soon o’ercast. Ah checquer’d Life! Ae Day gives Joy, The niest our Hearts maun bleed: Heaven caus’d a Seraph turn a Boy, 15 Now gars us trow he’s dead. Wha can reflect on’s ilka Grace, The Sweetness of his Tongue, His manly Looks, his lovely Face, And Judgment ripe sae young;

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And yet forbear to make a doubt, As did the Royal Swain, When he with Grief of Heart cry’d out, That Man was made in vain? Mortals the Ways of Providence 25 But very scrimply scan; The changing Scene eludes the Sense And Reasonings of Man. How mony Thousands ilka Year, Of hopefu’ Children, crave 30 Our Love and Care, then disappear, To glut a gaping Grave. What is this Grave? A Wardrobe poor, Which hads our rotting Duds; Th’ immortal Mind, serene and pure, 35 Is cleath’d aboon the Clouds. Then cease to grieve, dejected Fair, You had him but in trust; He was your beauteous Son, your Heir, Yet still ae haff was Dust.

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The other to its native Skies Now wings its happy Way; With glorious Speed and Joy he flys, There blessfully to stray. CARNEGIE then but changes Clay, 45 255

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O D E

Sacred to the Memory of the Right Honourable

ANNE Lady Gairlies. How vain are our Attempts to know? How poor, alas! is Reason’s Skill? We blindly wander here below, Yet fondly search Heaven’s secret Will. Each Day we see the Young, the Great, the Small, 5 The Good, the Bad, without Distinction, fall. Yet such as have the Rest out-shin’d, We should be faulty to neglect; Each Grace of beauteous GARLIA’s Mind Deserves the Muse’s high Respect. 10 But how shall she such Worth and Goodness paint? A loving Daughter, virtuous Wife and Saint? Some Seraph who in endless Day With Themes sublime employ the Lyre, Dart in my Breast a shining Ray, 15 And all my Soul with her inspire; Else sing your selves so fair a Frame and Mind, As now supplies a Place among your Kind. As we the glorious Sun admire, Whose Beams make ev’ry Joy arise; 20 Yet dare not view the dazling Fire, Without much hazarding our Eyes: So did her Beauties ev’ry Heart allure, While her bright Virtues kill’d each Thought impure. She breath’d more Sweetness than the East, While ev’ry Sentence was divine; Her Smiles could calm each jarring Breast; Her Soul was a Celestial Mine, Where all the precious Veins of Virtue lay; Too vast a Treasure long to lodge in Clay. 256

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An Ode to the Memory of Anne Lady Gairlies Tho’ sprung from an *7heroick Race, Which from the World Respect does claim; Yet wanted she no borrowed Grace, Her own demands immortal Fame: Worthy as those who shun the vulgar Roads, 35 Start from the Crowd, and rise amongst the Gods. Such Pains as weaker Minds possess, Could in her Breast no Access find; But lowly Meekness did confess A steady and superior Mind. 40 Unmov’d she bore these Honours due the Great, Nor could have been depress’d with a more humble Fate. As to the Fields the Huntsman hies, With joyful Shouts he wakes the Morn; While Nature smiles, serene the Skies, 45 Swift fly his Hounds, shrill blows his Horn: When suddenly the thund’ring Cloud pours Rain, Defaces Day, and drives him from the Plain. Thus young BRIGANTIUS circling Arms Grasp’d all that’s lovely to his Heart, 50 Rejoyc’d o’er his dear ANNA’s Charms; But not expecting soon to part: When rigid Fate, for Reasons known above, Snatch’d from his Breast the Object of his Love. Ah GARLIES! once the happiest Man, Than e’er before BRIGANTINE Chief, Now sever’d from your lovely ANNE, ’Tis hard indeed to stem your Grief: Yet mind what you might often from her hear, What Heaven designs, submissive we should bear.

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Oh! ne’er forget that tender Care, Those Heaven-born Thoughts she did employ, To point those Ways how you may share Above with her immortal Joy. Such a bright Pattern of what’s Good and Great, 65 Even Angels need not blush to imitate.

* She was Daughter of the Earl Marischal of Scotland.

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Lovely Lass and the Mirror. A Nymph, with ilka Beauty grac’d, Ae Morning by her Toilet plac’d, Where the leal-hearted Looking-glass With Truths addrest the lovely Lass; — To do ye Justice, heavenly Fair, 5 Amaist in Charms ye may compare With Venus sell. — But mind amaist: For tho’ you’re happily possest Of ilka Grace which claims Respect, Yet I see Faults ye should correct; 10 I own they only Trifles are; Yet of Importance to the Fair. What signifies that Patch o’er braid, With which your rosie Cheek’s o’erlaid? Your natural Beauties you beguile, 15 By that too much affected Smile: Saften that Look, — move ay with Ease, And you can never fail to please. Those kind advices she approv’d, And mair her Monitor she lov’d; Till in came Visitants a Threave: To entertain them, she maun leave Her Looking-glass. — They fleetching praise Her Looks, — her Dress, — and a’ she says, Be’t right or wrang; she’s hale compleat, And fails in naithing fair or sweet. Sae much was said, the bonny Lass Forgat her faithfu’ Looking-glass.

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CLARINDA, this dear Beauty’s You, The Mirror is, Ane good and wise, 30 Wha, by his Counsels just, can shew How Nobles may to Greatness rise. God bless the Wark: — If you’re opprest By Parasites with fause Design, Then will sic faithfu’ Mirrors best 35 These Underplotters countermine.

JUPITER’s Lottery. Anes JOVE, by ae great Act of Grace, Wad gratify his humane Race, And order’d Hermes, in his Name, With Tout of Trumpet to proclaim 258

Jupiter's Lottery A Royal Lott’ry frae the Skies, 5 Where ilka Ticket was a Prize. Nor was there Need for Ten per Cent, To pay Advance for Money lent: Nor Brokers nor Stockjobbers here Were thol’d to cheat Fowk of their Gear. 10 The first-rate Benefits were, Health, Pleasures, Honours, Empire and Wealth; But happy he to whom wad fa’ Wisdom, the highest Prize of a’: Hopes of attaining Things the best, 15 Made up the maist feck of the rest. Now ilka Ticket sald with Ease, At Altars for a Sacrifice; JOVE a’ receiv’d, Ky, Gates and Ews, Moor-cocks, Lambs, Dows or Bawby-rows; 20 Nor wad debar e’en a poor Droll, Wha nought cou’d gi’e but his Parol. Sae kind was he no to exclude Poor Wights for want of Wealth or Blood; Even whiles the Gods, as Record tells, 25 Bought several Tickets for themsells. When Fou and Lots put in the Wheel, Aft were they turn’d, to mix them well; Blind Chance to draw JOVE order’d syne, That nane with Reason might repine: 30 He drew, and Mercury was Clark, The Number, Prize and Name to mark. Now Hope, by Millions fast came forth, But seldom Prizes of mair Worth, Sic as Dominion, wealth and State, 35 True Friends, and Lovers fortunate. Wisdom, at last, the greatest Prize, Comes up: — Aloud Clark Hermes crys, – Number Ten thousand, — Come, let’s see The person blest. — Quoth Pallas, ME. — 40 Then a’ the Gods for Blythness sang, Throw Heaven glad Acclamations rang; While Mankind grumbling laid the wyte On them, and ca’d the hale a Byte. Yes! cry’d ilk ane, with sobing Heart, 45 Kind JOVE has play’d a Parent’s Part Wha did this Prize to Pallas send, While we’re sneg’d off at the Wob End. Soon to their Clamours JOVE took tent, To punish which, to wark he went, He straight with Follies fill’d the Wheel, In Wisdom’s Place they did as well; For ilka ane wha Folly drew, 259

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The Miser and Minos. Short syne there was a wretched Miser, With pinching had scrap’d up a Treasure; Yet frae his Hoords he doughtna take As much wou’d buy a Mutton-stake, Or take a Glass to comfort Nature; But scrimply fed on Crumbs and Water: In short, he famish’d ’midst his Plenty; Which made surviving Kindred canty, Wha scarcely for him pat on Black, And only in his Loof a Plack, Which even they grudg’d: Sic is the Way Of them wha fa’ upon the Prey; They’ll scarce row up the Wretch’s Feet, Sae scrimp they make his Winding-sheet, Tho’ he shou’d leave a vast Estate, And Heaps of Gowd like Arthur’s Seat.

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Well, down the starving Ghaist did sink, Till it fell on the Stygian Brink; Where auld Van Charon stood and raught His wither’d Loof out for his Fraught; 20 But them that wanted wherewitha’, He dang them back to stand and blaw. The Miser lang being us’d to save, Fand this, and wadna Passage crave, But shaw’d the Ferry-man a Knack, 25 Jumpt in, — swam o’er, — and hain’d his Plack. Charon might damn, and sink and rore; But a’ in vain, — he gain’d the Shore, — Arriv’d: — The three pow’d Dog of Hell Gowl’d terrible a treeple Yell; 30 Which rouz’d the snaky Sisters three, Wha furious on this Wight did flie, Wha’d play’d the Smugler on their Coast, By which Pluto his Dues had lost: Then brought him for this Trick sae hainous 35 Afore the Bench of Justice Minos. The Case was new, and very kittle, Which puzzl’d a’ the Court na little; Thought after Thought with unco’ Speed Flew round within the Judge’s Head, To find what Punishment was due 260

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The Miser and Minos For sic a daring Crime and new. Shou’d he the Plague of Tantal feel, Or stented be on Ixion’s Wheel, Or stung wi’ bauld Prometheus’ Pain, 45 Or help Sysiph to row his Stane, Or sent amang the wicked Rout To fill the Tub that ay rins out? No, no, continues Minos, no, Weak are our Punishments below, 50 For sic a Crime; — he maun be hurl’d Straight back again into the World. I sentence him to see and hear, What Use his Friends make of his Gear.

The Ape and the Leopard. The Ape and Leopard, Beasts for Show, The first a Wit, the last a Beau; To make a Penny at a Fair, Advertis’d a’ their Parts sae rare. The tane gae out with meikle Wind, His Beauty ’boon the brutal Kind; Said he, I’m kend baith far and near, Even Kings are pleas’d when I appear: And when I yield my vital Puff, Queens of my Skin will make a Muff; My Fur sae delicate and fine, With various Spots does sleekly shine. —

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Now Lads and Lasses fast did rin To see the Beast with bonny Skin: His Keeper shaw’d him round about; 15 They saw him soon, and soon came out. But Master Monky with an Air Hapt out, and thus harangu’d the Fair; Come, Gentlemen, and Ladies bonny, I’ll give ye Pastime for your Money: I can perform, to raise your wonder, Of pawky Tricks mae than a hunder. My Cousin Spottie, true he’s braw, He has a curious Suit to shaw, And nathing mair. — But frae my Mind Ye shall blyth Satisfaction find. Sometimes I’ll act a Cheil that’s dull, Look thoughtfu’, grave, and wag my Scull; Then mimick a light-headed Rake, When on a Tow my Houghs I shake: Sometime, like modern Monks, I’ll seem 261

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Poems To make a Speech, and nathing mean. But come away, ye needna speer What ye’re to pay; I’se no be dear: And if ye grudge for want of Sport, I’ll give it back t’ ye at the Port. The Ape succeeded, in Fowk went, — Stay’d long, — and came out well content. Sae much will Wit and Spirit please, Beyond our Shape, and brawest Claiths. How mony, ah! of our fine Gallants Are only Leopard in their Talents!

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The Ass and Brock. Upon a time a solemn Ass Was dand’ring throw a narrow Pass, Where he forgether’d with a Brock, Wha him saluted frae a Rock; Speer’d how he did, — how Markets gade, — 5 What’s a’ ye’r News, — and how is Trade, — How does Jock Stot and Lucky Yad, Tam Tup, and Bucky honest Lad? Reply’d the Ass, and made a Heel, E’en a’ the better that ye’r weel. 10 But Jackanapes and snarling Fitty Are grown sae wicked, (some ca’s’t witty) That we wha solid are and grave, Nae Peace on our ain Howms can have; While we are bisy gathering Gear, 15 Upon a Brae they’ll sit and sneer. If ane shou’d chance to breathe behin’, Or ha’e some Slaver at his Chin, Or ’gainst a Tree shou’d rub his Arse; That’s Subject for a winsome Farce: 20 There draw they me, as void of thinking, And you, my Dear, famous for stinking; And the bauld birsy Bair your Frien’, A Glutton dirty to the Een, By laughing Dogs and Apes abus’d, 25 Wha is’t can thole to be sae us’d! Dear me! heh wow ! — and say ye sae, — Return’d the Brock, — I’m unko wae To see this Flood of Wit break in, O scour about, and ca’t a Sin; Stout are your Lungs, your Voice is loud; And ought will pass upon the Crowd. The Ass thought this Advice was right, 262

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The Ass and Brock And bang’d away with a’ his Might; Stood on a Know amang the Cattle, 35 And furiously ’gainst Wit did rattle: Pour’d out a Deluge of dull Phrases, While Dogs and Apes leugh, and made Faces. Thus a’ the angry Ass held forth, Serv’d only to augment their Mirth. 40

The Fox and Rat. The Lyon and the Tyger lang maintain’d A bloody Weir; – at last the Lyon gain’d. The Royal Victor strak the Earth with Aw, And the four-footed World obey’d his Law: Frae ilka Species Deputies were sent, 5 To pay their Homage due, and compliment Their Sovereign Liege, wha’d gart the Rebels cour, And own his Royal Right, and Princely Power. After Dispute, the moniest Votes agree, That Reynard should address his Majesty, 10 Ulysses like, in Name of a’ the Lave; Wha thus went on, — “O Prince, allow thy Slave “To roose thy brave Atchievments and Renown; “Nane but thy daring Front shou’d wear the Crown, “Wha art like Jove, whase Thunderbowt can make 15 “The Heavens be hush, and a’ the Earth to shake; “Whase very Gloom, if he but angry nods, “Commands a Peace, and flegs the inferior Gods. “Thus thou, great King, hast by thy conqu’ring Paw, “Gi’en Earth a Shog, and made thy Will a Law: 20 “Thee a’ the Animals with Fear adore, “And tremble if thou with Displeasure rore; “O’er a’ thou canst us eith thy Sceptre sway, “As Badrans can with cheeping Rottans play.” This Sentence vex’d the Envoy Rottan sair; 25 He threw his Gab, and girn’d; but durst nae mair. The Monarch pleas’d with Lowry, wha durst gloom? A Warrant’s order’d for a good round Sum, Which Dragon, Lord Chief Treasurer, must pay To sly-tongu’d Fleechy on a certain Day; 30 Which Secretary Ape in Form wrote down, Sign’d Lyon, and a wee beneath, Baboon. ’Tis given the Fox. — Now Bobtail tap o’ Kin, Made rich at anes, is nor to had nor bind; He dreams of nought, but Pleasure, Joy and Peace, 35 Now blest with Wealth, to purchase Hens and Geese. Yet in his Loof he hadna tell’d the Gowd, And yet the Rottan’s Breast with Anger glow’d; 263

Poems He vow’d Revenge, and watch’d it Night and Day, He took the Tid, when Lowry was away, 40 And throw a Hole into his Closet slips, There chews the Warrant a’ in little Nips. Thus what the Fox had for his Flatt’ry gotten, Ev’n frae a Lyon, was made nought by an offended Rottan.

The Caterpillar and the Ant. A Pensy Ant, right trig and clean, Came ae Day whiding o’er the Green; Where to advance her Pride, she saw A Caterpillar moving slaw: Good-e’en t’ye, Mistress Ant, said he, 5 How’s a’ at hame? I’m blyth to s’ye. — The sawcy Ant view’d him with Scorn, Nor wad Civilities return; But gecking up her Head, quoth she, Poor Animal, I pity thee, 10 Wha scarce can claim to be a Creature, But some Experiment of Nature, Whase silly Shape displeas’d her Eye, And thus unfinish’d was flung by. For me, I’m made with better Grace, 15 With active Limbs, and lively Face; And cleverly can move with Ease Frae Place to Place where e’er I please: Can foot a Minuet or Jig, And snoov’t like ony Whirly-gig; 20 Which gars my Jo aft grip my Hand. ’Till his Heart pitty-pattys, and – But laigh my Qualities I bring, To stand up clashing with a Thing, A creeping Thing, the like of thee, 25 Not worthy of a Farewell t’ye, The airy Ant syne turn’d awa, And left him with a proud Gaffa. The Caterpillar was struck dumb, And never answer’d her a Mum: 30 The humble Reptile fand some Pain Thus to be banter’d with Disdain. But tent neist time the Ant came by The Worm was grown a Butterfly; Transparent were his Wings and fair, 35 Which bare him flightering throw the Air: Upon a Flower he stapt his Flight, And thinking on his former Slight, Thus to the Ant himsell addrest, 264

The Caterpillar and the Ant Pray, Madam, will ye please to rest, 40 And notice what I now advise, Inferiors ne’er too much despise; For Fortune may gi’e sic a Turn, To raise aboon ye what ye scorn: For instance, now I spread my Wing 45 In Air, while you’re a creeping Thing.

The twa Cats and the Cheese. Twa Cats anes on a Cheese did light, To which baith had an equal Right; But Disputes, sic as aft arise, Fell out a sharing of the Prize. Fair Play, said ane, ye bite o’er thick, 5 Thae Teeth of your’s gang wonder quick: Let’s part it, else lang or the Moon Be chang’d, the Kebuck will be done. But what’s to do’t; — they’re Parties baith, And ane may do the other Skaith, 10 Sae with Consent away they trudge, And laid the Cheese before a Judge: A Monkey with a campsho Face, Clerk to a Justice of the Peace, A Judge he seem’d in Justice skill’d, 15 When he his Master’s Chair fill’d; Now Umpire chosen for Division, Baith sware to stand by his Decision. Demure he looks. — The Cheese he pales, — He prives it good, — Ca’s for the Scales; 20 His Knife whops throw’t, — in twa it fell; He puts ilk haff in either Shell: Said he, We’ll truly weigh the Case, And strictest Justice shall have Place; Then lifting up the Scales, he fand 25 The tane bang up, the other stand: Syne out he took the heaviest haff, And ate a Knoost o’t quickly aff, And try’d it syne; — it now prov’d light: Friend Cats, said he, we’ll do ye right. 30 Then to the ither haff he fell, And laid till’t teughly Tooth and Nail, Till weigh’d again it lightest prov’d. The Judge wha this sweet Process lov’d, Still weigh’d the Case, and still ate on, 35 ’Till Clients baith were weary grown, And tenting how the Matter went, Cry’d, Come, come, Sir, we’re baith content. Ye Fools, quoth he, and Justice too, 265

Poems Maun be content as well as you. Thus grumbled they, thus he went on, Till baith the Haves were near hand done: Poor Pousies now the Daffine saw Of gawn for Nignyes to the Law; And bill’d the Judge, that he wad please To give them the remaining Cheese: To which his Worship grave reply’d, The Dues of Court maun first be paid. Now Justice pleas’d: — What’s to the fore Will but right scrimply clear your Score; That’s our Decreet; — gae hame and sleep, And thank us ye’re win aff sae cheap.

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The Chamaeleon. Twa Travellers, as they were wa’king, ’Bout the Chamaeleon fell a ta’king, (Sic think it shaws them mettl’d Men, To say I’ve seen, and ought to ken;) Says ane, ’Tis a strange Beast indeed, 5 Four-footed, with a Fish’s Head; A little Bowk, with a lang Tail, And moves far slawer than a Snail; Of Colour like a Blawart blue; — Reply’d his Nibour, That’s no true; 10 For well I wat his Colour’s Green, If ane may true his ain twa Een; For I in Sun-shine saw him fair, When he was dining on the Air. — Excuse me, says the ither Blade, 15 I saw him better in the Shade, And he is Blue. — He’s Green I’m sure. — Ye lied. — And ye’re the Son of a Whore. — Frae Words there had been Cuff and Kick, Had not a Third come in the Nick, 20 Wha tenting them in this rough Mood, Cry’d, Gentlemen, what! are ye wood? What’s ye’r Quarrel, and’t may be speer’t? Truth, says the tane, Sir, ye shall hear’t: The Chamaeleon, I say, he’s Blue; 25 He threaps he’s Green. — Now, what say you? Ne’er fash ye’r sells about the Matter, Says the sagacious Arbitrator, He’s Black. — Sae nane of you are right, I view’d him well with Candle-light; 30 And have it in my Pocket here, Row’d in my Napkin hale and feer. Fy! said ae Cangler, What d’ye mean? 266

The Chamaeleon I’ll lay my Lugs on’t, that he’s Green. Said th’ither, were I gawn to Death, 35 I’d swear he’s Blue with my last Breath. He’s Black, the Judge maintain’d ay stout; And to convince them, whop’d him out: But to Surprise of ane and a’, The Animal was White as Snaw, 40 And thus reprov’d them, “Shallow Boys, “Away, away, make nae mair Noise; “Ye’re a’ three wrang, and a’ three right, “But learn to own your Nibours Sight “As good as yours. — Your Judgment speak, 45 “But never be sae daftly weak “T’imagine ithers will by Force “Submit their Sentiments to yours; “As things in various Lights ye see, “They’ll ilka ane resemble me.” 50

The twa Lizards. Beneath a Tree, ae shining Day, On a Burn-bank twa Lizards lay Beeking themsells now in the Beams, Then drinking of the cauller Streams. Waes me, says ane of them to th’ ither, 5 How mean and silly live we, Brither? Beneath the Moon is ought sae poor, Regarded less, or mair obscure! We breathe indeed, and that’s just a’; But forc’d by Destiny’s hard Law 10 On Earth like Worms to creep and sprawl; Curst Fate to ane that has a Saul! Forby, gin we may trow Report, In Nilus Giant Lizards sport, Ca’d Crocodiles: – Ah! had I been 15 Of sic a Size, upon the Green, Then might I had my Skair of Fame, Honour, Respect, and a great Name; And Man with gaping Jaws have shor’d, Syne like a Pa-god been ador’d. 20 Ah Friend! replies the ither Lizard, What makes thus grumbling in thy Gizzard? What Cause have ye to be uneasy? Cannot the Sweets of Freedom please ye? We free frae Trouble, Toil or Care, 25 Enjoy the Sun, the Earth and Air, The Crystal Spring, and Green-Wood Shaw, And beildy Holes, when Tempests blaw. 267

Poems Why shou’d we fret, look blae or wan, Tho’ we’re contemn’d by paughty Man? 30 If sae, let’s in Return be wise, And that proud Animal despise. O fy! returns th’ ambitious Beast, How weak a Fire now warms thy Breast? It breaks my Heart to live sae mean; I’d like t’attract the Gazer’s Een, And be admir’d. – What stately Horns The Deer’s majestick Brow adorn! He claims our Wonder and our Dread, Where e’er he heaves his haughty Head. What Envy a’ my Spirit fires, When he in clearest Pools admires His various Beauties with Delyte; I’m like to drown my sell with Spite. Thus he held forth, – when straight a Pack Of Hounds, and Hunters at their Back, Ran down a Deer before their Face, Breathless and wearied with the Chace. The Dogs upon the Victim seise, And Bougles found his Obsequies. But neither Men nor Dogs took tent Of our wee Lizards on the Bent, While hungry Bawty, Buff, and Tray, Devour’d the Paunches of the Prey.

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Soon as the bloody Deed was past, 55 The Lizard wise the Proud addrest, Dear Cousin, now pray let me hear How wad ye like to be a Deer? Ohon! quoth he, convinc’d and wae, Wha wad have thought it anes a Day! Well, be a private Life my Fate, I’ll never envy mair the Great: That we are little Fowk, that’s true; But sae’s our Cares and Dangers too.

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Mercury in Quest of Peace. The Gods coost out; as Story gaes, Some being Friends, some being Faes, To Men in a besieged City; Thus some frae Spite, and some frae Pity, Stood to their Point with canker’d Strictness, And leftna ither in Dogs Likeness. Juno ca’d Venus Whore and Bawd, 268

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Mercury in Quest of Peace Venus ca’d Juno scauldin Jad, E’en cripple Vulcan blew the Low, Apollo ran to bend his Bow, 10 Dis shook his Fork, Pallas her Shield, Neptune his Grape began to wield. What Plague, crys Jupiter, Heh hoy! Maun this Town prove anither Troy? What, will you ever be at odds, 15 Till Mankind think us foolish Gods? Hey! Mistris Peace, make haste, – appear. – But Madam was nae there to hear: Come, Hermes, wing thy Heels and Head, And find her out with a’ thy Speed: Trowth this is bonny Wark indeed.

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Hermes obeys, and staptna short, But flys directly to the Court; For sure, thought he, she will be found, On that fair complimenting Ground, 25 Where Praises and Embraces ran Like current Coin ’tween Man and Man. But soon, alake! he was beguil’d, And fand that Courtiers only smil’d, And with a formal Flat’ry treat ye, 30 That they mair sickerly might cheat ye: Peace was na there, nor e’er could dwell, Where hidden Envy makes a Hell. Niest to the Ha’, where Justice stands With Sword and Balance in her Hands, 35 He flew; – no that he thought to find her Between th’ Accuser and Defender; But sure he thought to find the Wench Amang the Fowk that fill the Bench; Sae muckle Gravity and Grace 40 Appear’d in ilka Judge’s Face: Even here he was deceiv’d again, For ilka Judge stack to his ain Interpretation of the Law, And vex’d themsells with Had and Draw. 45 Frae thence he flew straight to the Kirk: In this he prov’d as daft a Stirk, To look for Peace, where never three In ev’ry Point cou’d e’er agree; Ane his ain Gate explain’d a Text, 50 Quite contrair to his Neighbour next, And teughly toolied Day and Night, To gar Believers trow them right. 269

Poems Then sair he sigh’d, – where can she be? – Well, thought, – the University, 55 Science is ane these maun agree. There did he bend his Strides right clever, But is as far mistane as ever: For here Contention and ill Nature Had runkl’d ilka learned Feature; 60 Ae Party stood for ancient Rules, Anither ca’d the Ancient Fools; Here ane wad set his Shanks aspar, And roose the Man sang Troy War, Anither ca’s him Robin Kar. 65

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} Well, she’s no here; — away he flies To seek her amangst Families. Tout, what shou’d she do there I wonder? Dwells she with matrimonial Thunder, Where Mates, some greedy, some deep Drinkers, Contend with thriftless Mates or Jinkers? This say, ’tis Black; and that, wi’ Spite, Stifly maintains and threeps ’tis White.

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Weary’d at last, quoth he, Let’s see How Branches with their Stocks agree: 75 But here he fand still his Mistake; Some Parents cruel were, some weak; While Bairns ungratefu’ did behave, And wish’d their Parents in the Grave. Has Jove then sent me amang thir Fowk, 80 Cry’d Hermes, here to hunt the Gowk? Well, I have made a waly Round, To seek what is na to be found. Just on the Wing, – towards a Burn A wee Piece aff his Looks did turn; 85 There Mistris Peace he chanc’d to see, Sitting beneath a Willow Tree: And have I found ye at the last? He cry’d aloud, and held her fast. Here I reside, quoth she, and smil’d, 90 With an auld Hermite in this Wild. Well, Madam, said he, I perceive, That ane may lang your Presence crave, And miss ye still; — but this seems plain, To have ye, ane maun be alane. 95

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The Spring and the Syke

The Spring and the Syke. Fed by a living Spring, a Rill Flow’d easily adown a Hill; A thousand Flowers upon its Bank Flourish’d fu’ fair, and grew right rank: Near to its Course a Syke did ly, 5 Whilk was in Simmer after dry, And ne’er recover’d Life again, But after soaking Showers of Rain; Then wad he swell, look big and sprush, And o’er his Margine proudly gush. 10 Ae Day, after great Waughts of Weet, He with the Chrystal Current met, And ran him down with unco’ Din, Said he, How poorly does thou rin? See with what State I dash the Brae, 15 Whilst thou canst hardly make thy Way. The Spring, with a superior Air, Said, Sir, your Brag gives me nae Care; For soon’s ye want your foreign Aid, Your paughty Cracks will soon be laid. Frae my ain Head I have Supply; But you must borrow, else run dry.

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The Daft Bargain.

A Ta le.

At Market anes, I watna how, Twa Herds between them coft a Cow: Driving her hame, the needfu’ Hacky But Ceremony chanc’d to k—. Quoth Rab right ravingly to Raff, 5 Gin ye’ll eat that digested Draff Of Crummy, I shall quat my Part. — A Bargain be’t, with a’ my Heart. Raff soon reply’d, and lick’d his Thumb, To gorble’t up without a Gloom: 10 Syne till’t he fell, and seem’d right yap His Mealtith quickly up to gawp; Haff done, his Heart began to scunner, But lootna on till Rab strak under; Wha fearing Skair of Cow to tine, 15 At his daft Bargain did repine. Well, well, quoth Raff, tho’ ye was rash, I’ll scorn to wrang ye, senseless Hash; Come fa’ to Wark, as I ha’e done, 271

Poems And eat the ither haff as soon, 20 Ye’s save ye’r Part. — Content, quoth Rab. — And slerg’d the rest o’t in his Gab: Now what was tint, or what was won, Is eithly seen. — My Story’s done. — Yet frae this Tale confed’rate States may learn 25 To save their Cow, and yet no eat her Sharn.

The twa Cut-Purses.

A Ta le.

In Borrows-town there was a Fair, And mony a Landart Coof was there Baith Lads and Lasses busked brawly, To glowr at ilka Bonny-waly, And lay out ony ora Bodles 5 On sma’ Gimcracks that pleas’d their Nodles; Sic as a Jocktaleg, or Sheers, Confeckit Ginger, Plums or Pears. These gaping Gowks twa Rogues survey, And on their Cash this Plot they lay; The tane, less like a Knave than Fool, Unbidden clam the high Cockstool, And pat his Head and baith his Hands Throw Holes where the Ill-Doer stands. Now a’ the Crowd with Mouth and Een Cry’d out, What does the Idiot mean? They glowr’d and leugh, and gather’d thick, And never thought upon a Trick, Till he beneath had done his Job, By tooming Poutches of the Mob; Wha now possest of Rowth of Gear, Scour’d aff as lang’s the Cost was clear.

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But wow? the Ferly quickly chang’d, When throw their empty Fobs they rang’d; Some girn’d, and some look’d blae wi’ Grief, 25 While some cry’d ont, Fy had the Thief. But ne’er a Thief or Thief was there, Or cou’d be found in a’ the Fair. The Jip wha stood aboon them a’, His Innocence began to shaw; 30 Said he, my Friends, I’m very sorry To hear your melancholy Story; But sure whate’er your Tinsel be, Ye canna lay the Wyte on me. 272

Epistle to Mr. Yarde

EPISTLE to

Robert Yarde of Devonshire, Esquire. Frae Northern Mountains clad with Snaw, Where whistling Winds incessant blaw, In time now when the Curling-stane Slides murm’ring o’er the icy Plain, What sprightly Tale in Verse can Yarde 5 Expect frae a cauld Scottish Bard, With Brose and Bannocks poorly fed, In Hoden Gray right hashly cled, Skelping o’er frozen Hags with Pingle, Picking up Peets to beet his Ingle, 10 While Sleet that freezes as it fa’s, Theeks as with Glass the Divot Waws Of a laigh Hut, where sax thegither, Ly Heads and Thraws on Craps of Heather? Thus, Sir; of us the Story gaes, 15 By our mair dull and scornfu’ Faes: But let them tauk, and Gowks believe, While we laugh at them in our Sleeve; For we, nor barbarous nor rude, Ne’er want good Wine to warm our Blood, 20 Have Tables crown’d, – and hartsome Biels, And can in Cumin’s, Don’s or Steil’s, Be serv’d as plenteously and civil, As you in London at the Devil. You, Sir, your self wha came and saw, 25 Own’d that we wanted nought at a’, To make us as content a Nation, As any is in the Creation. This Point premis’d, my canty Muse Cocks up her Crest without Excuse, 30 And scorns to screen her natural Flaws, With If’s and But’s, and dull Because; She pukes her Pens, and aims a Flight Throu’ Regions of internal Light, Frae Fancy’s Field, these Truths to bring 35 That you shou’d hear, and she shou’d sing. Langsyne, when Love and Innocence Were humane Nature’s best Defence, E’er Party-jars made Lateth less, Then Poets shaw’d these evenly Roads, 40 273

Poems That lead to Dwellings of the Gods. In these dear Days, well ken’d to Fame, Divini Vates was their Name: It was, and is, and shall be ay, While they move in fair Vertue’s Way. 45 Tho’ rarely we to Stipends reach, Yet nane dare hinder us to preach. Believe me, Sir, the nearest Way To Happiness, is to be gay; For Spleen indulg’d will banish Rest 50 Far frae the Bosoms of the best; Thousands a-year’s no worth a Prin, When e’er this fashous Guest gets in: But a fair competent Estate Can keep a Man frae looking blate, 55 Sae eithly it lays to his Hand What his just Appetites demand. Wha has, and can enjoy, O wow! How smoothly may his Minutes flow? A Youth thus blest with manly Frame, 60 Enliven’d with a lively Flame, Will ne’er with sordid Pinch controul The Satisfaction of his Soul. Poor is that Mind, ay discontent, That canna use what God has lent; 65 But envious girns at a’ he sees, That are a Crown richer than he’s; Which gars him pitifully hane, And Hell’s Ase-middings rake for Gain; Yet never kens a blythsome Hour, 70 Is ever wanting, ever sowr. Yet ae Extreme shou’d never make A Man the gowden Mien forsake. It shaws as much a shallow Mind, And ane extravagantly blind, 75 If careless of his future Fate, He daftly waste a good Estate, And never thinks till Thoughts are vain, And can afford him nought but Pain. Thus will a Joiner’s Shavings bleez, 80 Their Low will for some Seconds please; But soon the glaring Leam is past, And cauldrife Darkness follows fast: While slaw the Fagots large expire, And warm us with a lasting Fire. 85 Then neither, as I ken ye will, With idle Fears your Pleasures spill, Nor with neglecting prudent Care, 274

Epistle to Mr. Yarde Do Skaith to your succeeding Heir. Thus steering cannily throw Life, 90 Your Joys shall lasting be and rife: Give a your Passions room to reel, As lang as Reason guides the Wheel. Desires, tho’ ardent, are nae Crime, When they harmoniously keep Time: 95 But when they spang o’er Reason’s Fence, We smart for’t at our ain Expence To recreate us we’re allow’d, But gaming deep boils up the Blood, And gars ane at Groomporters ban 100 The Being that made him a Man, When his fair Gardens, House and Lands, Are fa’n amongst the Sharpers Hands A chearfu’ Bottle sooths the Mind, Gars Carles grow canty, free and kind; 105 Defeats our Care, and hales our Strife, And brawly oyls the Wheels of Life: But when just Quantums we transgress, Our Blessing turns the quite Reverse. To love the bonny smiling Fair, 110 Nane can their Passions better ware; Yet Love is kittle and unruly, And shou’d move tentily and hooly: For if it get o’er meikle Head, ’Tis fair to gallop ane to dead: 115 O’er ilka Hedge it wildly bounds, And grazes on forbidden Grounds; Where constantly, like Furies, range, Poortith, Diseases, Death, Revenge: To toom anes Pouch to Dunty clever, 120 Or have wrang’d Husband prob ane’s Liver, Or void ane’s Saul out throw a Shanker; In faith ’twad any Mortal canker. Then wale a Virgin worthy you, Worthy your Love and nuptial Vow: 125 Syne frankly range o’er a’ her Charms, Drink deep of Joy within her Arms; Be still delighted with her Breast, And on her Love with Rapture feast. May she be blooming, saft and young, 130 With Graces melting from her Tongue; Prudent and yielding to retain Your Love, as well as you her ain. Thus with your Leave, Sir, I’ve made free 275

Poems To give Advice to ane can gi’e 135 As good again. — But as Mess John Said, when the Sand tald Time as done, “Ha’e Patience, my dear Friends a wee, “And take ae ither Glass frae me; “And if ye think there’s Doublets due, 140 “I shanna bauk the like frae you.” the last

S P E E C H of a

Wretched Miser. O Dool! and am I forc’d to die, And nae mair my dear Siller see, That glanc’d sae sweetly in my Eye! It breaks my Heart; My Gowd! my Bands! alackanie! 5 That we shou’d part. For you I labour’d Night and Day, For you I did my Friends betray, For you on stinking Caff I lay, And Blankets thin; 10 And for your Sake fed mony a Flea Upon my Skin. Like Tantalus I lang have stood Chin deep into a Siller Flood; Yet ne’er was able for my Blood, 15 But Pain and Strife, To ware ae Drap on Claiths or Food, To cherish Life. Or like the wissen’d beardless Wights, Wha herd the Wives of Eastern Knights, 20 Yet ne’er enjoy the saft Delights Of Lasses bony; Thus did I watch lang Days and Nights My lovely Money. Altho’ my Annualrents cou’d feed 25 Thrice forty Fowk that stood in Need, I grudg’d my sell my daily Bread: And if frae hame, My Pouch produc’d an Ingan Head, To please my Wame. 30 276

The last Speech of a wretched Miser To keep you cosie in a Hoord, This Hunger I with Ease endur’d; And never dought a Doit afford To ane of Skill, Wha for a Dollar might have cur’d 35 Me of this Ill. I never wore my Claiths with brushing, Nor wrung away my Sarks with washing; Nor ever sat in Taverns dashing Away my Coin, 40 To find out Wit or Mirth by clashing O’er dearthfu’ Wine. Abiet my Pow was bald and bare, I wore nae frizl’d Limmer’s Hair, Which takes of Flower to keep it fair 45 Frae reesting free, As meikle as wad dine and mair The like of me. Nor kept I Servants, Tales to tell, But toom’d my Coodies a’ my sell; 50 To hane in Candle I had a Spell Baith cheap and bright, A Fish-head, when it ’gins to smell, Gives curious Light. What Reason can I shaw, quo’ ye, 55 To save and starve, to cheat and lie, To live a Beggar, and to die Sae rich in Coin? That’s mair than can be gi’en by me, Tho’ Belzie join. 60 Some said my Looks were groff and sowr, Fretfu’, drumbly, dull and dowr: I own it was na in my Power, My Fears to ding; Wherefore I never cou’d endure 65 To laugh or sing. I ever hated bookish reading, And musical or dancing breeding, And what’s in either Face or Cleading, Of painted things; 70 I thought nae Pictures worth the heeding, Except the King’s. 277

Poems Now of a’ them the Eard e’er bure, I never Rhimers cou’d endure, They’re sic a sneering Pack, and poor, 75 I hate to ken ’em; For ’gainst us thrifty Sauls they’re sure To spit their Venom. But water Wives, the warst of a’, Without a Youk they gar ane claw, 80 When wickedly they bid us draw Our Siller Spungs, For this and that, to make them braw, And lay their Tongues. Some loo the Courts, some loo the Kirks, 85 Some loo to keep their Skins frae Lirks, Some loo to woo beneath the Birks Their Lemans bony; For me, I took them a’ for Stirks That loo’d na Money. 90 They ca’d me Slave to Usury, Squeez, cleave the Hair, and peel the Flee, Clek, flae the Flint, and Penury, And sauless Wretch; But that ne’er skaith’d or troubled me, 95 Gin I grew rich. On Profit a’ my Thoughts were bent, And mony Thousands have I lent, But sickerly I took good tent, That double Pawns, 100 With a Cudeigh, and ten per Cint Lay in my Hands. When Borrow’rs brak, the Pawns were Rug, Rings, Beads of Pearl, or Siller Jug, I sald them aff, ne’er fash’d my Lug 105 With Girns or Curses, The mair they whing’d, it gart me hug My swelling Purses. Sometimes I’d sigh, and ape a Saint, And with a lang Rat-rhime of Cant, 110 Wad make a Mane for them in want; But for ought mair, I never was the Fool to grant Them ony Skair. 278

The last Speech of a wretched Miser I thought ane freely might pronounce 115 That Chiel a very silly Dunce, That cou’d not Honestly renounce, With Ease and Joys, At ony time, to win an Ounce Of yellow Boys. 120 When young I some Remorse did feel, And liv’d in Terror of the Deel, His Furnace, Whips, and racking Wheel; But by Degrees, My Conscience grown as hard as Steel, 125 Gave me some Ease. But Fears of Want, and carking Care To save my Stock, — and Thirst for mair, By Night and Day opprest me sair, And turn’d my Head; 130 While Friends appear’d like Harpies Gare, That wish’d me dead. For fear of Thieves I aft lay waking The live lang Night till Day was breaking, Syne throu’ my Sleep, with Heart sair aking, 135 I’ve aften started, Thinking I heard my Windows cracking, When Elspa f——. O Gear! I held ye lang thegither; For you I starv’d my good auld Mither, 140 And to Virginia sald my Brither, And crush’d my Wife; But now I’m gawn I kenna whither, To leave my Life. My Life! my God! my Spirit earns, 145 Not on my Kindred, Wife or Bairns, Sic are but very laigh Concerns, Compar’d with thee! When now this mortal Rotle warns Me I maun die. 150 It to my Heart gaes like a Gun, To see my Kin and graceless Son, Like Rooks already are begun To thumb my Gear, And Cash that has not seen the Sun 155 This fifty Year. Oh, oh! that spendthrift Son of mine, 279

Poems Wha can on roasted Moorfowl dine, And like Dub-water skink the Wine, And dance and sing; 160 He’ll soon gar my dear Darlings dwine Down to nathing. To that same Place, where e’er I gang, O cou’d I bear my Wealth alang! Nae Heir shou’d e’er a Farthing fang, 165 That thus carouses, Tho’ they shou’d a’ on Woodies hang, For breaking Houses. Perdition! Sathan! is that you! I sink! — am dizzy! — Candle blue. 170 Wi’ that he never mair play’d pew, But with a Rair, Away his wretched Spirit flew, It maksna where.

Tit for Tat. Be-south our Channel, where ’tis common To be Priest-ridden, Man and Woman; A Father, anes in grave Procession, Went to receive a Wight’s Confession, Whase Sins, lang-gather’d, now began 5 To Burden sair his inner Man. But happy they that can with Ease Sling aff sic Laids when e’er they please. Lug out your Sins, and eke your Purses, And soon your kind spiritual Nurses 10 Will ease you of these heavy Turses.

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Cries Hodge, and sighs, Ah! Father Ghostly, I lang’d anes for some Jewels costly, And staw them frae a sneaking Miser, Wha was a wicked cheating Squeezer, 15 And much had me and other wrang’d, For which I aften wish’d him hang’d. The Father says, I own, my Son, To rob or pilfer is ill done; But I can eith forgive the Faut, 20 Since it is only Tit for Tat. The sighing Penitent gade furder, And own’d his anes designing Murder; That he had lent ane’s Guts a Skreed, 280

Tit for Tat Wha had gi’en him a broken Head. Replies the Priest, My Son, ’tis plain That’s only Tit for Tat again. But still the Sinner sighs and sobs, And cries, Ah! these are venial Jobs To the black Crime that yet behind Lyes like Auld Nick upon my Mind: I dare na name’t; I’d lure be strung Up by the Neck, or by the Tongue, As speak it out to you: Believe me, The Faut you never wad forgive me. The haly Man, with pious Care, Intreated, pray’d, and spake him fair, Conjur’d him, as he hop’d for Heaven, To tell his Crime, and be forgiven. Well then, says Hodge, if it maun be, Prepare to hear a Tale frae me, That when ’tis tald, I’m unko feard Ye’ll wish it never had been heard. Ah me! your Reverence’s Sister, Ten times I carnally have — kist her. All’s fair, returns the Reverend Brother, I’ve done the samen with your Mother Three times as aft; and sae for that We’re on a Level, Tit for Tat.

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E P I S T L E

From Mr. William Starrat

Teacher of Mathematicks at Straban in Ireland.

Ae windy Day last Owk, I’ll ne’er forget, I think I hear the Hailstanes rattling yet; On Crochan Buss my Hirdsell took the Lee, As ane wad wish, just a’ beneath my Ee: I in the Beild of yon auld Birk-tree Side, Poor cauldrife Coly whing’d aneath my Plaid, Right tozylie was set to ease my Stumps, Well hap’d with Bountith-hose and twa soll’d Pumps; Syne on my Four-hours Luntion chew’d my Cude, Sik Kilter pat me in a merry Mood: My Whistle frae my Blanket-nook I drew, And lilted owre thir twa three Lines to You. Blaw up my Heart-strings ye Pierian Quines, That ga’e the Grecian Bards their bony Rimes, And learn’d the Latin Lowns sic Springs to play, As gars the Warld gang dancing to this Day. 281

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Poems In vain I seek your Help; ’tis bootless Toil With sic dead Ase to muck a Moorland Soil, Give me the Muse that calls past Ages back, And shaws proud Southren Sangsters their Mistake, That frae their Thames can fetch the Laurel North, And big Parnassus on the Frith of Forth.

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Thy Breast alane this gladsome Guest does fill With Strains, that warm our Hearts like Cannel Gill, And learns thee in thy umquhile Gutcher’s Tongue, 25 The blithest Lilts that e’er my Lugs heard sung. RAMSAY! for ever live: For wha like you In deathless Sang sic Life-like Pictures drew? Not he wha whilome with his Harp cou’d ca’ The dancing Stanes to big the Theban Wa’; 30 Nor he (shamefa’s Fool Head) as Stories tell Could whistle back an auld dead Wife frae Hell; Nor e’en the loyal Brooker of Bell-Trees, Wha sang with hungry Wame his want of Fees; Not Haby’s Dron cou’d with thy Wind-pipe please, 35 When in his well kend Clink thou manes the Death Of Lucky Wood and Spence (a matchless Skaith To Canigate) sae gash thy Gab-trees gang, The Carlines live for ever in thy Sang.

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Or when the Country Bridal thou pursues, To red the Regal Tulzie sets thy Muse, Thy soothing Sangs bring canker’d Carles to Ease, Some lowps to Lutter’s Pipe, some birls Bawbies.

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But gin to graver Notes thou tunes thy Breath, And sings poor Sandy’s Grief for Edie’s Death, 45 Or Matthew’s Loss; the Lambs in Consort mae, And lanesome Ringwood youls upon the Brae. Good God! What tuneless Heart-strings wadna twang, When Love and Beauty animates thy Sang? Skies echoe back, when thou blaws up thy Reed, In Burchet’s Praise, for clapping of thy Head: And when thou bids the paughty Czar stand yon, The Wandought seems beneath thee on his Throne. Now, be my Saul, and I have nought behin, And weil I wat fause Swearing is a Sin, I’d rather have thy Pipe, and twa three Sheep, Than a’ the Gold the Monarchs Coffers keep. COLY, look out, the few we have’s gane wrang, This se’nteen Owks I have not play’d sae lang; Ha, Crummy, ha –– trowth I maun quat my Sang. But, Lad, neist Mirk we’ll to the Haining drive,

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Epistle from Mr. Starrat When in fresh Lizar they get Spleet and rive; The Royts will rest, and gin ye like my Play, I’ll whistle to thee all the live lang Day.

To Mr. William Starrat, on receiving the above Epistle. Frae fertile Fields, where nae curs’d Ethers creep, To stang the Herds that in Rash-busses sleep; Frae where Saint Patrick’s Blessing freed the Bogs Frae Taids, and Asks, and ugly creeping Frogs; Welcome to me’s the Sound of STARRAT’s Pipe, 5 Welcome, as Westlen Winds, or Berries ripe, When speeling up the Hill, the Dog-days Heat Gars a young thirsty Shepherd pant and sweat: Thus while I climb the Muses Mount with Care, Sic friendly Praises give refreshing Air. 10 O! may the Lasses loo thee for thy Pains, And may thou lang breathe healsome o’er the Plains: Lang mayst thou teach, with round and nooked Lines, Substantial Skill, that’s worth rich Siller Mines; To shaw how Wheels can gang with greatest Ease, 15 And what Kind Barks sails smoothest o’er the Seas; How Wind-mills shou’d be made, — and how they work The Thumper that tells Hours upon the Kirk: How Wedges rive the Aik: — How Pullieses Can lift on highest Roofs the greatest Trees; 20 Rug frae its Roots the Craig of Edinburgh Castle, As easily as I cou’d break my Whistle. — What Pleughs fits a wet Soil, and whilk the dry; And mony a thousand useful Things forby. I own ’tis cauld Encouragement to sing, When round ane’s Lugs the blatran Hailstanes ring; But feckfu’ Folk can front the bauldest Wind, And slonk thro’ Moors, and never fash their Mind. Aft have I wid throu’ Glens with chorking Feet, When neither Plaid nor Kelt cou’d fend the Weet; Yet blythly wald I bang out o’er the Brae, And stend o’er Burns as light as ony Rae, Hoping the Morn might prove a better Day. Then let’s to Lairds and Ladies leave the Spleen, While we can dance and whistle o’er the Green. Mankind’s Account of Good and Ill’s a Jest, Fancy’s the Rudder, and Content’s a Feast. Dear Friend of mine, ye but o’er meikle roose The lawly Mints of my poor moorland Muse, Wha looks but blate, when even’d to either twa,

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Poems That lull’d the Deel, or bigg’d the Theban Wa’; But trowth ’tis natural for us a’ to wink At our ain Fauts, and Praises frankly drink: Fair fa’ ye then, and may your Flocks grow rife, And may nae Elf twin Crummy of her Life. The Sun shines sweetly, a’ the Lift looks blue, O’er Glens hing hovering Clouds of rising Dew; Maggy, the bonniest Lass of a’ our Town, Brent is her Brow, her Hair a curly brown, I have a Tryst with her, and maun away, Then ye’ll excuse me till anither Day, When I’ve mair Time; for shortly I’m to sing Some dainty Sangs, that sall round Crochan ring.

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Bonny Christy. How sweetly smells the Simmer green? Sweet taste the Peach and Cherry; Painting and Order please our Een, And Claret makes us merry: But finest Colours, Fruits and Flowers, 5 And Wine, tho’ I be thirsty, Lose a’ their Charms and weaker Powers, Compar’d with those of Christy. When wand’ring o’er the flowry Park, No nat’ral Beauty wanting; 10 How lightsome is’t to hear the Lark, And Birds in Consort chanting? But if my Christy tunes her Voice, I’m rap’t in Admiration; My Thoughts with Extasies rejoice, 15 And drap the hale Creation. When e’er she smiles a kindly Glance, I take the happy Omen, And aften mint to make Advance, Hoping she’ll prove a Woman. 20 But dubious of my ain Desert, My Sentiments I smother, With secret Sighs I vex my Heart, For fear she love another. Thus sang blate Edie by a Burn, 25 His Christy did o’er-hear him; She doughtna let her Lover mourn, But e’er he wist drew near him. She spake her Favour with a Look, 284

Bonny Christy Which left nae Room to doubt her; 30 He wisely this white Minute took, And flang his Arms about her. My Christy! — witness bony Stream, Sic Joys frae Tears arising, I wish this may na be a Dream: O Love the maist surprising Time was too precious now for Tauk, This Point of a’ his Wishes; He wadna with set Speeches bauk, But wair’d it a’ on Kisses.

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The bonny Scot,

To the Tune of, The Boat-man. Ye Gales that gently wave the Sea, And please the canny Boat-man, Bear me frae hence, or bring to me My brave, my bonny Scot — Man. In haly Bands 5 We join’d our Hands; Yet may not this discover, While Parents rate A large Estate, Before a faithfu’ Lover. 10 But I loor chuse in Highland Glens To herd the Kid and Goat — Man, E’er I cou’d for sic little Ends Refuse my bonny Scot — Man. Wae worth the man 15 Wha first began The base ungenerous Fashion, Frae greedy Views Love’s Art to use, While Strangers to its Passion. 20 Frae foreign Fields, my lovely Youth, Haste to thy longing Lassie, Wha pants to press thy bawmy Mouth, And in her Bosom hawse thee. Love gi’es the Word, 25 Then haste on Board, Fair winds and tenty Boat-man, Waft o’er, waft o’er Frae yonder Shore My blyth, my bonny Scot — Man. 30 285

Poems

Love Inviting Reason. A SONG to the Tune of, I am asleep, do not waken me. When innocent Pastime our Pleasure did crown, Upon a green Meadow, or under a Tree, E’er Annie became a fine Lady in Town, How lovely and loving, and bony was she! Rouze up thy Reason, my beautifu’ Annie, 5 Let ne’er a new Whim ding thy Fancy a-jee, O! as thou art bonny, be faithfu’ and canny, And favour thy Jamie, wha doats upon thee. Does the Death of a Lintwhite give Annie the Spleen? Can tyning of Trifles be uneasy to thee? 10 Can Lap-dogs and Monkies draw Tears frae these Een, That look with Indifference on poor dying me? Rouze up thy Reason, my beautifu’ Annie, And dinna prefer a Paroquet to me; O! as thou art bonny, be prudent and canny, 15 And think on thy Jamie, wha doats upon thee. Ah! shou’d a new Gown, or a Flanders Lace Head, Or yet a wee Coatie, tho’ never sae fine, Gar thee grow forgetfu’, and let his Heart bleed, That anes had some Hope of purchasing thine? 20 Rouze up thy Reason, my beautifu’ Annie, And dinna prefer ye’r Fleegeries to me; O! as thou art bonny, be solid and canny, And tent a true Lover that dotes upon thee. Shall a Paris Edition of new fangle Sany, 25 Tho’ gilt o’er wi’ Laces and Fringes he be, By adoring himself, be admir’d by fair Annie, And aim at these Bennisons promis’d to me? Rouze up thy Reason, my beautifu’ Annie, And never prefer a light Dancer to me; 30 O! as thou art bonny, be constant and canny, Love only thy Jamie, wha doats upon thee. O! think, my dear Charmer, on ilka sweet Hour, That slade away saftly between thee and me, E’er Squirrels, or Beaus, or Fopery had Power, 35 To rival my Love, and impose upon thee. Rouze up thy Reason, my beautifu’ Annie, And let thy Desires be a’ center’d in me; O! as thou art bonny, be faithfu’ and canny, And love him wha’s langing to center in thee. 40

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The Bob of Dunblane

The Bob of Dunblane. Lassie, lend me your braw Hemp Heckle, And I’ll lend you my Thripling Kame; For Fainness, Deary, I’ll gar ye keckle, If ye’ll go dance the Bob of Dunblane. Haste ye, gang to the Ground of ye’r Trunkies, 5 Busk ye braw, and dinna think shame; Consider in Time, if leading of Monkies, Be better than dancing the Bob of Dunblane. Be frank, my Lassie, lest I grow fickle, And take my Word and Offer again; Syne ye may chance to repent it miekle, Ye did na accept the Bob of Dunblane. The Dinner, the Piper and Priest shall be ready, And I’m grown dowie with lying my lane; Away then leave baith Minny and Dady, And try with me the Bob of Dunblane.

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Throw the Wood Laddie. O Sandy, why leaves thou thy Nelly to mourn? Thy Presence cou’d ease me, When nathing can please me; Now dowie I sigh on the Bank of the Burn, Or throw the Wood, Laddie, until thou return.

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Tho’ Woods now are bonny, and Mornings are clear, While Lavrocks are singing, And Primroses springing; Yet nane of them pleases my Eye or my Ear, When throw the Wood, Laddie, ye dinna appear.

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That I am forsaken, some spare not to tell; I’m fash’d wi’ their Scorning, Baith Ev’ning and Morning: Their Jeering gaes aft to my Heart wi’ a Knell, When throw the Wood, Laddie, I wander my sell.

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Then stay, my dear Sandy, nae langer away; But quick as an Arrow, Hast here to thy Marrow, Wha’s living in Languor till that happy Day; When throw the Wood, Laddie, we’ll dance, sing, and play.

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Poems

Ann thou were my ain thing. Ann thou were my ain Thing, I would love thee, I would love thee; Ann thou were my ain Thing, How dearly would I love thee. Like Bees that suck the Morning Dew 5 Frae Flowers of sweetest Scent and Hew, Sae wad I dwell upo’ thy Mou, And gar the Gods envy me. Ann thou were, &c. Sae lang’s I had the Use of Light, I’d on thy Beauties feast my Sight, 10 Syne in saft Whispers through the Night, I’d tell how much I lo’d thee. Ann thou were, &c. How fair and ruddy is my Jean! She moves a Goddess o’er the Green: Were I a King, thou shou’d be Queen, 15 Nane but my sell aboon thee. Ann thou were, &c. I’d grasp thee to this Breast of mine, Whilst thou, like Ivy, or the Vine, Around my stronger Limbs shou’d twine, Form’d hardy to defend thee. Ann thou were, &c.

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Time’s on the Wing, and will not stay, In shining Youth let’s make our Hay, Since Love admits of no Delay, O! let nae Scorn undo thee. Ann thou were, &c. While Love does at his Altar stand, 25 Hae there’s my Heart, gi’e me thy Hand, And with ilk Smile thou shalt command The Will of him wha loes thee. Ann thou were, &c.

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There’s my Thumb I’ll ne’er beguile thee.

There’s my Thumb I’ll ne’er beguile thee. My sweetest May, let Love incline thee T’ accept a Heart which he designs thee, And as your constant Slave regard it, Syne for its Faithfulness reward it; ’Tis Proof a-shot to Birth or Money, 5 But yields to what is sweet and bonny: Receive it then with a Kiss and a Smily, There’s my Thumb it will ne’er beguile ye. How tempting sweet these Lips of thine are! Thy Bosom white, and legs sae fine are, 10 That when in Pools I see thee clean ’em, They carry away my Heart between ’em. I wish, and I wish, while it gaes duntin, O gin I had thee on a Mountain; Tho’ Kith and Kin and a’ shou’d revile thee, 15 There’s my Thumb I’ll ne’er beguile thee. Alane through flow’ry Hows I dander, Tenting my Flocks, lest they shou’d wander; Gin thou’ll gae alang, I’ll dawt thee gaylie, And gi’e my thumb I’ll ne’er beguile thee. O my dear Lassie, it is but Daffin To had thy Woer up ay niff naffin: That Na, na, na, I hate it most vilely; O say, Yes, and I’ll ne’er beguile thee.

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The Highland Laddie. The Lawland Lads think they are fine, But O they’re vain and idly gaudy! How much unlike that gracefu’ Mein, And manly Looks of my Highland Laddie? O my bonny, bonny Highland Laddie, 5 My handsome charming Highland Laddie: May Heaven still guard, and Love reward Our Lawland Lass and her Highland Laddie. If I were free at Will to chuse To be the wealthiest Lawland Lady, 10 I’d take young Donald without Trews, With Bonnet blew, and belted Plaidy. O my bonny, &c. The brawest Beau in Borrows-town, 289

Poems In a’ his Airs, with Art made ready, Compar’d to him, he’s but a Clown; 15 He’s finer far in’s Tartan Plaidy. O my bonny, &c. O’er benty Hill with him I’ll run, And leave my Lawland Kin and Dady; Frae Winter’s Cauld and Summer’s Sun, He’ll screen me with his Highland Plaidy. O my bonny, &c.

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A painted Room and silken Bed, May please a Lawland Laird and Lady; But I can kiss, and be as glad Behind a Bush in’s Highland Plaidy. O my bonny, &c. Few Compliments between us pass, 25 I ca’ him my dear Highland Laddie; And he ca’s me his Lawland Lass: Syne rows me in his Highland Plaidy O my bonny, &c. Nae greater Joy I’ll e’er pretend, Than that his Love prove true and steady, 30 Like mine to him; which ne’er shall end, While Heaven preserve my Highland Laddie. O my bonny, &c.

The Coalier’s bonny Lassie. The Coalier has a Daughter, And O she’s wonder bonny; A Laird he was that sought her, Rich baith in Lands and Money. The Tutors watch’d the Motion 5 Of this young honest Lover: But Love is like the Ocean; Wha can its Depth discover? He had the Art to please ye, And was by a’ respected; 10 His Airs sat round him easy, Genteel, but unaffected. The Coalier’s bonny Lassie Fair as the new blown Lilly, Ay sweet, and never saucy, 15 290

The Coalier's bonny Lassie Secur’d the Heart of Willy. He lov’d beyond Expression The Charms that were about her, And panted for Possession; His Life was dull without her. 20 After mature resolving, Close to his Breast he held her, In saftest Flames dissolving, He tenderly thus tell’d her; My bonny Coalier’s Daughter, 25 Let nathing discompose ye, ’Tis no your scanty Tocher Shall ever gar me lose ye; For I have Gear in Plenty, And Love says, ’tis my Duty 30 To ware what Heaven has lent me Upon your Wit and Beauty.

To L. L. in Mourning. To the Tune of, Where Helen lyes. Ah! why those Tears in Nelly’s Eyes? To hear thy tender Sighs and Cries, The Gods stand list’ning from the Skies. Pleas’d with thy Piety. To mourn the Dead, dear Nymph, forbear, 5 And of one dying take a Care, Who views thee as an Angel fair, Or some Divinity. O be less graceful or more kind, And cool this Fever of my Mind, 10 Caused by the Boy severe and blind, Wounded I sigh for thee; While hardly dare I hope to rise To such a Height, by Hymen’s Tyes, To lay me down where Helen lyes, 15 And with thy Charms be free. Then must I hide my Love and die, When such a sovereign Cure is by? No, she can love, and I’ll go try, Whate’er my Fate may be. Which soon I’ll read in her bright Eyes; With those dear Agents I’ll advise, They tell the Truth, when Tongues tell Lies, The least believ’d by me. 291

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With a Pastoral Recitative on the Marriage of the Right Honourable, James Earl of Wemys and Mrs. Janet Charteris. RECITATIVE. Last Morn young Rosalind, with laughing Een, Met with the singing Shepherd on the Green; Armyas height, wha us’d with tunefu’ Lay To please the Ear, when he began to play: Him with a Smile the blooming Lass addrest; Her chearfu’ Look her inward Joy confest.

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ROSALIND. Dear Shepherd, now exert your wonted Fire, I’ll tell you News that shall your Thoughts inspire. ARMYAS. Out wi’ them, bonny Lass, and if they’ll bear, But Ceremony you a Sang shall hear. 10 ROSALIND. They’ll bear, and do invite the blithest Strains, The beauteous CHARTERISSA of these Plains, Still to them dear, wha late made us sae wae, When we heard tell she was far aff to gae, And leave our heartsome Fields, her native Land, Now’s ta’en in time, and fixt by Hymen’s Band.

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ARMYAS. To whom? Speak fast; — I hope ye dinna jeer. ROASLIND. No, no, my Dear, ’tis true, as we stand here. The Thane of Fife, wha lately wi’ his Flane, And Vizy leel, made the Blyth Bowl his ain: 20 He, the Delight of baith the Sma’ and Great, Wha’s bright Beginning spae his sonsy Fate, Has gain’d her Heart; and now their mutual Flame Retains the Fair, and a’ her Wealth, at Hame. ARMYAS. Now Rosalind, may never Sorrow twine 25 Sae near your Heart, as Joy arise in mine. Come kiss me, Lassie, and you’s hear me sing A Bridal Sang that thro’ the Woods shall ring. 292

Ode on the Marriage of the E. of Wemys ROSALIND. Ye’r ay sae daft, come take it, and hae done; Let a’ the Lines be saft, and sweet the Tune.

Armyas Sings. Come, Shepherds, a’ your Whistles join, And shaw your blythest Faces; The Nymph that we were like to tine, At hame her Pleasure places. Lilt up your Notes baith loud and gay, Yer sweet as Philomella’s, And yearly solemnize the Day When this good Luck befell us,

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Hail to the Thane descended frae MACDUFF renown’d in Story, 40 Wha Albion, frae tyrannick Sway, Restor’d to ancient Glory: His early Blossoms loud proclaim, That frae this Stem he rises, Whase Merit gives him Right to Fame, 45 And to the highest Prizes. His lovely Countess sing, ye Swains, Nae Subject can be sweeter; The best of Blood flows in her Veins, Which makes ilk Grace compleater: Bright are the Beauties of her Mind, Which frae her Dawn of Reason, With a’ the Rays of Wit hath shin’d, Which Vertue still did season. Straight at the Plane her Features fair, And bonny to a Wonder; Were Jove rampaging in the Air, Her Smiles might stap his Thunder. Rejoice in her then, Happy Youth; Her innate Worth’s a Treasure; Her Sweetness a’ your Cares will sooth, And furnish endless Pleasure.

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Lang may ye live t’ enjoy her Charms, And lang lang may they blossom, Securely screen’d within your Arms, 65 And lodged in your Bosom. Thrice happy Parents, justly may Your Breasts with Joy be fired, When you the darling Pair survey, By a’ the Warld admired. 70 293

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On seeing the ARCHERS diverting themselves at the Buts and Rovers, &c. At the Desire of Sir William Bennet. Neque semper arcum tendit Apollo. Apollo aft flings by his Bows, And plays the Broom of Cowden-knows; He sometimes drinks, —— His Demand. “The Rovers and the Buts you saw, “And him who gives Despotick Law; “In Numbers sing what you have seen “Both in the Garden and the Green, “And how with Wine they clos’d the Day 5 “In harmless Toasts, both blyth and gay: “This to remember be’t thy Care, “How they did Justice to the Fair.” The Answer. Sir, I with much Delight beheld The Royal Archers on the Field; 10 Their Garb, their Manner and their Game, Wakes in the Mind a martial Flame. To see them draw the bended Yew, Brings bygane Ages to our View, When burnish’d Swords and whizzing Flanes 15 Forbade the Norwegens and Danes, Romans and Saxons, to invade A Nation of nae Faes afraid; Whose Virtue and true Valour sav’d Them bravely from their being enslav’d: 20 esteeming’t greater not to be, Than lose their darling Liberty. How much unlike! — But mum for that, Some Beaus may snarl if we should prat. When Av’rice, Luxury and Ease, 25 A Tea-fac’d Generation please, Whase pithless Limbs in Silks o’erclad, Scarce bear the Lady-handed Lad Frae’s Looking-glass into the Chair, Which bears him to blaflum the Fair, 30 Wha by their Actions come to ken Sic are but in appearance Men. These ill cou’d bruik, without a Beild, To sleep in Boots upon the Field; 294

On seeing the Archers, &c. Yet rise as glorious as the Sun, 35 To end what greatly they begun. Nor cou’d it suit their Taste and Pride To eat an Ox boild in his Hide; Or quaff pure Element, ah me! Without Ream, Sugar and Bohee. 40 Hail noble Ghosts of each brave Sire! Whose Sauls glow’d with a God-like Fire! If you’re to Guardian Posts assign’d, And can with Greatness warm the Mind; Breathe manly Ardours in your Race, Communicate that martial Grace, By which through Ages you maintain’d The Caledonian Rights unstain’d; That when our Nation makes Demands, She may ne’er want brave Hearts and Hands.

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Here, Sir, I must your Pardon ask, If I have started from my Task; For when the Fancy takes a Flight, We seldom ken where it will light. But we return to view the Band, 55 Under the regular Command Of *8ane wha arbitrarily sways, And makes it Law whate’er he says: Him Honour and true Reason rule, Which makes Submission to his Will 60 Nae Slav’ry, but a just Delight, While he takes care to keep them right; Wha never lets a Cause depend Till the Pursuer’s Power’s at End; But, like a Minister of Fate, 65 He speaks, and there’s no more Debate: Best Government, were Subjects sure To find a Prince fit for sic Pow’r. But drop we Cases not desir’d, To paint the Archers, now retir’d 70 From healthfu’ Sport, to chearfu’ Wine, Strength to recruit, and Wit refine; Where innocent and blythsome Tale Permits nae Sourness to prevail: Here, Sir, you never fail to please, 75 Wha can in Phrase adapt with Ease, Draw to the Life a’ kind of Fowks, Proud Shaups, dull Coofs, and gabbling Gowks, * Mr. David Drummond President of the Council.

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Poems Gielaingers, and each greedy Wight, You place them in their proper Light; 80 And when true Merit comes in view, You fully pay them what’s their due. While circling wheels the hearty Glass, Well flavour’d with some lovely Lass, Or with the bonny fruitfu’ Dame, 85 Wha brightens in the nuptial Flame. My Lord, your Toast, the Præses crys: To Lady Charlotte, he replys. Now, Sir, let’s hear your Beauty bright: To Lady Jean, returns the Knight. 90 To Hamilton a Health gaes round, And one to Eglinton is crown’d. How sweet they taste! — Now, Sir, you say: Then drink to her that’s far away, The lov’d Southesk. Neist, Sir, you name: 95 I give you Basil’s handsome Dame. Is’t come to me? — then toast the Fair That’s fawn, O Cockburn, to thy Skair. How hearty went these Healths about! Bow blythly were they waughted out! 100 To a’ the Stately, Fair and Young, Frae Haddington and Hoptoun sprung, To Lithgow’s Daughter in her Bloom, To dear Mackay, and comely Home, To Creightons every way divine, 105 To Haldane straight as any Pine. O how delicious was the Glass Which was perfum’d with lovely Bess! And sae these Rounds were flowing gi’en, To Sisters Nisbet, Nell and Jean. 110 To sweet Montgomery shining fair, To Priestfield Twins, delightfu’ Pair. To Katies Four of beauteous Fame, Stuart and Cochran Lady claim, Third Hamilton, Fourth Ardress Name. 115 To Peggies Pentland, Bang and Bell, To Minto’s Mate, and lively Nell: To Gordons ravishingly sweet, To Maule in whom the Graces meet, To Hepburn wha has Charms in store, 120 To Pringle Harmony all o’er, To the polite Kinloch and Hay, To Wallace beautifu’ and gay, To Campbell, Skeen and Rutherfoord, To Maitland fair the much ador’d, 125 To Lockhart with the sparkling Een,

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On seeing the Archers, &c. To bonny Crawford ever green, To Stuarts mony a dazling Bairn, Of Invernytie and Denairn. To gracefu’ Sleigh, and Oliphant, 130 To Nasmith, Baird, Scot, Grier and Grant, To Clerk, Anstruther, Frank and Graham, To Deans agreeing with her Name. Where are we now —. Come, to the best In Christendom, and a’ the rest. 135 (Dear Nymphs unnam’d, lay not the Blame On us, or on your want of Fame, That in this List you do not stand; For Heads gave way: — But there’s my Hand, The neist time we have sic a Night, 140 We’ll not neglect to do ye Right.) Thus Beauties rare, and Virgins fine, With blooming Belles enliven’d our Wind, Till a’ our Noses ’gan to shine.

} Then down we look’d upon the Great, 145 Who’re plagu’d with guiding of the State, And pity’d each flegmatick Wight, Whose creeping Sauls ken nae Delight, But keep themsells ay on the Gloom, Startled with Fears of what’s to come. 150 Poor Passions! sure by Fate design’d The Mark of an inferior Mind. To Heaven a filial Fear we awe, But Fears nane else a Man shou’d shaw. Lads, cock your Bonnets, bend your Bows, 155 And, or in earnest, or in mows, Be still successful, ever glad, In Mars’s or in Venus’ Bed; Sae Bards aloud shall chant your Praise, And Ladies shall your Spirits raise. 160 Thus, Sir, I’ve sung what you requir’d, As Mars and Venus have inspir’d. While they inspire, and you approve, I’ll sing brave Deeds, and safter Love; Till great Apollo say well done, 165 And own me for his native Son.

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Wrote on Lady Somervile’s Book of Scots Sangs. Gae, canty Book, and win a Name; Nae Lyricks e’er shall ding thee: Hope large Esteem, and lasting Fame, If SOMERVILLA sing thee. If she thy sinless Faults forgive, 5 Which her sweet Voice can cover, Thou shalt in spite of Criticks live Still grateful to each Lover. THE

N U P T I A L S,

A MASQUE *9on the Marriage of his Grace James Duke of Hamilton and Brandon, &c.

Calliope, playing upon a Violencello, sings,

Joy to the Bridegroom, Prince of Clyde, Lang may his Bliss and Greatness blossom; * An unknown ingenious Friend did me the Honour of the following Introduction to the London Edition of this Masque; and being a Poet, my Vanity will be pardoned for incerting of it here. “The present Poem being a Revival of a good old Form of Poetry, in high Repute with us, it may not be amiss to say something of a Diversion once so agreeable, and so long interrupted, or disused. The Original of Masques seems to be an Imitation of the Interludes of the Ancients, presented on Occasion of some Ceremony performed in a great and noble Family. The Actors in this kind of Half-Dramatic Poetry have formerly been even Kings, Princes, and the first Personages of the Kingdom; and in private Families, the noblest and nearest Branches. The Machinery was of the greatest Magnificence; very shewy, costly, and not uncommonly contrived by the ablest Architects, as well as the best Poets. Thus we see in Ben. Johnson the Name of Inigo Jones, and the same in Carew; whether as the Modeller only, or as Poet in Conjunction with them, seems to be doubtful, there being nothing of our English Virtuvius left (that I know of) that places him in the Class of Writers. These Shews we trace backwards as far as Henry VIII. from thence to Q. Elizabeth, and her Successor K. James, who was both a great Encourager and Admirer of them. The last Masque, and the best ever written, was that of Milton, presented at Ludlow Castle, in the Praise of which no Words can be too many: And I remember to have heard the late excellent Mr. Addison agree with me in that Opinion. Coronations, Princely Nuptials, Public Feasts, the Entertainment of foreign Quality, were the usual Occasions of this Performance, and the best Poet of the Age was courted to be the Author. Mr. Ramsay has made a noble and successful Attempt to revive this kind of Poesy, on a late celebrated Account. And tho’ he is often to be admired in all his Writings, yet, I think, never more than in his present Composition. A particular Friend gave it a Second Edition in England, which, I fancy, the Public will agree that it deserved.”

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The Nuptials Joy to his virtuous charming Bride, Who gains this Day his Grace’s Bosom. Appear, great Genius of his Line, And bear a Part in the Rejoicing; Behold your Ward, by Powers Divine, Join’d with a Mate of their ain choosing. Forsake a while the Cyprian Scene, Fair Queen of Smiles and saft Embraces, And hither come, with a’ your Train Of Beauties, Loves, and Sports, and Graces.

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Come, Hymen, bless their Nuptial Vow, And them with mutual Joys inspire. Descend, Minerva, for ’tis you 15 With Virtue beets the haly Fire. At the Close of this Song, enters the Genius of the Family, clad in a Scarlet Robe, with a Duke’s Coronet on his Head, a Shield on his left Arm, with the proper Bearing of Hamilton.

GENIUS. Fair Mistris of harmonious Sounds, we hear Thy Invitation gratefu’ to the Ear; Of a’ the Gods, who from the Olympian Height Bow down their Heads, and in thy Notes delight, Jove keeps this Day in his Imperial Dome, And I to lead th’ invited Guests am come.

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Enter Venus, attended by three Graces, with Minerva and Hymen, all in their proper Dresses.

CALLIOPE. Welcome, ye bright Divinities, that guard The Brave and Fair, and faithfu’ Love reward; All hail, immortal Progeny of Jove, 25 Who plant, preserve and proper sacred Love. GENIUS. Be still auspicious to th’ united Pair, And let their purest Pleasures be your Care; Your Stores of genial Blessings here employ, To crown th’ Illustrious Youth and Fair-ane’s Joy.

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VENUS. I’ll breathe eternal Sweets in ev’ry Air; HE shall look always Great, SHE ever Fair; Kind Rays shall mix the Sparkles of his Eye, Round her the Loves in smiling Crowds shall fly, And bear frae ilka Glance, on douny Wings,

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Poems Into his ravish’d Heart the saftest Things: And soon as Hymen has perform’d his Rites, I’ll show’r on them my hale Idalian Sweets They shall posses, In each Caress, 40 Delights shall tire The Muses Sire, In highest Numbers to express. HYMEN. I’ll busk their Bow’r, and lay them gently down, Syne langing Wish with Raptures crown; 45 The gloomy Nights shall ne’er unwelcome prove, That leads them to the silent Scenes of Love. The Sun at Morn shall dart his kindest Rays, To chear and animate each dear Embrace: Fond of the Fair, he falds her in her Arms; 50 She blushes secret, conscious of her Charms. Rejoice, brave Youth, In sic a Fouth Of Joys the Gods for thee provide; The rosy Dawn, 55 The flow’ry Lawn, That Spring has dress’d in a’ its Pride, Claim nae Regard When they’re compar’d With blooming Beauties of thy Bride. 60 MINERVA. Fairest of a’ the Goddesses, and thou That links the Lovers to be ever true, The Gods and Mortals awn your mighty Power, But ’tis not you can make their Sweets secure: That be my Task, to make a Friendship rise, Shall raise their Loves aboon the vulgar Size. Those near related to the brutal Kind, Ken nathing of the Wedlock of the Mind; ’Tis I can make a Life a hinny Moon, And mould a Love shall last like that aboon. A’ these sma’ Springs, whence cauld Reserve and Spleen Take their first Rise, and favour’d flow mair keen, I shall discover in a proper View, To keep their Joys unmix’d, and ever new. Nor Jealousy, not envious Mouth, Shall dare to blast their Love; But Widsom, Constancy and Truth, Shall ev’ry Bliss improve. GENIUS. Thrice happy Chief, sae much the Care 300

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The Nuptials Of a’ the Family of Jove, 80 A thousand Blessings wait the Fair, Who is found worthy of his Love. Lang may the fair Attractions of her Mind Make Her still lovelier, Him for ever kind. MINERVA. The Ancestors of mightiest Chiefs and Kings, Nae higher can derive that humane Springs; Yet frae the common Soil each wondrous Root, Aloft to Heaven their spreading Branches shoot: Bauld in my Aid, these triumph’d over Fate, Fam’d for unbounded Thought or stern Debate, Born high upon an undertaking Mind, Superior raise, and left the Crowd behind. GENIUS. Frae these descending, laurel’d with Renown, My Charge throw Ages draws his Lineage down. The Paths of sic Forbeers lang may He trace, And She be Mother to as fam’d a Race. When blew Diseases fill the drumly Air, And red het Bowts throw Flaughts of Lightning rair, Or madning Faction shakes the sanguine Sword, With watchfu’ Eye I’ll tent my darling Lord, And his lov’d Mate, — tho’ Furies shou’d break loose, Awake or sleeping, shall enjoy Repose.

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I. GRACE. While Gods keep Haly-day, and Mortals smile, Let Nature with Delights adorn the Isle: Be hush, bauld North, Favonius only blaw, 105 And cease, bleak Clouds, to shed or Weet or Snaw; Shine bright, thou radiant Ruler of the Year, And gar the Spring with earlier Pride appear. II. GRACE. Thy Month, great Queen of Goddesses, make gay, Which gains new Honours frae this Marriage Day. On Glotta’s Banks, ye healthfu’ Hynds, resort, And with the Landart Lasses blythly sport.

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III. GRACE. Wear your best Faces and your Sunday’s Weeds, And rouse the Dance with your maist tunefu’ Reeds; Let tunefu’ Voices join the rural Sound, 115 And wake responsive Echo all around.

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Poems I. GRACE. Sing your great Master, Scotia’s eldest Son, And the lov’d Angel that his Heart has won; Come, Sisters, let’s frae Arts hale Stores collect Whatever can her native Beauties deck, That in the Day she may eclipse the Light, And ding the Constellations of the Night. VENUS. Cease, busy Maids, your artfu’ Buskings raise, But small Addition to her genuine Rays; Tho’ ilka Plain and ilka Sea combine To make her with their richest Product shine, Her Lip, her Bosom, and her sparkling Een, Excel the Ruby, Pearl, and Diamond sheen: These lesser Ornaments, illustrious Bride, As Bars to safter Blessings, fling aside, Steal frae them sweetly to your Nuptial Bed, As frae its Body slides the sainted Shade; Frae loath’d Restraint to Liberty above, Where all is Harmony, and all is Love: Haste to these Blessings, — kiss the Night away, And make it ten times pleasanter than Day. HYMEN. The Whisper and Caress shall shorten Hours, While kindly as the Beams on dewy Flowers; Thy Sun, like him who the fresh Bevrage sips, Shall feast upon the Sweetness of thy Lips: My haly Hand maun chastly now unloose That Zone which a’ thy Virgin Charms enclose: That Zone shou’d be less gratefu’ to the Fair Than easy Bands of safter Wedlock are. That lang unbuckled grows a hatefu’ thing, The langer These are bound, they mair of Honour bring.

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MINERVA. Yes, happy Pair, what e’er the Gods inspire, Pursue, and gratify each just Desire: Enjoy your Passions, with full Transports mixt; But still observe the Bounds by Vertue fixt.

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Enter BACCHUS. What brings Minerva here this rantin Night? She’s good for nathing but to preach of fight: Is this a Time for either! — Swith away, Or learn like us to be a thought more gay. MINERVA. Peace, Theban Roarer, while the milder Powers

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The Nuptials Give Entertainment, there’s nae need of yours; The pure Reflection of our calmer Joys Has mair of Heaven than a’ thy flashy Noise. BACCHUS. Ye canna want it, Faith! You that appear Anes at a Bridal but in a twenty Year: A Ferly ’tis your Dortiship to see; But where was e’er a Wedding without me? Blew Een, remember, I’m baith Hap and Saul To Venus there, but me she’d starve o’ Caul. VENUS. We awn the Truth, — Minerva, cease to check Our jolly Brother with your Disrespect; He’s never absent as the Treats of Jove, And shou’d be present at this Feast of Love. GENIUS. Maist welcome Power, that chears the vital Streams, When Pallas guards thee frae thy wild Extremes; Thy rosy Visage at these solemn Rites, My generous Charge with open Smiling greets.

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BACCHUS. I’m nae great Dab at Speeches that maun clink, But there’s my Paw I shall fou tightly drink A hearty Health to thir same lovely Twa, 175 That are sae meikle dauted by you a’; Then with my Juice a reeming Bicquor crown, I’ll gi’e the Toast, and see it fairly round. Enter Ganymed, with a Flagon in one Hand, and a Glass in the other, — speaks.

To you, blyth Beings, the benign Director Of Gods and men, — to keep your Sauls in tift, — Has sent you here a Present of his Nectar, As good as e’er was browen aboon the Lift. BACCHUS. Ha, Gany! Come, my dainty Boy, Skink’t up, and let us prive; Without it Life wad be a Toy: Here, gi’e me’t in my Nive. [Takes the Glass.] Good Health to Hamilton, and his Lov’d Mate: — O Father Jove, we crave Thou’lt grant them a lang Tack of Bliss, And Rowth of bonny Bairns and brave. Pour on them, frae thy endless Store, A’ Bennisons that are divine, 303

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Poems With as good Will as I waught o’er This flowing Glass of heav’nly Wine.

[Drinks, and causes all the Company to drink round.]

Come, see’t about, and syne let’s all advance, Mortals and Gods be Pairs, and tak a Dance; Minerva mim, for a’ your Morals stoor, Ye shall with Billy Bacchus fit the Floor; Play up there, Lassie, some blyth Scottish Tune, Syne a’ be blyth, when Wine and Wit gae round.

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The Health about, Musick and Dancing begin. — The Dancing over before her Grace retires with the Ladies to be undress’d; Calliope sings the



EPITHALAMIUM. Bright is the Low of lawfu’ Love, Which shining Sauls impart; It to Perfection mounts above, And glows about the Heart. It is the Flame gives lasting Worth, 205 To Greatness, Beauty, Wealth and Birth, — On You, illustrious youthfu’ Pair, Who are high Heavens Delight and Care; The blessfu’ Beam darts warm and fair, And shall improve the rest 210 Of a’ these Gifts baith great and rare, Of which ye are possest.

BACCHUS, bear off your dinsome Gang, Hark, frae yon Howms the rural Thrang Invite you now away; 215 While ilka Hynd, And Maiden kind, Dance in a Ring, While Shepherds sing In Honour of the Day; 220 Gae drink and dance Till Morn advance, And set the twinkling Fires, While we prepare To lead the Fair 225 And Brave to their Desires. Gae, Loves and Graces, take your Place, Around the Nuptial Bed abide; Fair Venus heighten each Embrace, And smoothly make their Minutes slide. 230 Gae, Hymen, put the Couch in Case, 304

The Nuptials Minerva thither lead the Bride; Neist, all attend this youthfu’ Grace, And lay him sweetly by her Side.

O D E

On the Marriage of the Right Honourable George Lord Ramsay and Lady Jean Maule. Hail to the brave apparent Chief, Boast of the RAMSAYS Clanish Name, Whose Ancestors stood the Relief Of SCOTLAND, Ages known to Fame. Hail to the lovely She, whose Charms, 5 Complete in Graces, meets His Love; Adorn’d with all that Greatness warms, And makes Him grateful bow to Jove. Both from a Line of Patriots rise, Chiefs of DALHOUSIE and PANMURE, 10 Whose loyal Fames shall Stains despise, While Ocean flows and Orbs endure. The RAMSAYS! Caledonia’s Prop; The MAULES! struck still her Foes with Dread: Now joyn’d; we, from the Union, hope 15 A Race of Heroes shall succeed. Let meaner Souls transgress the Rules That’s fix’d by Honour, Love and Truth, While little Views proclaim them Fools, Unworthy Beauty, Sense and Youth. 20 Whil’st You, blest Pair, belov’d by all The Powers above, and Best below, Shall have Delights attend Your Call, And lasting Pleasures on You flow. What Fate has fix’d, and Love has done, 25 The Guardians of Mankind approve: Well may they finish what’s begun, And from Your Joys all Cares remove. We wish’d — When straight a heavenly Voice Inspir’d, — we heard the Blew-ey’d Maid 30 Cry, Who dare quarrel with the Choice? The Choice is mine, be mine their Aid. 305

Poems Be thine their Aid, O wisest Power, And soon again we hope to see Their Plains return, splendid their Tower, 35 And blossom broad the Edge-well-Tree. Whilst He with manly Merits stor’d, Shall rise the Glory of His Clan; She for Celestial Sweets ador’d, Shall ever charm the gracefu’ Man. 40 Soon may their †10Royal Bird extend His sable Plume, and Lordships claim, Which to His valiant Sires pertain’d, E’er Earls in Albion were a Name. Ye Parents of the happy Pair, 45 With gen’rous Smiles consenting, own That they deserve Your kindest Care: Thus with the Gods their Pleasure crown. Haste, ev’ry Grace, each Love and Smile, From fragrant Cyprus spread the Wing; 50 To deck their Couch, exhaust your Isle Of all the Beauties of the Spring. On them attend with Homage due. In Him are Mars and Phœbus seen; And in the Noble Nymph you’ll view 55 The Sage Minerva, and your Queen.

O D E

On the Birth of the Most Honourable

Marquis of Dumlanrig.

Help me, some God, with sic a Muse As Pope and Granvile aft employ, That I may flowing Numbers chuse, To hail the welcome Princely Boy. But, bred up far frae shining Courts, 5 In Moorland Glens, where nought I see, But now and then some Landart Lass, What Sounds polite can flow frae me? Yet my blyth Lass, amang the lave, With honest Heart her Homage pays;

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† The Spread Eagle Sable, on a Field Argent, is the Arms of the Earl of Dalhousie.

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Ode on the Birth of the M. of Dumlanrig Tho’ no sae nice she can behave, Yet always as she thinks she says. Arise, ye Nymphs, on Nytha’s Plains, And gar the Craigs and Mountains ring; Rouse up the Sauls of a’ the Swains, 15 While you the lovely Infant sing. Keep Haly-day on ilka Howm, With Gowan Garlands gird your Brows; Out o’er the Dales in Dances roam, And shout around the jovial News. 20 By the good Bennison of Heaven, To free you frae the future Fright Of foreign Lords, a Babe is given, To guard your Int’rest and your Right. With Pleasure view your Prince, who late 25 Up to the state of Manhood run, Now, to complete his happy Fate, Sees his ain Image in a Son. A Son, for whom be this your Pray’r, Ilk Morning soon as Dawn appears, 30 GOD grant him an unmeasur’d Skair Of a’ that grac’d his great Forbeers: That his Great Sire may live to see, Frae his delightfu’ Infant spring, A wise and stalwart Progeny, 35 To sence their Country and their King. Still bless her Grace frae whom he sprung, With blythsome Heal her Strength renew, That throw lang Life she may be young, And bring forth Cautioners enow.

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Watch well, ye Tenants of the Air, Wha hover round our Heads unseen; Let dear DUMLANRIG be your Care, Or when he lifts or steeks his Een. Ye hardly Heroes, whase brave Pains 45 Defeated ay th’ invading Rout, Forsake a wee th’ Elisian Plains, View, smile and bless your lovely Sprout. Ye Fair, wha’ve kend the Joys of Love, And glow with chearfu’ Heal and Youth, 50 307

Poems Sic as of auld might nurse a Jove, Or lay the Breast t’ Alcide’s Mouth; The best and bonniest of ye a’ Take the sweet Babie in your Arms; May he nought frae your Bosoms draw, 55 But Nectar to nurse up his Charms. Harmoniously the Notes express, When singing you his Dumps debar, That Discord never may impress Upon his blooming Mind a Jar. 60 Sound a’ the Poet in his Ears, E’en while he’s hanging at the Breast: Thus moulded, when he comes to Years, With an exalted Gust he’ll feast On Lays immortal, which forbid 65 The Death of DOUGLAS’ doughty Name, Or in Oblivion let ly hid The HYDES their Beauty and their Fame.

E P I S T L E

To Mr. JOHN GAY, Author of the Shepherd’s Week, on hearing her Grace Dutchess of Queensberry commend some of his Poems. Dear Lad, wha linkan o’er the Lee, Sang Blowzalind and Bowzybee, And, like the Lavrock, merrily Wak’d up the Morn, When thou didst tune, with heartsome Glee, 5 Thy Bog-reed-horn. To thee, frae Edge of Pentland Height, Where Fawns and Fairies take Delight, And revel a’ the live lang Night, O’er Glens and Braes, 10 A Bard that has the second Sight Thy Fortune spaes. Now, lend thy Lug, and tent me, GAY, Thy Fate appears like Flow’rs in May, 308

Epistle to Mr. Gay Fresh flowrishing, and lasting ay, 15 Firm as the Aik, Which envious Winds, when Criticks bray, Shall never shake. Come, shaw your Loof. — Ay, there’s the Line Fortells thy Verse shall ever shine, 20 Dawted whilst living by the Nine, And a’ the Best, And be, when past the mortal Line, Of Fame possest. Immortal Pope, and skilfu’ *11John 25 The learned Leach frae Callidon, With mony a witty Dame and Don, O’er lang to name, Are of your Roundels very fon, And sound your Fame. 30 And sae do I, wha roose but few, Which nae sma’ Favour is to you: For to my Friends I stand right true, With Shanks a spar; And my good Word (ne’er gi’en but due) 35 Gangs unko far. Here mettled Men my Muse mantain, And ilka Beauty is my Friend; Which keeps me canty, brisk and bein, Ilk wheeling Hour, 40 And a sworn Fae to hatefu’ Spleen, And a’ that’s sour. But bide ye Boy, the main’s to say, Clarinda bright as rising Day, Divinely Bonny, Great and Gay, 45 Of thinking even, Whase Words and Looks, and Smiles display Full Views of Heaven. To rumage Nature for what’s braw, Like Lillies, Roses, Gems and Snaw; 50 Compar’d with her’s, their Lustre fa’, And bauchly tell Her Beauties: She excels them a’, And’s like her sell. As fair as Form as e’er was blest, 55 * Dr. Arbuthnot.

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Poems To have an Angel for a Guest; Happy the Prince who is possest Of sic a Prize, Whose Vertues place her with the best Beneath the Skies. 60 O sonsy GAY! this heavenly born, Whom ev’ry Grace strives to adorn, Looks not upon thy Lays with Scorn; Then bend thy Knees, And bless the Day that ye was born 65 With Arts to please. She says, Thy Sonnet smoothly sings, Sae ye may craw and clap your Wings, And smile at Ether-capite Stings With careless Pride, 70 When sae much Wit and Beauty brings Strength to your Side. Lilt up your Pipes, and rise aboon Your Trivia and your Moorland Tune, And sing Clarinda late and soon, 75 In touring Strains, Till gratefu’ Gods cry out, Well done, And praise thy Pains. Exalt thy Voice, that all around, May echo back the lovely Sound, 80 Frae Dover Cliffs, with Samphire crown’d, To Thule’s Shore, Where Northward no more Britains found But Seas that rore. Thus sing, — whil’st I frae Arthur’s Height, 85 O’er Chiviot glowr with tyr’d Sight, And langing wish, like raving Wight, To be set down, Frae Coach and sax, baith trim and right, In London Town. 90 But lang I’ll gove and bleer my Ee, Before, alake! that Sight I see; Then, best Relief, I’ll strive to be Quiet and content, And streek my Limbs down easylie. 95 Upon the Bent. There sing the Gowans, Broom and Trees, The Crystal Burn and Westlin Breez, 310

Epistle to Mr. Gay The bleeting Flocks, and bisy Bees, And blythsome Swains, 100 Wha rant and dance, with kiltit Dees, O’er Mossy Plains. Farewell; — but, e’er we part, let’s pray, GOD save Clarinda Night and Day, And grant her a’ she’d wish to ha’e, 105 Withoutten End! – Nae mair at present I’ve to say, But am your Friend.

ODE

To the Right Honourable

Grace Countess of Aboyn, On her Marriage Day.

In Martial Fields the Heroe toils, And wades throw Blood to purchase Fame; O’er dreadful Waves, from distant Soils, The Merchant brings his Treasures hame. But Fame and Wealth no Joys bestow, 5 If plac’d alane they Cyphers stand; Tis to the Figure Love they owe The real Joys that they command. Blest He who Love and Beauty gains, Gains what contesting Kings might claim, 10 Might bring brave Armies to the Plains, And loudly swell the Blast of Fame. How happy then is young ABOYN! Of how much Heaven is he possest! How much the Care of Pow’rs divine, 15 Who lyes in lovely LOCKHART’s Breast! Gazing in Raptures on thy Charms, Thy sparkling Beauty, Shape and Youth, He grasps all Softness in his Arms, And sips the Nectar from thy Mouth.

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If sympathetick Likeness crave Indulgent Parents to be kind, Each Pow’r shall guard the Charm they gave, Venus thy Face, Pallas thy Mind. O Muse, we could, — but stay thy Flight; 311

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Poems The Field is sacred as ’tis sweet; Who dares to paint the ardent Night, When ravish’d Youth and Beauty meet? Here we must draw a Veil between, And shade those Joys too dazling clear, 30 By ev’ry Eye not to be seen, Not to be heard by ev’ry Ear. Still in her Smiles, ye Cupids, play; Still in her Eyes your Revels keep; Her Pleasure be your Care by Day, 35 And whisper Sweetness in her Sleep. Be banish’d, each ill natur’d Care, Base Offspring of fantastick Spleen; Of Access here you must despair, Her Breast for you is too serene.

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May Guardian Angels hover round Thy Head, and ward aff all Annoy; Be all thy Days with Raptures crown’d, And all thy Nights be blest with Joy.

E P I G R A M. Minerva wandring in a Myrtle Grove, Accosted thus the smiling Queen of Love, Revenge your self, you’ve Cause to be afraid, Your boasted Pow’r yields to a British Maid: She seems a Goddess, all her Graces shine; 5 Love leads her Beauty, which eclipses thine. Each Youth, I know (says Venus) thinks she’s me; Immediately she speaks, they think she’s thee: Good Pallas, thus you’re foil’d as well as I. Ha, ha! (crys Cupid) that’s my MALY SLEIGH. 10

On the Marriage of Alexander Brodie of Brodie, Lord Lyon King of Arms, and Mrs. Mary Sleigh. When Time was young, and Innocence, With tender Love govern’d this Round, No mean Design to give Offence To Constancy and Truth was found; All free from Fraud, upon the flow’ry Sward, 5 Lovers carest with fond and chast Regard. 312

On the Marriage of the Lord Lyon King of Arms From easy Labours of the Day Each Pair to Leafy Bowers retir’d; Contentment kept them ever gay, While kind connubial Sweets conspir’d, 10 With smiling Quiet and balmy Health throu’ Life, To make the happy Husband and the Wife. Our modern Wits in Wisdom less, With Spirits weak, and wavering Minds, Void of Resolve, poorly confess 15 They cannot relish aught that binds. Let Libertines of Taste sae wond’rous nice, Despise to be confin’d in Paradise. While BRODIE with his beauteous SLEIGH, On purest Love can safely feast, 20 Quaff Raptures from her sparkling Eye, And judge of Heaven within her Breast: No dubious Cloud to gloom upon his Joy, Possessing of what’s Good can never cloy. Her Beauty might for ever warm, 25 Altho’ her Soul were less divine, The Brightness of her Mind could charm, Did less her graceful Beauties shine: But both united, with full Force inspire The warmest Wish, and the most lasting Fire. 30 In your accomplish’d Mate, young Thane, Without Reserve ye may rejoice; The Heavens your Happiness sustain, And all that think, admire your Choice. Around your Treasure circling Arms entwine, 35 Be all thy Pleasure her’s, and her’s be thine. Rejoice, dear MARY, in thy Youth, The first of his brave ancient Clan, Whose Soul delights in Love and Truth, And view’d in every Light a Man 40 To whom the Fates with liberal Hand have given Good Sense, true Honour, and a Temper even. When Love and Reason thus unite An equal Pair in sacred Ties, They gain the humane Bliss complete, 45 And Approbation from the Skies. Since You approve, kind Heaven, upon them pour The best of Blessings to their latest Hour.

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Poems To you who rule above the Sun, To you who fly in fluid Air, We leave to finish what’s begun, Still to reward and watch the Pair. Thus far the Muse, who did an Answer wait, And heard the Gods name Happiness their Fate.

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To Josiah Burchet Esq; On his being chosen Member of Parliament. MY BURCHET’s Name! well pleas’d, I saw Amang the chosen Leet, Wha are to give Britannia Law, And keep her Rights complete. O may the rest wha fill the House 5 Be of a Mind with thee, And British Liberty espouse; We glorious Days may see. The Name of Patriot is mair great Than Heaps of ill win Gear: 10 What boots an opulent Estate, Without a Conscience clear? While sneaking Sauls for Cash wad troke Their Country, GOD and King, With Pleasure we the Villain mock, 15 And hate the worthless thing. With a’ your Pith, the like of you, Superior to what’s mean, Shou’d gar the truckling Rogues look blew, And cow them laigh and clean. 20 Down with them, — down with a’ that dare Oppose the Nation’s Right; Sae may your Fame like a fair Star Throu’ future Times shine bright. Sae may kind Heaven propitious prove, And grant what e’er ye crave; And him a Corner in your Love, Wha is your humble Slave.

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The General Mistake

The General Mistake:

A Satyre.

Inscrib’d to the Right Honourable Lord Erskine. The finish’d Mind in all its Movements bright, Surveys the self-made Sumph in proper Light, Allows for native Weakness, but disdains Him who the Character with Labour gains: Permit me then, my Lord (since you arise 5 With a clear Saul aboon the common Size) To place the following Sketches in your View; The Warld will like me, if I’m roos’d by You. Is there a Fool, frae Senator to Swain? Take ilk ane’s Verdict for himsell, — there’s nane. 10 A thousand other Wants make thousands fret, But nane for want of Wisdom quarrels Fate. Alas! how gen’ral prove the great Mistake, When others throu’ their Neighbours Failings rake? Detraction then, by Spite, is born too far, 15 And represents Men warse than what they are. Come then, Impartial Satyre, fill the Stage With Fools of ilka Station, Sex and Age; Point out the Folly, hide the Person’s Name, Since Obduration follows publick Shame: 20 Silent Conviction calmly can reform, While open Scandal rages to a Storm. Proceed, but in the List, poor things forbear, Who only in the humane Form appear, Scarce animated with that heavenly Fire 25 Which makes the Soul with boundless Thoughts aspire; Such move our Pity, — Nature is to blame — ’Tis Fools, in some things wise, that Satyre claim: Such as Nugator, mark his solemn Mien, Stay’d are his Features, scarcely move his Een, 30 Which deep beneath his knoted Eye-brows sink, And he appears as ane wad guess to think; Even sae he does, and can exactly shaw How mony Beans make five, take three awa! Deep read in Latin Folio’s, four Inch thick, 35 He probs your crabit points into the quick; Delights in dubious things to give Advice, Admires your Judgement, if you think him wise: And stifly stands by what he anes thought right, Altho’ oppos’d with Reason’s clearest Light. 40 On him ilk Argument is thrown away, Speak what ye will, he tents not what you say: He hears himsell, and currently runs o’er 315

Poems All on the Subject he has said before; ’Till glad to ease his Jaws and tired Tongue, Th’ Opponent rests, — Nugator thinks him dung. Thou solemn Trifler, — ken thou art despis’d, Thy stiff Pretence to Wisdom, nathing priz’d By sic as can their Notions fause decline, When truth darts on them with convicting shine. How hateful’s dull Opinion! prop’d with Words, That nought to any ane of Sense affords, But tiresome Jargon. — Learn to laugh, at least, That Part of what thou says may pass for Jest.

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Now turn your Eye to smooth Chicander next, 55 In whom good Sense seems with good Humour mixt; But only seems: — For Envy, Malice, Guile, And sic base Vices, crowd behind his Smile. Nor can his Thoughts beyond mean Quirks extend, He thinks a Trick nae Crime that gains his End: 60 A Crime! No, ’tis his Brag; he names it Wit, And triumphs o’er a better Man he ’as bit. Think shame Chicander of your creeping Slights, True Wisdom in Sincerity delights; The sumphish Mob of Penetration shawl, 65 May gape and ferly at your cunning Saul, And make ye fancy that there is Desert In thus employing a’ your sneaking Art. But do not think that Men of clearer Sense Will e’er admit of sic a vile Pretence, 70 To that which dignifies the humane Mind, And acts in Honour with the bright and blind. Reverse of this fause Face, observe yon Youth, A strict plain Dealer, aft o’er stretching Truth; Severely sowr, he’s ready to reprove 75 The least wrang Step in those who have his Love: Yet what’s of Worth in them he over-rates; But much they’re to be pitied whom he hates. Here his Mistake, his weakest Side appears, When he a Character in Pieces tears; 80 He gives nae Quarter, nor to great or sma’, Even Beauty guards in vain; he lays at a’. This Humour, aften flowring o’er due Bounds, Too deeply mony a Reputation wounds; For which he’s hated by the suffering Crowd, 85 Who jointly ’gree to rail at him aloud, And as much shun his Sight and bitter Tongue, As they wad do a Wasp that had them stung. Censorious learn sometimes at Faults to wink, The wisest ever speak less than they think; 90 Tho’ thus superior Judgement you may vaunt, 316

The General Mistake Yet this proud Worm-wood show o’t, speaks at Want: A Want in which your Folly will be seen, Till you increase in Wit, and have less Spleen. Make Way there, — when a mortal God appears! Why do ye laugh? King Midas wore sic Ears — How wise he looks? Well, wad he never speak, People wad think him neither dull nor weak: But ah! he fancies, ’cause he’s chosen a Tool, That a furr’d Gown can free him frae the Fool; Straight he, with paughty Mien, and lordly Glooms, A vile affected Air, not his, assumes; Stawks stifly by, when better Men salute, Discovering less of Senator than Brute. Yet, is there e’er a wiser Man than he? Speer at himsell; and, if he will be free, He’ll tell you, Nane. — Will Judges tell a Lie?

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But let him pass, and with a Smile observe Yon tatter’d Shadow, amaist like to starve; And yet he strutes, proud of his vast Ingine, 110 He is an Author, writes exquisite fine: Sae fine, in Faith! that every vulgar Head Cannot conceive his Meaning while they read. He hates the World for this; — with bitter Rage He damns the stupid Dulness of the Age. 115 The Printer is unpaid. — Booksellers swear, Ten Copies will not sell in ten lang Year: And wad not that sair fret a learned Mind, To see those shou’d be Patrons prove sae blind, Not to approve of what cost meikle Pains, 120 Neglect of Bus’ness, Sleep, and waste of Brains? And a’ for nought, but to be vilely us’d, As Pages are whilk Buyers have refus’d. Ah! Fellow Lab’rers for the Press, take heed, And force nae Fame that Way, if ye wad speed: 125 Mankind must be (we have nae other) Judge, And if they are displeas’d, why should we grudge? If happily you gain them to your Side, Then bauldly mount your Pegasus, and ride: Value your sell only what they desire; 130 What does not take, commit it to the Fire. Next him a Penman with a bluffer Air, Stands ’tween this twa best Friends that lull his Care, Nam’d Money in baith Pouches — with three Lines Yclipt a Bill, he digs the Indian Mines, 135 Jobs, changes, lends, extorses, cheats and grips, And no ae Turn of gainfu’ Us’ry slips, Till he has won, by wise Pretence and snell, 317

Poems As meikle as may drive his Bairns to Hell, His ain lang Hame. — This Sucker thinks nane wise, But him who can to immense Riches rise: Lear, Honour, Vertue, and sic heavenly Beams, To him appear but idle airy Dreams Nor fit for Men of Business to mind, That are for great and golden Ends design’d. Send for him, Deel! — till then, good Men, take care To keep at Distance frae his Hook and Snare; He has nae Rewth, if Coin comes in the play, He’ll draw, indorse, and horn to Death his Prey.

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Not thus Macsomno pushes after Praise, 150 He treats, and is admir’d in all he says; Cash well bestow’d, which helps a Man to pass For wise in his ain thinking, that’s an Ass: Poor Skybalds, curs’d with less of Wealth than Wit, Blyth of a gratis Gaudeamus, sit 155 With Look attentive, ready all about, To give the Laugh when his dull Joke comes out; Accustom’d with his Conversation bright, They ken as by a Watch the time of Night, When he’s at sic a Point of sic a Tale, 160 Which to these Parasites grows never stale, Tho’ often tald. — Like Lethe’s Stream, his Wine Makes them forget! — that he again may shine. “Fy! Satyre hald thy Tongue, thou art too rude “To jeer a Character that seems sae good: 165 “This Man may beet the Poet bare and clung, “That rarely has a Shilling in his Spung.” Hang him! — there’s Patrons of good Sense enew To cherish and support the tuneful few, Whose Penetration’s never at a Loss 170 In right distinguishing of Gold frae Dross: Employ me freely, if thou’d Laurels wear, Experience may teach thee not to fear. But see anither gives mair Cause for Dread, He thraws his Gab, and aft he shakes his Head; 175 A Slave to Self-conceit, and a’ that’s sowr, T’ acknowledge Merit, is not in his Power: He reads, — but ne’er the Author’s Beauties minds, And has nae Pleasure where nae Faults he finds. Much hated Gowk, tho’ vers’d in kittle Rules, 180 To be a Wirry-kow to writing Fools, Thy sell the greatest, only learn’d in Words, Which naithing but the cauld and dry affords. Dar’st thou of a’ thy Betters slighting speak, That have na grutten sae meikle learning Greek: 185 Thy Depths well kend, and a’ thy silly Vaunts, 318

The General Mistake To ilka solid Thinker shaw thy Wants. Thus Cowards deave us with a thousand Lies Of dangerous Vict’ries they have won in Pleas. Sae shallow Upstarts strive with Care to hide 190 Their mean Descent (which inly gaws their Pride) By counting Kin, and making endless Faird, If that their Grany’s Uncle’s Oye’s a Laird. Scar-crows, Hen-hearted, and ye meanly born, Appear just what ye are, and dread nae Scorn; 195 Labour in Words, — keep hale your Skins: Why not? Do well, and nane your laigh Extract will quote, But to your Praise. — Walk aff, till we remark Yon little coxy Wight, that makes sic Wark With Tongue and Gate: How crously does he stand? 200 His Taes turn’d out, on his left Haunch his Hand; The right beats Time a hundred various Ways, And points the Pathos out in a’ he says. Wow! but he’s proud! When almaist out of Breath, At ony time he clatters a Man to Death, 205 Wha is oblig’d sometime t’ attend the Sot, To save the captiv’d Buttons of his Coat. Thou dinsome Jack-daw, ken ’tis a Disease This Palsy in thy Tongue that ne’er can please; Of a’ Mankind, thou art the maist mistane 210 To think this Way of the Name of Sage to gain. Now, lest I shou’d be thought too much like thee, I’ll give my Readers leave to breathe a wee; If they allow my Pictur’s like the Life, Mae shall be drawn; Originals are rife.

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The Phœnix and the Owl. Phoenix the first, th’ Arabian Lord, And Chief of all the feather’d Kind, A Hundred Ages had ador’d The Sun, with Sanctity of Mind. Yet, mortal, he maun yield to Fate, 5 He heard the Summons with a Smile, And unalarm’d, without Regret, He form’d himsell a Fun’ral Pile. A Howlet, Bird of mean Degree, Poor, dosen’d, lame, and doited auld, 10 Lay lurking in a neighb’ring Tree, Cursing the Sun loot him be cauld. 319

Poems Said Phœnix, Brother, why so griev’d, To ban the Being gives thee Breath? Learn to die better than thou’st liv’d; 15 Believe me, there’s nae Ill in Death. Believe ye that? the Owl reply’d; Preach as ye will, Death is an Ill: When young I ilka Pleasure try’d, But now I die against my Will. 20 For you, a Species by your sell, Near Eeldins with the Sun your God, Nae Ferly ’tis to hear you tell, Ye’re tired, and incline to nod. It shou’d be sae; for had I been 25 As lang upon the Warld as ye, Nae Tears shou’d e’er drap frae my Een, For Tinsel of my hollow Tree. And what, return’d the Arabian Sage, Have ye t’ observe ye have not seen? 30 Ae Day’s the Picture of an Age, ’Tis ay the same thing o’er again. Come, let us baith togither die: Bow to the Sun that gave thee Life; Repent thou frae his Beams did flee, 35 And end thy Poortith, Pain and Strife. Thou wha in Darkness took Delight, Frae Twangs of Guilt could’st ne’er be free: What won thou by thy shunning Light? — But Time flees on; — I haste to die.

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Ye’r Servant, Sir, reply’d the Owl, I likena in the Dark to lowp: The Byword ca’s that Cheil a Fool, That slips a Certainty for Hope. Then straight the zealous feather’d King 45 To ’s Aromatick Nest retir’d, Collected Sun-beams with his Wing, And in a spicy Flame expir’d. Mean time there blew a Westlin Gale, Which to the Howlet bore a Coal; 50 The Saint departed on his Pile, But the Blasphemer in his Hole. He died for ever, — fair and bright; 320

The Phœnix and the Owl The Phœnix frae his Ashes sprang. Thus wicked Men sink down to Night, While just Men join the glorious Thrang.

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To the Honourable Sir John Clerk of Pennycuik Baronet, one of the Barons of Exchequer, on the Death of his most accomplished Son John Clerk Esq; who died the 20th Year of his Age. If Tears can ever be a Duty found, ’Tis when the Deaths of dear Relations wound; Then you must weep, you have too just a Ground. A Son whom all the Good and Wise admir’d, Shining with ev’ry Grace to be desir’d; 5 Rais’d high your joyful Hopes, and then retir’d. Nature must yield, when such a weighty Load Rouzes the Passions, and makes Reason nod: But who may contradict the Will of GOD! By his Great Author, Man was sent below, 10 Some Things to learn, great Pains to undergo, To fit him for what further he’s to know. This End obtain’d, without regarding Time, He calls the Soul home to its native Clime, To Happiness and Knowledge more sublime.

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Thus some in Youth like Eagles mount the Steep, Which leads to Man, and fathom Learning’s Deep; Others thro’ Age with reptile Motion creep. Like lazy Streams which fill the Fenny Strand, In muddy Pools they long unactive stand, 20 Till spent in Vapour, or immers’d in Sand. But down its flinty Channel, without Stain, The Mountain Rill flows eagerly to gain, With a full Tide, its Origine the Main. Thus your lov’d Youth, whose bright aspiring Mind Could not to lazy Minutes be confin’d, Sail’d down the Stream of Life before the Wind. Perform’d the Task of Man, so well, so soon, He reach’d the Sea of Bliss before his Noon, And to his Memory lasting Laurels won. 321

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Poems When Life’s tempestuous Billows ceas’d to rore, And e’er his broken Vessel was no more, His Soul serenely view’d the heavenly Shore. Bravely resign’d, obeying Fate’s Command, He fix’d his Eyes on the immortal Land, 35 Where crowding Seraphs reach’d him out the Hand. SOUTHESKA’s smiling Cherub * first appear’d, 12 With GARLIES’ Consort †, who vast Pleasures shar’d, 13 Conducting him where Vertue finds Reward. Think in the World of Sp’rits, with how much Joy 40 His tender Mother would receive her Boy, Where Fate no more their Union can destroy. His good Grandsire, who lately went to Rest, How fondly would he grasp him to his Breast, And welcome him to Regions of the Blest!

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From us, ’tis true, his youthful Sweets are gone, Which may plead for our Weakness, when we moan; The Loss indeed is ours, he can have none. Thus Sailors with a crazy Vessel crost, Expecting every Minute to be lost, 50 With weeping Eyes behold a Sunny Coast. Where happy Land-men safely breathe the Air, Bask in the Sun, or to cool Shades repair, They longing sigh, and wish themselves were there. But who would after Death to Bliss lay Claim, 55 Must, like your Son, each vicious Passion tame, Fly from the Crowd, and at Perfection aim. Then grieve no more, nor vex your self in vain, To latest Age the Character maintain You now possess, you’ll find your Son again. 60

* James Lord Carnegie. † Lady Garlies. both his near Relations.

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On receiving a Letter to be present, &c.

On receiving a Letter to be present at the Burial of Mr. Robert Alexander of Blackhouse. Thou sable border’d Sheet be gone, Harbour to thee I must refuse; Sure thou canst Welcome find from none, Who carries such ungrateful News. Who can attend thy mournful Tale, 5 And ward his Soul from piercing Woe? In viewing thee, Grief must prevail, And Tears from gushing Eyes o’erflow From Eyes of all that knew the Man, And in his Friendship had a Share; 10 Who all the World’s Affections won, By Vertues that all natural were. His Merits dazle, while we view, His Goodness is a Theme so full, The Muse wants Strength to pay what’s due, 15 While Estimation prompts the Will. But she endeavours to make known To farest down Posterity, That good BLACKHOUSE was such a one As every one should wish to be. 20

The Fair Assembly: A Poem. Awake, Thalia, and defend, With chearfu’ carrolling, Thy bonny Care, — thy Wings extend, And bear me to your Spring; That Harmony full Force may lend To Reasons that I bring: — Now Caledonian Nymphs attend, For ’tis to you I sing. As lang as Minds maun Organs wear, Compos’d of Flesh and Blood, We ought to keep them hale and clear, * With Exercise and Food.14 Then, but Debate, it will appear * The Wise for Health on Exercise depend, God never made his Works for Man to mend. Dryd.

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Poems That Dancing must be good, It stagnant Humours set a steer, 15 And fines the purple Flood. Diseases, Heaviness and Spleen, And ill things mony mae, That gar the Lazy fret and grane, With Visage dull and blae. 20 ’Tis Dancing can do mair alane, Than Drugs frae far away, To ward aff these, make nightly Pain, And sowr the shining Day. Health is a Prize; — yet meikle mair 25 In Dancing we may find; It adds a Lustre to the Fair, And, when the Fates unkind Cloud with a blate and aukward Air A Genius right refin’d, 30 * The sprightly Art helps to repair15 This Blemish on the Mind. How mony do we daily see, ** Right scrimp of Wit and Sense,16 Wha gain their Aims aft easily 35 By well bred Confidence? Then what e’er helps to qualifie A rustick Negligence, Maun without doubt a Duty be, And shou’d give nae Offence. 40 Hell’s Doctrine’s dung, when equal Pairs Together join their Hands, And vow to sooth ilk other’s Cares, In haly Wedlock Bands: Sae when to dance the Maid prepares, 45 And flush’d with Sweetness stands, At her the wounded Lover stares, And yields to Heaven’s Commands. * Since nothing appears to me to give Children so much becoming Confidence and Behaviour, and so raise them to the Conversation of those above their Age, as Dancing; I think they should be taught to dance as soon as they are capable of learning it. For tho’ this consists only in outward Gracefulness of Motion; yet I know not how, it gives manly Thoughts and Carriage more than any thing. Lock. ** It is certain, that for want of a competent Knowledge in this Art of Dancing, which should have been learned when young, the Publick loses many a Man of exquisite Intellectuals and unbyass’d Probity, purely for Want of that so necessary Accomplishment, Assurance; while the pressing Knave or Fool shoulders him out, and gets the Prize. Mr. Weaver.

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The Fair Assembly The first Command * he soon obeys,17 While Love inspires ilk Notion; 50 His wishing Look his Heart displays, While his lov’d Mate’s in Motion: He views her with a blyth Amaze, And drinks with deep Devotion That happy Draught, that throu’ our Days 55 Is own’d a cordial Potion. The Cordial which conserves our Life, And makes it smooth and easy: Then, ilka Wanter, wale a Wife, E’er Eild and Humdrums seize ye, 60 Whase Charms can silence Dumps or Strife, And frae the Rake release ye, Attend th’ Assembly, where there’s Rife Of vertuous Maids to please ye. These modest Maids inspire the Muse, 65 In flowing Strains to shaw Their Beauties, which she likes to roose, And let the Envious blaw: That Task she canna well refuse, Wha sinle says them Na. — 70 To paint Bellinda first we chuse, With Breasts like driven Snaw. Like Lilly-banks see how they rise, With a fair Glen between, Where living Streams, blew as the Skies, Are branching upward seen, To warm her Mouth, where Rapture lyes, And Smiles, that banish Spleen, Wha strikes with Love and saft Surprise, Where e’er she turns her Een.

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SABELLA gracefully complete, Straight as the Mountain Pine, Like Pearl and Rubies set in Jet, Her lovely Features shine: In her the Gay and Solid meet, 85 And blended are sae fine, That when she moves her Lips or Feet, She seems some Power Divine. O Daphne! sweeter than the Dawn, When Rays glance on the Height, Diffusing Gladness o’er the Lawn, * Dixit eis Deus, Fœtificate, augescite & implete terram.

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Poems With Strakes of rising Light. The dewy Flowers when newly blawn, Come short of that Delight, Which thy far fresher Beauties can 95 Afford our joyfu’ Sight. How easy sits sweet Celia’s Dress, Her Gate how gently free; Her Steps, throu’out the Dance, express The justest Harmony: 100 And when she sings, all must confess, Wha’re blest to hear and see, They’d deem’t their greatest Happiness T’ enjoy her Company. And wha can ca’ his Heart his ain, 105 That hears Aminta speak? Against Love’s Arrows, Shields are vain, When he aims frae her Cheek; Her Cheek, where Roses free from Strain, In Glows of Youdith beek: 110 Unmingl’d Sweets her Lips retain; These Lips she ne’er shou’d steek, Unless when fervent Kisses close That Av’new of her Mind, Thro’ which true Wit in Torrents flows, 115 As speaks the Nymph design’d: The Brag and Toast of Wits and Beaus, And Wonder of Mankind; Whase Breast will prove a blest Repose To him with whom she’ll bind. 120 See with what Gayety, yet grave, Serena swims alang; She moves a Goddess ’mang the lave, Distinguish’d in the Thrang. Ye Sourocks, hafflines Fool, haf Knave, 125 Wha hate a Dance or Sang, To see this stately Maid behave, ’Twad gi’e your Hearts a Twang. Your Hearts! said I, trowth I’m to blame, I had amaist forgotten, 130 That ye to nae sic Organ claim; Or if ye do, ’tis rotten. A Saul with sic a throwless Flame, Is sure a silly Sot ane: Ye scandalize the humane Frame, 135 When in our Shape begotten. 326

The Fair Assembly These Lurdanes came just in my Light, As I was tenting Chloe, With jet black Een that sparkle bright, She’s all o’er form’d for Joy; 140 With Neck and Waist, and Limbs as tight As her’s wha drew the Boy, Frae feeding Flocks upon the Height, And fled with him to Troy. Now Myra dances; mark her Mien, 145 Sae disengag’d and gay, Mixt with that Innocence that’s seen In bonny Ew-bught May, Wha wins the Garland on the Green Upon some Bridal-Day; 150 Yet she has Graces for a Queen, And might a Scepter sway. What Lays, Calista, can commend The Beauties of thy Face! Whase Fancy can sae touring stend, 155 Thy Merits a’ to trace! Frae ’boon the Starns, some Bard, descend, And sing her ev’ry Grace, Whase wondrous Worth may recommend Her to a God’s Embrace. 160 A Seraph wad our Aikman paint, Or draw a lively Wit; The Features of a happy Saint, Say, art thou fond to hit? Or a Madona compliment, 165 With Lineaments maist fit? Fair Copies thou need’st never want, If bright Calista sit. MELLA the heaviest Heart can heez, And sowrest Thoughts expell, 170 Her Station grants her Rowth and Ease, Yet is the sprightly Belle As active as the eydent Bees, Wha rear the Waxen Cell; And, place her in what Light you please, 175 She still appears hersell. Beauties on Beauties come in view Sae thick, that I’m afraid I shall not pay to Ilk their Due, Till Phœbus lend mair Aid: 180 But this in gen’ral will had true, 327

Poems And may be safely said, There’s ay a Something shining new In Ilk delicious Maid. Sic as against th’ Assembly speak, 185 The rudest Sauls betray, When Matrons noble, wise and meek, Conduct the healthfu’ Play: Where they appear, nae Vice dare keek, But to what’s good gives way, 190 Like Night, soon as the Morning Creek Has usher’d in the Day. Dear Ed’nburgh, shaw thy Gratitude, And of sic Friends make sure, Wha strive to make our Minds less rude, And help our Wants to cure; Acting a gen’rous Part and good, In Bounty to the Poor: Sic Vertues, if right understood, Shou’d ev’ry Heart alure.

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On the Royal Company of Archers, shooting for the Bowl, July 6th, 1724. On which Day his Grace JAMES Duke of Hamilton was chosen their Captain General; and Mr. David Drummond their Præses won the Prize. Again the Year returns the Day, That’s delicate to Joy and Play, To Bonnets, Bows and Wine. Let all who wear a sullen Face, This Day meet with a due Disgrace, And in their Sowrness pine; Be shun’d as Serpents, that wad stang The Hand that gi’es them Food: Sic we debar frae lasting Sang, And all their grumbling Brood.

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While, to gain Sport and halesome Air, The blythsome Spirit draps dull Care, And starts frae Bus’ness free: Now to the Fields the Archers bend, With friendly Minds the Day to spend, 15 In manly Game and Glee; First striving wha shall win the Bowl, 328

On the Royal Company of Archers And then gar’t flow with Wine: Sic manly Sport refresh’d the Soul Of stalwart Men lang syne. E’er Parties thrawn, and Int’rest vile Debauch’d the Grandeur of our Isle, And made ev’n Brethren Faes: Syne Truth frae Friendship was exil’d, And fause the honest Hearts beguil’d, And led them in a Maze Of Politicks; — with cunning Craft, The Issachars of State, Frae haly Drums first dang us daft, Then drown’d us in Debate.

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Drap this unpleasing Thought, dear Muse; Come, view the Men thou likes to roose; To Bruntsfield Green let’s hy, And see the Royal Bowmen strive, Wha far the feather’d Arrows drive, 35 All soughing thro’ the Sky; Ilk ettling with his utmost Skill, With artfu’ Draught and stark, Extending Nerves with hearty Will, In hopes to his the Mark. 40 See HAMILTON, wha moves with Grace, Chief of the Caledonian Race Of Peers; to whom is due All Honours, and a’ fair Renown; Wha lays aside his Ducal Crown, Sometime to shade his Brow Beneath St. Andrew’s Bonnet blew, And joins to gain the Prize: Which shaws true Merit match’d by few, Great, affable and wise.

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This Day, with universal Voice, The Archers Him their Chiftain chose; Consenting Powers divine, They blest the Day with general Joy, By giving him a princely Boy, 55 To beautify his Line; Whose Birth-day, in immortal Sang Shall stand in fair Record, While bended Strings the Archers twang, And Beauty is ador’d. 60 Next DRUMMOND view, who gives their Law; It glads our Hearts to see him draw 329

Poems The Bow, and guide the Band; He, like the Saul of a’ the lave, Does with sic Honour still behave, 65 As merits to command. Blyth be his Hours, heal be his Heart, And lang may he preside: Lang the just Fame of his Desert Shall unborn Archers read. 70 How on this fair propitious Day, With Conquest leal he bore away The Bowl victoriously; With following Shafts in Number four, Success the like ne’er kend before, The Prize to dignify. Haste to the Garden then bedeen, The rose and Laurel pow, And plet a Wreath of white and green, To busk the Victor’s Brow.

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The Victor crown, who with his Bow, In Spring of Youth and am’rous Glow, Just fifty Years sinsyne, The Silver Arrow made his Prize, Yet ceases not in Fame to rise, 85 And with new Feats to shine. May every Archer strive to fill His Bonnet, and observe The Pattern he has set with Skill, And Praise like him deserve. 90

On the Royal Company of Archers, marching under the Command of his Grace Duke of Hamilton, in their proper Habits, to shoot for the Arrow at Musselburgh, August 4, 1724. Apollo, Patron of the Lyre, And of the valiant Archers Bow, Me with sic Sentiments inspire, As may appear from thee they flow, When, by thy special Will, and high Command. I sing the Merits of the Royal Band. Now like themsells again the Archers raise The Bow, in brave Aray, and claim our Lays. Phœbus well pleas’d, shines from the blew Serene, Glents on the Stream, and guilds the checquer’d Green. The Winds ly hush in their remotest Caves, 330

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On the Royal Company of Archers And Forth with gentle Swell his Margin leaves. See to his Shore, the gathering Thousands roll, As if one gen’ral Sp’rit inform’d the whole. The bonniest Fair of a’ Great Britain’s Isle, From Chariots and the crowded Casements smile; Whilst Horse and Foot promiscuous form a Lane, Extending far along the destin’d Plain, Where, like Bellona’s Troops, or Guards of Love, The Archers in their proper Habits move.

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Their Guardian Saint, from yon ethereal Height, 15 Displays th’ auspicious Cross of blazing Light; While on his Care he chearfully looks down, The pointed Thistle wears his ruby Crown, And seems to threat, arm’d ready to engage, No Man unpunish’d shall provoke my Rage. 20 Well pleas’d the rampant Lyon smooths his Mane, And gambols gay upon his golden Plain. Likeas the Sun, when wintry Clouds are past, And fragrant Gales succeed the stormy Blast, Shines on the Earth, the Fields look fresh and gay; So seem the Archers on this joyful Day: Whilst with his graceful Mien, and Aspect kind, Their Leader raises every Follower’s Mind, Who love the Conduct of a Youth, whose Birth To nothing yields but his superior Worth; And happier is with his selected Train, Than Philip’s Son who strove a World to gain. That Prince whole Nations to Destruction drove, This Prince delights his Country to improve. A Monarch rais’d upon a Throne may nod, And pass amongst the Vulgar for a God; Whilst Men of Penetration justly blame Those who hang on their Ancestors for Fame; But own the Dignity of high Descent, When the Successor’s Spirit keeps the Bent, Which through revolving Ages grac’d the Line, With all those Qualities that brightest shine: The Archers Chiftain thus with active Mind, In all that’s worthy never falls behind. These noble Characters, from whom he sprung, In Hist’ry fam’d: Whom ancient Bards have sung. See, from his steady Hand, and aiming Eye, How straight in equal Lengths the Arrows fly: Both at one End close by the Mark they stand, Which points him worthy of his brave Command; That as they to his num’rous Merits bow, This Victory makes Homage fully due. 331

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Poems Sage Drummond next, the Chief, with Counsel grave, Becomes his Post, instructing all that’s brave: So Pallas seem’d, who Mentor’s Form put on, 55 To make a Heroe of Ulysses’ Son. Each Officer his Character maintains, While Love and Honour gratify their Pains. No View inferior brings them to the Field, To whom great Chiefs of Clans with Pleasure yield. No hidden Murmure swells the Archer’s Heart, While each with Gladness acts his proper Part. No factious Strife, nor Plots, the Bane of States, Give Birth to Jealousies or dire Debates: Nor less their Pleasure who Obedience pay, Good Order to preserve, as those who sway. O smiling Muse, full well thou knows the Fair; Admire the Courteous, and with Pleasure share Their Love with him that’s generous and brave, And can with manly Dignity behave; Then haste to warn thy tender Care with Speed, Lest by some Random-shaft their Hearts may bleed. Yon dangerous Youths both Mars and Venus arm, While with their double Darts they threat and charm; Those at their Side forbid invading Foes, With vain Attempt true Courage to oppose; While Shafts mair subtile, darted from their Eye, Thro’ softer Hearts with silent conquest fly.

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To the Right Honourable Earl of Hartford, Lord Peircy, President, and the rest of the Honourable Members of the Society of British Antiquarians.

A Scots Ode. To HARTFORD and his learned Friends, Whase Fame for Science far extends, A Scottish Muse her Duty sends, From Pictish Towers: Health, Length of Days, and happy Ends, 5 Be ever yours. Your generous Cares make Light arise From things obscure to vulgar Eyes, Finding where hidden Knowledge lies, T’ improve the Mind; 10 And most delightfully surprise, With Thoughts refin’d. 332

Ode to the Society of British Antiquarians When you the broke Inscription read, Or amongst antique Ruins tread, And view Remains of Princes dead, 15 In Funeral Piles, Your Penetration seems decreed To bless these Isles, Where Romans form’d their Camps of old, Their Gods and Urns of curious Mold, 20 Their Medals struck of Brass or Gold, ’Tis you can show, And Truth of what’s in Story told, To you we owe. How beneficial is the Care, 25 That brightens up the Classick Lere! When you the Documents compare, With Authors old, You ravish, when we can so fair Your Light behold. 30 Without your Comments, each old Book By all the World would be forsook: For who of Thought wou’d deign to look, On doubtful Works, ’Till by your skilfull Hands they’re struck 35 With Sterling Marks? By this your Learning Men are fir’d With Love of Glory, and inspir’d Like ancient Heroes, who ne’er tir’d To win a Name; 40 And, by their God-like Acts, aspir’d T’ immortal Fame. Your useful Labours shall endure, True Merit shall your Fame secure, And will Posterity allure, 45 To search about For Truth, by Demonstration sure, Which leaves no Doubt. The Muse forsees brave HARTFORD’s Name Shall to all Writers be a Theme, 50 To last while Arts and Greatness claim Th’ Historian’s Skill, Or the chief Instrument of Fame, The Poet’s Quill. 333

Poems PEMBROKE’S a Name to Britain dear, 55 For Learning and brave Deeds of Wier; The Genius still continues clear In him whose Art, In your rare Fellowship can bear So great a Part. 60 Bards yet unborn shall tune their Lays, And Monuments harmonious raise To WINCHELSEA AND DEVON’S Praise, Whose high Desert, And Vertues bright, like genial Rays, 65 Can Life impart. Nor want we Caledonia’s Sage, Who read the painted Vellum Page, No Strangers to each antique Stage, And Druids Cells, 70 And sacred Ruins of each Age, On Plains and Fells. Amongst all those of the first Rate, Our learned * CLERK blest with the Fate18 Of thinking right, can best relate 75 These Beauties all, Which bear the Marks of ancient Date, Be-north the Wall. The Wall which Hadrian first begun, And bold Severus carried on, 80 From Rising to the Setting Sun, On Britain’s Coast, Our Ancestors fierce Arms to shun, Which gall’d them most. But now no need of Walls or Towers, 85 Ag’d Enmity no more endures, Brave Britain joins her warlike Powers, That always dare, To open and to shut the Doors Of Peace and War. 90 Advance, great Men, your wise Design, And prosper in the Task divine; Draw from Antiquity’s deep Mine, The precious Ore, And in the British Annals shine, 95 Till Time’s no more. * Sir John Clerk of Pennycuik, Baronet.

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On the Marquis of Annandale

On the Marquis of Annandale’s conveying me a Present of Guineas in my Snuff-mill, after he had taken all the Snuff. The Chief requir’d my Snishing-mill, And well it was bestow’d; The Patron, by the rarest Skill, Turn’d all the Snuff to Gowd. Gowd stampt with Royal Anna’s Face, 5 Piece after Piece came forth; The Pictures smil’d, gi’en with such Grace, By ane of so much Worth. Sure thus the patronizing Roman Made Horace spread the Wing; 10 Thus Dorset, by kind Deeds uncommon, Rais’d Prior up to sing. That there are Patrons yet for me, Here’s a convincing Proof, Since ANNANDALE gives Gowd as free, 15 As I can part with Snuff.

The Monk and the Miller’s Wife.



A Tale.

Now lend your Lugs, ye Benders fine, Wha ken the Benefit of Wine; And you wha laughing scud brown Ale, Leave Jinks a wee, and hear a Tale. An honest Miller wond in Fife, 5 That had a young and wanton Wife, Wha sometimes thol’d the Parish Priest To mak her Man a twa-horn’d Beast: He paid right mony Visits till her; And to keep in with Hab the Miller, 10 He endeavour’d aft to mak him happy, Where e’er he kend the Ale was nappy. Sic Condescension in a Pastor, Knit Halbert’s Love to him the faster; And by his Converse, troth ’tis true, 15 Hab learn’d to preach when he was fou. Thus all the three were wonder pleas’d, The Wife well serv’d, the Men well eas’d. This ground his Corns, and that did cherish 335

Poems Himsell with dining round the Parish. 20 Bess the Good-wife thought it nae Skaith, Since she was able to serve them baith. When equal is the Night and Day, And Ceres gives the Schools the Play, A Youth sprung frae a gentle Pater, 25 Bred at Saint Andro’s Alma Mater, Ae Day gawn hameward, it fell late, And him benighted by the Gate: To ly without, Pit-mirk did shore him; He coudna see his Thumb before him: 30 But, Clack, — clack, — clack, he heard a Mill, Whilk led him be the Lugs theretill. To tak the threed of Tale alang, This Mill to Halbert did belang. Not less this Note your Notice claims, 35 The Scholar’s Name was Master James. Now, smiling Muse, the Prelude past, Smoothly relate a Tale shall last As lang as Alps and Grampian Hills, As lang as Wind or Water-mills. 40 In enter’d James, Hab saw and kend him, And offer’d kindly to befriend him With sic good Chear as he cou’d make, Baith for his ain and Father’s Sake. The Scholar thought himsell right sped, 45 And gave him Thanks in Terms well bred. Quoth Hab, I canna leave my Mill As yet; — but step ye west the Kill A Bow-shot, and ye’ll find my Hame: Gae warm ye, and crack with our Dame, 50 Till I set aff the Mill; syne we Shall tak what Bessy has to gi’e. James, in Return, what’s handsome said, O’er lang to tell; and aff he gade. Out of the House some Light did shine, 55 Which led him till’t as with a Line: Arriv’d, he knock’d; for Doors were steekit; Straight throw a Window Bessy keekit, And cries, “Wha’s that gi’es Fowk a Fright “At sic untimous time of Night?” 60 James with good Humour, maist discreetly, Tald her his Circumstance completely. “I dinna ken ye, quoth the Wife, “And up and down the Thieves are rife: “Within my lane, I’m but a Woman; 65 “Sae I’ll unbar my Door to nae Man. 336

The Monk and the Miller's Wife “But since ’tis very like, my Dow, “That all ye’re telling may be true, “Hae there’s a Key, gang in your Way “At the neist Door, there’s braw Ait Strae; 70 “Streek down upon’t, my Lad, and learn, “They’re no ill lodg’d that get a Barn.” Thus after meikle Clitter-clatter, James fand he coudna mend the Matter; And since it might not better be, 75 With Resignation took the Key, Unlockt the Barn, — clam up the Mou, Where was an Opening near the Hou, Throw whilk he saw a Glent of Light, That gave Diversion to his Sight: 80 By this he quickly cou’d discern A thin Wa’ separate House and Barn, And throw this Rive was in the Wa’, All done within the House he saw: He saw (what ought not to be seen, 85 And scarce gave Credit to his Een) The Parish Priest of reverend Fame In active Courtship with the Dame. — To lengthen out Description here, Wou’d but offend the modest Ear, 90 And beet the lewder youthfu’ Flame, That we by Satyre strive to tame. Suppose the wicked Action o’er, And James continuing still to glower; Wha saw the Wife, as fast as able, 95 Spread a clean Servite on the Table, And syne, frae the Ha’ Ingle, bring ben A pyping het young roasted Hen, And twa good Bottles stout and clear, Ane of strong Ale, and ane of Beer. 100 But wicked Luck, just as the Priest Shot in his Fork in Chucky’s Breast, Th’ unwelcome Miller ga’e a Roar, Cry’d, Bessy, haste ye open the Door. — With that the haly Letcher fled, 105 And darn’d himsell behind a Bed; While Bessy huddl’d a’ things by, That nought the Cuckold might espy; Syne loot him in; — but out of tune, Speer’d why he left the Mill sae soon, 110 I come, said he, as Manners claims, To crack and wait on Master James, Whilk I shou’d do, tho’ ne’er sae bissy: I sent him here, Goodwife, where is he? “Ye sent him here! (quoth Bessy, grumbling;) 115 337

Poems “Kend I this James! A Chiel came rumbling: “But how was I assur’d, when dark, “That he had been nae thievish Spark, “Or some rude Wencher, gotten a Dose, “That a weak Wife cou’d ill oppose?” And what came of him? Speak nae langer, Crys Halbert in a Highland Anger. “I sent him to the Barn,” quoth she. Gae quickly bring him in, quoth he.

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JAMES was brought in; — the Wife was bawked; 125 The Priest stood close; — the Miller cracked: — Then ask’d his sunkan gloomy Spouse, What Supper had she in the House, That might be suitable to gi’e, Ane of their Lodger’s Qualitie? 130 Quoth she, “Ye may well ken, Goodman, “Your Feast comes frae the Pottage-Pan: “The Stov’d or Roasted we afford, “Are aft great Strangers on our Board.” Pottage, quoth Hab, ye senseless Tawpie! 135 Think ye this Youth’s a Gilly-gawpy; And that his gentle Stamock’s master To worry up a Pint of Plaister, Like our Mill Knaves that lift the Laiding, Whase Kytes can streek out like raw Plaiding. 140 Swith roast a Hen, or fry some Chickens, And send for Ale frae Maggy Pickens. “Hout I, quoth she, ye may well ken, “’Tis ill brought butt that’s no there ben; “When but last Owk, nae farder gane, 145 “The Laird got a’ to pay his Kain.” Then James, wha had as good a Guess Of what was in the House as Bess, With pawky Smile, this Plea to end, To please himsell, and ease his Friend, First open’d with a slee Oration His wond’rous Skill in Conjuration. Said he, “By this fell Art I’m able “To whop aff any great Man’s Table “What e’er I like, to make a Mail of, “Either in part, or yet the hail off; “And if ye please, I’ll shaw my Art. —” Crys Halbert, Faith with a’ my Heart! Bess sain’d herself, — cry’d, LORD be here! And near hand fell a swoon for Fear. James leugh, and bade her nothing dread, Syne to his Conjuring went with Speed; And first he draws a Circle round, 338

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The Monk and the Miller's Wife Then utters mony a magick Sound, Of Words part Latin, Greek and Dutch, 165 Enow to fright a very Witch: That done, he says, Now, now ’tis come, And in the Boal beside the Lum: Now set the Board; Goodwife, gae ben, Bring frae yon Boal a roasted Hen. 170 She wadna gang, but Haby ventur’d; And soon as he the Ambrie enter’d, It smell’d sae well, he short time sought it, And, wondring, ’tween his Hands he brought it. He view’d it round, and thrice he smell’d it, 175 Syne with a gentle Touch he felt it. Thus ilka Sense he did conveen, Lest Glamour had beguil’d his Een: They all, in a united Body, Declar’d it a fine fat How-towdy. 180 Nae mair about it, quoth the Miller, The Fowl looks well, and we’ll fa’ till her. Sae be’t, says James; and in a doup, They snapt her up baith Stoup and Roup. “Neist, O! crys Halbert, cou’d your Skill, “But help us to a Waught of Ale, “I’d be oblig’d t’ ye a’ my Life, “And offer to the Deel my Wife, “To see if he’ll discreeter make her, “But that I’m fleed he winna take her.” Said James, Ye offer very fair; The Bargain’s hadden, say nae mair. Then thrice he shook a Willow Wand, With kittle Words thrice gave Command; That done, with Look baith learn’d and grave, Said, Now ye’ll get what ye wad have; Twa Bottles of as nappy Liquor, As ever ream’d in Horn or Bicquor, Behind the Ark that hads your Meal, Ye’ll find twa standing corkit well. He said, and fast the Miller flew, And frae their Nest the Bottles drew; Then first the Scholar’s Health he toasted, Whase Art had gart him feed on roasted; His Father’s neist, — and a’ the rest Of his good Friends that wish’d him best, Which were o’er longsome at the time, On a short Tale to put in Rhime. Thus while the Miller and the Youth, Were blythly slock’ning of their Drowth, 339

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Poems Bess fretting scarcely held frae greeting, The Priest enclos’d stood vex’d and sweating. O wow! said Hab, if ane might speer, Dear Master James, wha brought out Chear? Sic Laits appear to us sae awfu’, 215 We hardly think your Learning lawfu’. “To bring your Doubts to a Conclusion, “Says James, ken I’m a Rosiecrucian, “Ane of the Set that never carries “On traffick with black Deels or Fairies: 220 “There’s mony a Sp’rit that’s no a Deel, “That constantly around us wheel. “There was a sage call’d Albumazor, “Whase Wit was gleg as ony Razor. “Frae this great Man we learn’d the Skill, 225 “To bring these Gentry to our Will; “And they appear when we’ve a mind, “In ony Shape of humane Kind: “Now, if you’ll drap your foolish Fear, “I’ll gar my Pacolet appear.” 230 HAB fidg’d and leugh, his Elbuck clew, Baith fear’d and fond a Sp’rit to view: At last his Courage wan the Day, He to the Scholar’s Will gave way. BESSY be this began to smell 235 A Rat, but kept her Mind to’r sell: She pray’d like Howdy in her Drink, But mean time tipt young James a Wink. James frae his Eye an Answer sent, Which made the Wife right well content. 240 Then turn’d to Hab, and this advis’d, “What e’er ye see, be nought surpriz’d; “But for your Saul move not your Tongue, “And ready stand with a great Rung; “Syne as the Sp’rit gangs marching out, 245 “Be sure to lend him a sound Rout. “I bidna this be way of Mocking; “For nought delytes him mair than Knocking.” HAB got a Kent, — stood by the Hallan; And straight the wild mischievous Callan, 250 Cries, “Radamanthus Husky Mingo, “Monk-horner, Hipock, Jinko, Jingo, “Appear in Likeness of a Priest, “No like a Deel in Shape of Beast, “With gaping Chafts to fleg us a’. 255 340

The Monk and the Miller's Wife “Wauk forth; the Door stands to the Wa’.” Then frae the Hole where he was pent, The Priest approach’d right well content, With silent Pace strade o’er the Floor, Till he was drawing near the Door; Then, to escape the Cudgel, ran; But was not miss’d by the Goodman, Wha lent him on the Neck a Lounder, That gart him o’er the Threshold founder. Darkness soon hid him frae their Sight; Ben flew the Miller in a Fright: I trow, quoth he, I laid well on; But wow he’s like our ain Mess John!

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Advice to Mr. ----- on his Marriage. All Joy to you and your Amelie, May ne’er your Purse nor Vigour fail ye; But have a Care how you employ Them baith; and tutor well your Joy. Frae me an auld Dab take Advice, 5 And hane them baith, if ye be wise; For Warld’s Wasters, like poor Cripples, Look blunt with Poverty and Ripples: There an auld Saw to ilk ane notum, Better to save at Braird than Bottom; 10 Which means, your Purse and Person use As canny Poets do their Muse; For Whip and Spurring never prove Effectual, or in Verse of Love. Sae far, my Friend, in merry Strain, 15 I’ve given a douse Advice and plain, And honestly discharg’d my Conscience In Lines (tho’ hamely) far frae Nonsense. Some other Chiel may daftly sing, That kens but little of the thing, 20 And blaw ye up with windy Fancies That he has thigit frae Romances, Of endless Raptures, constant Glee, That never was, or ne’er will be. Alake! poor Mortals are not Gods, 25 And therefore often fall at Odds; But little Quarrels now and than Are nae great Faults ’tween Wife and Man: These help right aften to improve His Understanding and her Love. 30 341

Poems Your Rib and you, ’bout Hours of drinking, May chance to differ in your thinking; But that’s just like a Shower in May, That gars the Sun-blink seem mair gay. If e’er she tak the Pet, or fret, 35 Be calm, and yet maintain your State; And smiling, ca’ her little Foolie, Syne with a Kiss evite a Toolie. This Method’s ever thought the braver, Than either Cuffs, or Clish-ma-claver. 40 It shaws a Spirit low and common, That with ill Nature treats a Woman: They’re of a Make sae nice and fair, They must be manag’d with some Care; Respect them, they’ll be kind and civil, 45 But disregarded, prove the Devil.

To Mrs. M. M. on her Painting. To paint his Venus, auld Apelles Wal’d a’ the bonny Maids of Greece: Thou needs nae mair, but paint thy sell, Lass, To ding the Painter and his Piece.

The LURE: A Tale. The Sun just o’er the Hills was peeping, The Hynds arising, Gentry sleeping, The Dogs were barking, Cocks were crawing, Night-drinking Sots counting their Lawing; Clean were the Roads, and clear the Day, 5 When forth a Falconer took his Way, Nane with him but his she Knight errant, That acts in Air the bloody Tyrant; While with quick Wing, fierce Beek and Claws, She breaks divine and humane Laws; 10 Ne’er pleas’d, but with the Hearts and Livers Of Peartricks, Teals, Moor-powts and Plivers; Yet is she much esteem’d and dandl’d, Clean lodg’d, well fed, and saftly hand’d. Reason for this need be nae Wonder, 15 Her Parasites share in the Plunder. Thus sneaking Rooks about a Court, That make Oppression but their Sport, Will praise a paughty bloody King, And hire mean Hackney-Poets to sing 20 His Glories; while the Deel be licket He e’er attempt but what he sticket. 342

The Lure So, Sir, as I was gawn to say, This Falconer had tane his Way 25 O’er Calder-moor; and gawn the Moss up, He there forgather’d with a Gossip: And wha was’t, trow ye, but the Deel, That had diguis’d himsell sae weel In humane Shape, sae snug and wylie; Jude took him for a Burrlie-baillie: 30 His cloven Cloots were hid with Shoon, A Bonnet coor’d his Horns aboon: Nor spar he Fire, or Brimstone rifted, Nor awesome glowr’d; but cawmly lifted His Een and Voice, and thus began, 35 Good Morning t’ye, honest Man, Ye’re early out: — How far gae ye This Gate? — I’m blyth of Company — What Fowl is that, may ane demand, That stands sae trigly on your Hand? 40 “Wow Man! quoth Juden, where won ye? “The like was never speer’d at me! “Man, ’tis a Hawk, and e’en as good “As ever flew, or wore a Good.” Friend, I’m a Stranger, quoth auld Symmie, 45 I hope ye’ll no be angry wi’ me; The Ignorant maun ay be speering Questions, till they come to a Clearing. Then tell me mair — What do ye wi’t? It’s good to sing? or good to eat? 50 “For neither, answer’s simple Juden; “But helps to bring my Lord his Food in: “But Fowls start up that I wad hae, “Straight frae my Hand I let her gae; “Her Hood tane aff, she is not langsome 55 “In taking Captives, which I ransome “With a Dow’s Wing, or Chicken’s Leg.” Trowth, quoth the Deel, that’s nice! I beg Ye’ll be sae kind, as let me see How this same Bird of yours can flee. 60 “T’ oblige ye, Friend, I wanna stand.” — Syne loos’d the Falcon frae his Hand. Unhooded, up she sprang with Birr, While baith stood staring after her. But how d’ye get her back? said Nick. 65 “For that, quoth Jude, I have a Trick. “Ye see this Lure, — it shall command “Her upon Sight down to my Hand.” Syne twirl’d it thrice, with whieu-whieu-whieu — And straight upon’t the Falcon flew. 70 As I’m a Sinner! crys the Deel, I like this Pastime wonder weel; 343

Poems And since ye’ve been sae kindly free, To let her at my Bidding flee, I’ll entertain ye in my Gate. — 75 Mean time it was the Will of Fate, A hooded Friar (ane of that Clan Ye have descriv’d by Father * Gawin,19 In Master-keys) came up; good Saul! Him Satan cleek’t up by the Spaul, 80 Whip’d aff his Hood, and without mair, Ga’e him a Toss up in the Air. High flew the Son of Saint Loyola, While startled Juden gave a Hola! Bumbaz’d with Wonder, still he stood, 85 The Ferly had ’maist crudled his Blood, To see a Monk mount like a Facon, He ’gan to doubt if he was wakin: Thrice did he rub his Een to clear; And having master’d part o’s Fear, 90 “His Presence be about us a’! “He cries, the like I never saw: “See, see! he like a Lavrock tours — “He’ll reek the Starns in twa ’r three Hours! “Is’t possible to bring him back?” 95 For that, quoth Nick, I have a Knack; To train my Birds, I want na Lures, Can manage them as ye do your’s: And there’s ane coming, hie gate, hither, Shall soon bring down the haly Brither. 100 This was a fresh young Landwart Lass, With Cheeks like Cherries, Een like Glass; Few Coats she wore, and they were kilted, And (John come kiss me now) she lilted. As she skift o’er the Benty Knows, 105 Gawn to the Bught to milk the Ews; Her in his Hand slee Belzie hint up, As eith as ye wad to a Pint-Stoup, Inverted, wav’d her round his Head: Whieu, — Whieu, — he whistled, and with Speed 110 Down, quick as shooting Starns, the Priest Came souse upon the Lass’s Breast. The Moral of this Tale shews plainly That carnal Minds attempt but vainly Aboon this laigher Warld to mount, 115 While Slaves to Satan. * The reverend Anthony Gawin, formerly a Spanish Roman Catholick Priest, now an Irish Protestant Minister, who hath lately wrote three Volumes on the Tricks and Whoredoms of the Priests and Nuns; which Book he names Master-keys to Popery.

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An Anacreontique on Love

An Anacreontique on Love. When a’ the Warld had clos’d their Een, Fatigu’d with Labour, Care and Din, And quietly ilka weary Wight Enjoy’d the Silence of the Night: Then Cupid, that ill-deedy Get, 5 With a’ his Pith rapt at my Yet. Surpriz’d, throw Sleep, I cry’d, Wha’s that? Quoth he, A poor young Wean a’ wet; Oh! haste ye apen, — fear nae Skaith, Else soon this Storm will be my Death. 10 With his Complaint my Saul grew wae, For as he said I thought it sae; I took a Light, and fast did rin To let the chittering Infant in: And he appear’d to be nae Kow, For a’ his Quiver, Wings and Bow. His bairnly Smiles and Looks gave Joy, He seem’d sae innocent a Boy: I led him ben but any Pingle, And beekt him brawly at my Ingle; Dighted his Face, his Handies thow’d, ’Till his young Cheeks, like Roses, glow’d. But soon as he grew warm and fain, Let’s try, quoth he, if that the Rain Has wrang’d ought of my sporting Gear, And if my Bow-string’s hale and fier. With that his Arch’ry Graith he put In order, and made me his Butt; Mov’d back apiece, — his Bow he drew; Fast throw my Breast his Arrow flew. That done, as if he’d found a Nest, He leugh, and with unsonsy Jest, Cry’d, Nibour, I’m right blyth in Mind, That in good Tift my Bow I find: Did not my Arrow flie right smart? Ye’ll find it sticking in your Heart.

On Mr. Drummond’s being chosen one of the Honourable Commissioners of the Customs;



An Epigram.

The Good are glad, when Merit meets Reward; And thus they share the Pleasure of another, While little Minds, who only self regard, Will sicken at the Success of a Brother. 345

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Poems Hence I am pleas’d to find my self right class’d, Even by this Mark, that’s worthy of observing; It gives me Joy, the Patent lately pass’d In Favour of dear DRUMMOND, most deserving.

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The Address of the MUSE, To the Right Honourable George Drummond Esq; Lord Provost; and Council of Edinburgh. My Lord, my Patron, good and kind, Whose every Act of generous Care The Patriot shews, and trusty Friend; While Favours by your Thoughts refin’d, Both Publick and the Private share. 5 To You the Muse her duteous Homage pays, While Edinburgh’s Interest animates her Lays. Nor will the Best some Hints refuse: The narrow Soul, that least brings forth, To an Advice the rarest bows; 10 Which the extensive Mind allows, Being conscious of its genuine Worth, Fears no Eclipse; nor with dark Pride declines, A Ray from Light, that far inferior shines. Our Reason and Advantage call 15 Us to preserve what we esteem; And each should contribute, tho’ small, Like Silver Rivulets that fall In one, and make a spreading Stream. So should a City all her Care unite, 20 T’ engage with Entertainments of Delight. Man for Society was made, His Search of Knowledge has no Bound; Through the vast Deep he loves to wade, But subjects ebb, and Spirits fade, 25 On Wilds and thinly peopl’d Ground. Then where the World, in Minature, employs Its various Arts, the Soul its Wish enjoys. Sometimes the social Mind may rove, And trace, with Contemplation high, The natural Beauties of the Grove, Pleas’d with the Turtle’s making Love, While Birds chant in a Summer Sky. But when cold Winter snows the naked Fields, The City then its changing Pleasure yields. 346

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Address to Provost Drummond, &c. Then you, to whom pertains the Care, And have the Power to act aright, Nor pains, nor prudent Judging spare, The Good Town’s Failings to repair, And give her Lovers more Delight. 40 Much you have done, both useful and polite; O never tire! till every Plan’s complete. Some may object, We Money want, Of every Project Soul and Nerve. ’Tis true; — but sure, the Parliament 45 Will ne’er refuse frankly to grant Such Funds as good Designs deserve. The thriving well of each of Britain’s Towns, Adds to her Wealth, and more her Grandeur crowns. Allow that fifteen thousand Pounds 50 Were yearly on Improvements spent; If Luxury produce the Funds, And well laid out, there are no Grounds For murmuring, or the least Complaint: Materials all within our native Coast, 55 The Poor’s employ’d, we gain, and nothing’s lost. Two hundreds, for five Pounds a day, Will work like Turkish Galey Slaves; And, e’er they sleep, they will repay Back all the Publick forth did lay, 60 For small Support that Nature craves. Thus kept at Work, few Twangs of Guilt they feel, And are not tempt’ by pinching Want to steal. Most wisely did our City move, When * HOPE, who judges well and nice,20 65 Was chosen fittest to improve, From rushy Tufts the pleasing Grove, From Bogs a rising Paradise. Since Earth’s Foundation, to our present Day, The beauteous Plain in Mud neglected lay. 70 Now, evenly planted, hedg’d and drain’d, Its Verdures please the Scene and Sight; And here the Fair may walk unpain’d, Her flowing Silks and Shows unstain’d, Round the green Circus of Delight: 75 Which shall by ripening Time still sweeter grow, And HOPE be fam’d while Scotsmen draw the Bow. * Mr. Hope of Rankeilour, who has beautifully planted, hedged and drained Straiton’s Meadow, which was formerly the Bottom of a Lake.

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Poems Ah! while I sing, the Northern Air, Throu’ Gore and Carnage gives Offence; Which should not, while a River fair, 80 Without our Walls flows by so near; Carriage from thence but small Expence: The useful Corporation too would find, By working there, more Health, and Ease of Mind. Then sweet our Nothern Flowers would blow, 85 And sweet our Nothern Alleys end: Sweet all the Nothern Springs would flow, Sweet Nothern Trees and Herbs would grow, And from the Lake a Field be gain’d: Where on the Springs green Margent by the Dawn, 90 Our Maids might wash, and blanch their Lace and Lawn. * Forbid a nasty Pack to place21 On Stalls unclean their Herbs and Roots, On the High-street a vile Disgrace, And tempting to our Infant-race, 95 To swallow Poison with their Fruits, Give them a Station, where less spoil’d and seen, The healthful Herbage may keep fresh and clean. Besides, they straiten much our Street, When those who drive the Hack and Dray, 100 In drunk and rude Confusion meet, We know not where to turn our Feet; Mortal our Hazard every Way. Too oft the Ag’d, the Deaf and little Fry, Hem’d in with Stalls, crush’d under Axles ly. 105 Clean Order yields a vast Delight, And Genius’s that brightest shine, Prefer the Pleasure of the Sight Justly, to theirs who Day and Night Sink Health and active Thought in Wine. 110 Happy the Man that’s clean in House and Weed, Tho’ Water be his Drink, and Oat’s his Bread. Kind Fate, on them whom I admire Bestow neat Rooms and Gardens fair, * With the more Freedom some Thoughts in these Stanza’s are advanced, because several Citizens of the best thinking, both in and out of the Magistracy, incline to, and have such Views, if they were not oppos’d by some of gross old-fashion’d Notions. Such will tell you, O! the Street of Edinburgh is the finest Garden of Scotland. And how can it otherwise be, considering how well ’tis dung’d every Night? But this Abuse we hope to see reform’d soon, when the Cart and Warning Bell shall leave the lazy Slatern without Excuse, after Ten at Night.

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Address to Provost Drummond, &c. Pictures that speak the Painter’s Fire, 115 And Learning which the Nine inspire, With Friends that all his Thoughts may share; A House in Edinburgh, when the sullen Storm Defaces Nature’s joyous fragrant Form. O! may we hope to see a Stage, 120 Fill’d with the best of such as can Smile down the Follies of the Age, Correct dull Pride and Party-rage, And cultivate the growing Man; And shew the Virgin every proper Grace, 125 That makes her Mind as comely as her Face. Nor will the most devout oppose, When with a strict judicious Care, The Scenes most vertuous shall be chose, That numerous are, forbidding those 130 That shock the Modest, Good and Fair. The best of things may often be abus’d; That argues not, when right, to be refus’d. Thus, what our Fathers wasting Blood, Of old from the South Britons won, 135 When Scotland reach’d to Humber’s Flood, We shall regain by Arts less rude, And bring the Best and Fairest down, From England’s Northern Counties, nigh as far Distant from Court, as we of Pictland are. 140 Thus far inspir’d with honest Zeal, These Thoughts are offer’d with Submission, By your own Bard, who ne’er shall fail The Interest of the Common-weal; While you indulge and grant Permission To your oblig’d, thus humbly to rehearse His honest and well-meaning Thoughts in Verse.

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On his Grace the Duke of Hamilton’s shooting an Arrow through the Neck of an Eel. As from a Bow a fatal Flane, Train’d by Apollo from the Main, In Water pierc’d an Eel; Sae may the Patriot’s Power and Art, Sic Fate to souple Rogues impart, 5 That drumble the Common-weal. Tho’ they, as ony Eels, are slid, 349

Poems And thro’ that’s vile can scud, A Bolt may reach them, tho’ deep hid, They sculk beneath their Mud.

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Betty and Kate;

A Pastoral Farewell to Mr. Aikman, when he went for London. BETTY. Dear Katie, Willy’s e’en away! Willy, of Herds the wale, To feed his Flock, and make his Hay Upon a distant Dale, Far to the Southward of this Height 5 Where now we dowie stray; Ay hartsome when he chear’d our Sight, And leugh with us a’ Day. KATE. O Willy can Dale Dainties please Thee mair than Moorland Ream; 10 Does Isis flow with sweeter Ease Than Fortha’s gentle Stream? Or takes thou rather mair Delyt In the Strae-hatted Maid, Than in the blooming red and whyt 15 Of her that wears the Plaid? BETTY. Na, Kate, for that we needna mourn, He is not gi’en to Change; But Sauls of sic a shining Turn, For Honour’s like to range: 20 Our Laird, and a’ the Gentry round, Who mauna be said nay, Sic Pleasure in his Art have found, They winna let him stay. Blyth I have stood frae Morn to Een, 25 To see how trye and weel He could delyt us on the Green With a piece Cawk and Keel, On a slid Stane, or smoother Slate, He can the Picture draw 30 Of you or me, or Sheep or Gair, The likest e’er ye saw. Lass thinkna Shame to ease your Mind, I see ye’re like to greet; 350

Betty and Kate: A Pastoral Let gae these Tears, ’tis justly kind, For Shepherd sae complete.

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KATE. Far, far! o’er far frae Spey and Clyde, Stands that great Town of Lud, To whilk our best Lads rin and ride; That’s like to put us wood: 40 For sindle times they e’er come back, Wha anes are heftit there. Sure Bess their Hills are no sae black, Nor yet their Howms sae bare. BETTY. Our Riggs are rich, and green our Heights, 45 And well our Cares reward; But yield, nae doubt, far less Delights, In Absence of our Laird. But we maun cawmly now submit, And our ill Luck lament, 50 And leave’t to his ain Sense and Wit To find his Heart’s Content. A thousand Gates he had to win The Love of auld and young, Did a’ he did with little Din; 55 And in nae Deed was dung. KATE. WILLIAM and MARY never fail’d To welcome with a Smile, And hearten us, when ought we ail’d, Without designing Guile. 60 Lang may she happily posses Wha’s in his Breast infeft, And may their bonny Bairns increase, And a’ with Rowth be left. O William win your Laurels fast, 65 And syne we’ll a’ be fain, Soon as your wandring Days are past, And you’re return’d again. BETTY. Revive her Joys by your Return, To whom you first gave Pain; 70 Judge how her Passions for you burn, By these you bear your ain. Sae may your Kirn with Fatness flow, And a’ your Ky be sleek; And may your Heart with Gladness glow, 75 In finding what ye seek. 351

Poems

To Mr. David Malloch,

On his Departure from Scotland. Since Fate, with Honour, bids thee leave Thy Country for a while, It is nae friendly Part to grieve, When Powers propitious smile. The Task assign’d thee’s great and good, 5 To cultivate two GRAHAMS, Wha from bauld Heroes draw their Blood Of brave immortal Names. Like Wax the dawning Genius takes Impressions, thrawin or even; 10 Then he wha fair the Molding makes, Does Journey-work for Heaven. The sowr weak Pedants spoil the Mind Of those beneath their Care, Who think Instruction is confin’d 15 To poor Grammatick Ware. But better kens my Friend, and can Far nobler Plans design, To lead the Boy up to a Man That’s fit in Courts to shine. 20 Frae Grampian Heights, some may object, Can you sic Knowledge bring? But those laigh Thinkers ne’er reflect, Some Sauls ken ilka thing With vaster Ease at the first Glance, 25 Than misty Minds that plod And thresh for Thought, but ne’er advance Their Stawk aboon their Clod. But he * that could in tender Strains22 Raise Margaret’s plaining Shade, 30 And paint Distress that chills the Veins, While William’s Crimes are red; Shaws to the World, cou’d they observe, A clear deserving Flame — Thus I can roose without Reserve, 35 When Truth supports my Theme. * William and Margaret, a Ballad in Imitation of the old Manner, wherein the Strength of Thought and Passion is more observed than a Rant of unmeaning Words.

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To Mr. David Malloch Gae, Lad, and win a Nation’s Love, By making those in trust, Like WALLACE’S † ACHATES prove,23 Wise, Generous, Brave and Just.

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Sae may his Grace, the illustrious Sire, With Joy paternal see Their rising Bleez of manly Fire, And pay his Thanks to thee.

To CALISTA: An EPIGRAM. Anes Wisdom, Majesty and Beauty, Contended to allure the Swain, Wha fain wad paid to ilk his Duty; But only ane the Prize could gain. Were Jove again to redd Debate 5 Between his Spouse and Daughters twa, And were it dear Calista’s Fate To bid amang them for the Ba’: When given to her, the Shepherd might Then with the single Apple serve a’; 10 Since she’s possest of a’ that’s bright In Juno, Venus, and Minerva.

INSCRIPTION on the Tomb-Stone of Mr. Alexander Wardlaw, late Chamberlain to the Right Honourable Earl of Wigton, erected by His Son Mr. John Wardlaw in the Church of Biggar. Here lyes a Man, whose upright Heart With Vertue was profusely stor’d, Who acted well the honest Part Between the Tenants and their Lord. Between the Sands and flinty Rock 5 Thus steer’d he in the Golden Mean, While his blyth Countenance bespoke A Mind unruffl’d and serene. As to great BRUCE and FLEMINGS prov’d † The heroick Sir John Graham, the Glory of his Name and Nation, (and dearest Friend of the renowned Sir William Wallace) Ancestor of his Grace Duke of Montrose.

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Poems Faithful, so to the FLEMINGS Heir 10 WARDLAW behav’d, and was belov’d For’s Justice, Candor, Faith and Care. His Merit shall preserve his Fame To latest Ages, free from Rust, ’Till the Arch-Angel raise his Frame 15 To join his Soul amongst the Just.

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Sacred to the Memory of her Grace

Anne Dutchess of Hamilton.

Why sounds the Plain with sad Complaint? Why hides the Sun his Beams? Why sigh the Winds sae bleak and cauld? Why mourn the swelling Streams? Wail on, ye Heights; ye Glens, complain; 5 Sun, wear thy cloudy Veil: Sigh, Winds, frae frozen Caves of Snaw: Clyde, mourn the rueful Tale. She’s dead, the beauteous ANNA’s dead; All Nature wears a Gloom: 10 Alas! the comely budding Flower, Is faded in the Bloom. Clos’d in the weeping Marble Vault, Now cauld and blae she lies; Nae mair the Smiles adorn her Cheek, 15 Nae mair she lifts her Eyes. Too soon, O sweetest, fairest, best, Young Parent, lovely Mate, Thou leaves thy Lord and Infant Son, To weep thy early Fate. 20 But late thy chearfu’ Marriage-day, Gave Gladness all around; But late in thee, the youthful Chief A Heaven of Blessings found. His Bosom swells, for much he lov’d; Words fail to paint his Grief: 354

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Ode to the Memory of Anne Dutchess of Hamilton He starts in Dream, and grasps thy Shade, The Day brings nae Relief. The fair Illusion skims away, And Grief again returns; 30 Life’s Pleasures make a vain Attempt, Disconsolate he mourns. He mourns his Loss, a Nations Loss, It claims a Flood of Tears, When sic a lov’d illustrious Star 35 Sae quickly disappears. With Roses and the Lilly Buds, Ye Nymphs, her Grave adorn, And weeping tell, Thus sweet she was, Thus early from us torn. 40 To silent twilight Shades retire, Ye melancholy Swains, In melting Notes repete her Praise, In sighing vent your Pains. But haste, calm Reason, to our Aid, 45 And paining Thoughts subdue, By placing of the pious Fair In a mair pleasing View: Whose white immortal Mind now shines, And shall for ever bright, 50 Above th’ Insult of Death and Pain, By the first Spring of Light. There joins the high melodious Thrang, That strike eternal Strings: In Presence of Omnipotence, 55 She now a Seraph sings. Then cease, Great JAMES, thy flowing Tears, Nor rent thy Soul in vain: Frae Bowers of Bliss she’ll ne’er return To thy kind Arms again, 60 With Goodness still adorn thy Mind, True Greatness still improve; Be still a Patriot just and brave. And meet thy Saint above.

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O D E

To the Memory of Sir ISAAC NEWTON; Inscrib’d to the Royal Society of London for the Improving of Natural Knowledge. Great NEWTON’s dead, — full ripe his Fame; Cease, vulgar Grief, to cloud our Song: We thank the Author of our Frame, Who lent him to the Earth so long. The God-like Man now mounts the Sky, 5 Exploring all yon radiant Spheres; And with one View can more descry, Than here below in eighty Years: Tho’ none, with greater Strength of Soul, Could rise to more divine a Height, 10 Or range the Orbs from Pole to Pole, And more improve the humane Sight. Now with full Joy he can survey These Worlds, and ev’ry shining Blaze, That countless in the Milky Way, 15 Only thro’ Glasses shew their Rays. Thousands in thousand Arts excell’d, But often to one Part confin’d; While ev’ry Science stood reveal’d And clear to his capacious Mind.

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His Penetration, most profound, Launch’d far in that extended Sea, Where humane Minds can reach no Bound, And never div’d so deep as he. Sons of the East and Western World, 25 When on this Leading Star ye gaze, While Magnets guide the Sail unfurl’d, Pay to his Memory due Praise. Thro’ ev’ry Maze he was the Guide; While others crawl’d, he soar’d above: 30 Yet Modestly, unstain’d with Pride, Increas’d his Merit, and our Love. He shunn’d the Sophistry of Words, Which only hatch contentious Spite; His Learning turn’d on what affords 35 By Demonstration most Delight. 356

Ode to the Memory of Sir Isaac Newton BRITAIN may honourable boast, And glory in her matchless Son, Whose Genius has invented most, And finish’d what the rest begun. 40 Ye Fellows of the Royal Class, Who honour’d him to be your Head, Erect in finest Stone and Brass Statues of the Illustrious Dead. Altho’ more lasting than them all, 45 Or ev’n the Poet’s highest Strain, His Works, as long as wheels this Ball, Shall his great Memory sustain. May from your Learned Band arise Newtons to shine thro’ future Times, 50 And bring down Knowledge from the Skies, To plant on wild Barbarian Climes. ’Till Nations, few Degrees from Brutes, Be brought into each proper Road, Which leads to Wisdom’s happiest Fruits, To know their Saviour and their God.

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To William Somervile of Warwickshire Esq; on reading several of his excellent Poems. Sir, I have read, and much admire Your Muse’s gay and easy Flow, Warm’d with that true Idalian Fire That gives the bright and cheerful Glow. I con’d each Line with joyous Care, 5 As I can such from Sun to Sun; And like the Glutton o’er his Fate Delicious, thought them too soon done. The witty Smile, Nature and Art, In all your Numbers so combine, 10 As to complete their just Desert, And grace them with uncommon Shine. Delighted we your Muse regard, When she like Pindar’s spreads her Wings; And Vertue being its own Reward, 15 Expresses by the Sister Springs. 357

Poems Emotions tender croud the Mind, When with the Royal Bard you go, To sigh in Notes divinely kind, The Mighty faln on Mount Gilbo. 20 Much surely was the Virgin’s Joy, Who with the Iliad had your Lays; For e’er, and since the Siege of Troy We all delight in Love and Praise. These Heaven-born Passions, such desire, 25 I never yet cou’d think a Crime; But first-rate Vertues which inspire The Soul to reach at the Sublime. But often Men mistake the Way, And pump for Fame by empty Boast, 30 Like your gilt Ass, who stood to bray, Till in a Flame his Tail he lost. Him th’ incurious Bencher hits, With his own Tale, so tight and clean, That while I read, Streams gush, by Fits 35 Of hearty Laughter, from my Een. Old Chaucer, Bard of vast Ingine, Fontain and Prior, who have sung Blyth Tales the best; had they heard thine On Lob, they’d own themselves out-done. 40 The Plot’s pursu’d with so much Glee, The two officious Dog and Priest, The ’Squire oppress’d, I own, for me, I never heard a better Jest. POPE well describ’d an Omber Game, 45 And King revenging Captive Queen; He merits; but had won more Fame, If Author of your Bowling-Green. You paint your Parties, play each Bowl, So natural, just, and with such Ease, 50 That while I read, upon my Soul! I wonder how I chance to please. Yet I have pleas’d, and please the best; And sure to me Laurels belong, Since British Fair, and ’mongst the best, 55 Somervile’s Consort likes my Song. 358

To William Somervile Esq; Ravish’d I heard th’ harmonious Fair Sing, like a Dweller of the Sky, My Verses with a Scotian Air; Then Saints were not so blest as I.

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In her the valu’d Charms unite; She really is what all would seem, Gracefully handsome, wise and sweet: ’Tis Merit to have her Esteem. Your noble Kinsman her lov’d Mate, 65 Whose Worth claims all the World Respect, Met in her Love a smiling Fate, Which has, and must have good Effect. You both from one great Lineage spring, Both from de Somervile, who came, 70 With William England’s conquering King, To win fair Plains, and lasting Fame. WHICHNOUR he left to’s eldest Son; That first-born Chief you represent: His second came to Caledon, 75 From whom our SOMER’LE take Descent. On Him and You may Fate bestow Sweet balmy Health and cheerful Fire, As long’s ye’d wish to live below, Still blest with all you wou’d desire.

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O Sir! oblige the World, and spread In Print * those and your other Lays;24 This (shall be better’d while they read) And after Ages sound your Praise. I cou’d enlarge — but if I shou’d 85 On what you’ve wrote, my Ode wou’d run Too great a length — Your Thoughts so croud, To note them all, I’d ne’er have done. Accept this Offering of a Muse, Who on her Pictland Hills ne’er tires; 90 Nor shou’d (when Worth invites) refuse To sing the Person she admires.

* Since the writing of this Ode, Mr. Somervile’s Poems are printed by Mr. Lintot in an 8vo Vol.

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From Mr. Somervile. Near fair Avona’s Silver Tide, Whose Waves in soft Meanders glide, I read, to the delighted Swains, Your jocund Songs, and rural Strains. Smooth as her Streams your Numbers flow, 5 Your Thoughts in vary’d Beauties show, Like Flow’rs that on her Borders grow. While I survey, with ravish’d Eyes, This * friendly Gift, my valu’d Prize,25 Where Sister Arts, with Charms divine, 10 In their full Bloom and Beauty shine, Alternately my Soul is blest. Now I behold my welcome Guest, That graceful, that engaging Air, So dear to all the Brave and Fair. 15 Nor has th’ ingenious Artist sown His outward Lineaments alone, But in th’ expressive Draught design’d, The nobler Beauties of his Mind; True Friendship, Love, Benevolence, 20 Unstudied Wit, and manly Sense. Then, as your Book, I wander o’er, And feast on the delicious Store, (Like the laborious busy Bee, Pleas’d with the sweet Variety) 25 With equal Wonder and Surprize, I see resembling Portraits rise. Brace Archers march in bright Array, In Troups the vulgar line the Way. Here the droll Figures slily sneer, 30 Or Coxcombs at full length appear. There Woods and Lawns, a rural Scene, And Swains that gambol on the Green. Your Pen can act the Pencil’s Part With greater Genius, Fire and Art. 35

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Believe me, Bard, no hunted Hind That pants against the Southern Wind, And seeks the Stream thro’ unknown Ways; No Matron in her teeming Days, E’er felt such Longings, such Desires, 40 As I to view those lofty Spires, Those Domes, where fair Edina shrouds * Lord Somervile was pleased to send me his own Picture, and Mr. Ramsay’s Works.

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An Epistle from Mr. Somervile Her tow’ring Head amid the Clouds. But oh! what Dangers interpose? Vales deep with Dirt, and Hills with Snows, 45 Proud Winter-Floods with rapid Force, Forbid the pleasing Intercourse. But sure we Bards whose purer Clay, Nature has mixt with less Allay, Might soon find out an easier Way. 50 Do not sage Matrons mount on high, And switch their Broom-sticks thro’ the Sky; Ride post o’er Hills, and Woods, and Seas, From Thule to th’ † Hesperides?26 And yet the Men of Gresham own 55 That this and stranger Feats are done, By a warm Fancy’s Power alone. This granted; Why can’t you and I Stretch forth our Wings, and cleave the Sky? Since our Poetick Brains, you know, 60 Than theirs must more intensely glow. Did not the Theban Swan take wing, Sublimely soar, and sweetly sing? And do not we of humbler Vein, Sometimes attempt a loftier Strain, 65 Mount sheer out of the Reader’s Sight, Obscurely lost in Clouds and Night?

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Then climb your Pegasus with Speed, I’ll meet thee on the Banks of Tweed: Not as our Fathers did of Yore, 70 To swell the Flood with Crimson Gore; Like the Cadmean murd’ring Brood, Each thirsting for his Brother’s Blood. For now all hostile Rage shall cease; Lull’d in the downy Arms of Peace, 75 Our honest Hands and Hearts shall join, O’er jovial Banquets, sparkling Wine. Let Peggy at thy Elbow wait, And I shall bring my bonny Kate. But hold — Oh! take a special Care, 80 T’ admit no prying Kirkman there; I dread the Penitential Chair. What a strange Figure shou’d I make, A poor abandon’d English Rake; A Squire well-born, and six Foot high, 85 Perch’d in that sacred Pillory? Let Spleen and Zeal be banish’d thence, And troublesome Impertinence, That tells his Story o’er again:

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† The Scilly Islands were so called by the Antients, as Mr. Camden observes.

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Poems Ill Manners and his saucy Train, 90 And Self conceit, and stiff-rumpt Pride, That grin at all the World beside; Foul Scandal, with a Load of Lies, Intrigues, Rencounters, Prodigies; Fame’s busy Hawker, light as Air, 95 That feeds on Frailties of the Fair: Envy, Hypocrisy, Deceit, Fierce Party-Rage, and warm Debate; And all the Hell-hounds that are Foes To Friendship, and the World’s Repose. 100 But Mirth instead, and dimpling Smiles, And Wit, that gloomy Care beguiles; And Joke, and Pun, and merry Tale, And Toasts, that round the Table sail: While Laughter, bursting thro’ the Crowd 105 In Vollies, tells our Joys aloud. Hark! the shrill Piper mounts on high, The Woods, the Streams, the Rocks reply, To this far-sounding Melody. Behold each lab’ring Squeeze prepare 110 Supplies of modulated Air. Observe Croudero’s active Bow, His Head still noddling to and fro, His Eyes, his Cheeks with Raptures glow. See, see the bashful Nymphs advance, 115 To lead the regulated Dance; Flying still, the Swains pursuing, Yet with backward Glances wooing. This, this shall be the joyous Scene; Nor wanton Elves that skim the Green 120 Shall be so blest, so blyth, so gay, Or less regard what Dotards say. My Rose shall then your Thistle greet, The Union shall be more compleat; And, in a Bottle and a Friend, 125 Each National Dispute shall end.

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Answer to the above Epistle

From William Somervile Esq; of Warwickshire. Sir, I had your’s, and own my Pleasure, On the Receipt, exceeded Measure. You write with so much Sp’rit and Glee, Sae smooth, sae strong, correct and free; That any He (by you allow’d 5 To have some Merit) may be proud. If that’s my Fault, bear you the Blame, 362

Answer to Mr. Somervile's Epistle Wha’ve lent me sic a Lift to Fame. Your ain tours high, and widens far, Bright glancing like a first-rate Star, 10 And all the World bestow due Praise On the Collection of your Lays; Where various Arts and Turns combine, Which even in Parts first Poets shine: Like Mat and Swift ye sing with Ease, 15 And can be Waller when you please. Continue, Sir, and shame the Crew That’s plagued with having nought to do, Who Fortune in a merry Mood Has overcharg’d with gentle Blood, 20 But has deny’d a Genius fit For Action of aspiring Wit; Such kenna how t’ employ their Time, And think Activity a Crime: Aught they to either do, or say, 25 Or walk, or write, or read, or pray! When Money, their Factotum’s able To furnish them a numerous Rabble, Who will, for daily Drink and Wages, Be Chair-men, Chaplains, Clerks and Pages: 30 Could they, like you, employ their Hours In planting these delightful Flowers, Which carpet the Poetick Fields, And lasting Funds of Pleasure yields; Nae mair they’d gaunt and gove away, 35 Or sleep or loiter out the Day, Or waste the Night damning their Sauls In deep Debauch, and bawdy Brawls: Whence Pox and Poverty proceed An early Eild, and Spirits dead. 40 Reverse of You; — and Him you Love, Whose brighter Spirit tours above The Mob of thoughtless Lords and Beaus, Who in ilka Actions shows True Friendship, Love, Benevolence, 45 Unstudy’d Wit, and manly Sense. Allow here what you’ve said your sell, Nought can b’ exprest so just and well: To Him and Her, worthy his Love, And every Blessing from above, 50 A Son is given, GOD save the Boy, For theirs and every Som’ril’s Joy. Ye Wardins round him take your Place, And raise him with each manly Grace; Make his Meridian Vertues shine; 55 To add fresh Lustres to his Line: And many may the Mother see 363

Poems Of such a lovely Progeny. Now, Sir, when Boreas nae mair thuds Hail, Snaw and Sleet, frae blacken’d Clouds; 60 While Caledonia’s Hills are green, And a’ her Straths delight the Een; While ilka Flower with Fragrance blows, And a’ the Year it’s Beauty shows; Before again the Winter lour, 65 What hinders then your Nothern Tour? Be sure of Welcome: Nor believe These wha an ill Report would give To Ed’nburgh and the Land of Cakes, That nought what’s necessary lacks. 70 Here Plenty’s Goddess frae her Horn Pours Fish and Cattle, Claith and Corn, In blyth Abundance; — and yet mair, Our Men are brave, our Ladies fair. Now will North Britain yield for Fouth 75 Of ilka thing, and Fellows couth, To any but her Sister South. —

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True, rugged Roads are cursed driegh, And Speats aft roar frae Mountains high: The Body tires; — poor tottering Clay, 80 And likes with Ease at hame to stay; While Sauls stride Warlds at ilka Stend, And can their widening Views extend. Mine sees you, while you chearfu’ roam On sweet Avona’s flow’ry Howm, 85 These recollecting, with full View, These Follies which Mankind pursue; While, conscious of superior Merit, You rise with a correcting Spirit; And, as an Agent of the Gods, 90 Lash them with sharp satyrick Roads: Labour divine! — Next, for a Change, O’er Hill and Dale I see you range, After the Fox or whidding Hare, Confirming Health in purest Air; 95 While Joy frae Heights and Dales resounds, Rais’d by the Hola, Horn and Hounds: Fatigu’d, yet pleas’d, the Chace out-run, I see the Friend, and setting Sun, Invite you to the temp’rate Bicquor, 100 Which makes the Blood and Wit flow quicker. The Clock strikes Twelve, to Rest you bound, To save your Health by sleeping sound. Thus with cool Head and healsome Breast You see new Day stream frae the East: 105 364

Answer to Mr. Somervile's Epistle Then all the Muses round you shine, Inspiring every Thought divine; Be long their Aid — Your Years and Blesses, Your Servant ALLAN RAMSAY wishes.

REASONS for not answering the Hackney Scriblers, my obscure Enemies. These to my blyth indulgent Friends; Dull Faes nought at my Hand deserve: To pump an Answer’s a’ their Ends; But not ae Line, if they shou’d starve. Wha e’er shall with a Midding fight, 5 Of Victory will be beguild; Dealers in Dirt will be to dight, Fa’ they aboon or ’neath, they’re fil’d. It helps my Character to heez, When I’m the Butt of creeping Tools; 10 The Warld, by their daft Medley, sees, That I’ve nae Enemies but Fools. But sae it has been, and will be, While real Poets rise to Fame, Sic poor Macflecknos will let flee 15 Their Venom, and still miss their Aim. Should ane like Young or Somer’le write, Some canker’d Coof can say ’tis wrang: On Pope sic Mungrels shaw’d their Spite; And shot at Addison their Stang. 20 But well dear Spec the feckless Asses To wiest Insects even’d and painted, Sic as by magnifying Glasses Are only kend when throu’ them tented. The blundering Fellows ne’er foryet, 25 About my T[r]ade to f— their Fancies, As if, forsooth, I wad look blate At what my Honour maist advances. Auld Homer sang for’s daily Bread; Surprising Shakspear fin’d the Wool; 30 Great Virgil Creels and Baskets made; And famous Ben employ’d the Trowel. 365

Poems Yet Dorset, Launsdown, Lauderdale, Bucks, Stirling, and the Son of Angus, Even Monarchs, and of Men the Wale, 35 Were proud to be inrow’d amang us. Then, Hackneys, write till ye gae wood, Drudge for the Hawkers Day and Night; Your Malice cannot move my Mood, And equally your Praise I slight.

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I’ve gotten mair of Fame than’s due, Which is secur’d amang the best; And shou’d I tent the like of you, A little Saul wad be confest. Nae Mastive minds a yamphing Cur; 45 A Craig defies a frothy Wave; Nor will a Lyon raise his Fur, Altho’ a Monkey misbehave. Nam satis est Equitem mihi plaudere.

To Mr. DONALD MACEWEN Jeweller at St. Petersburg. How far frae hame my Friend seeks Fame! And yet I canna wyte ye, T’ employ your Fire, and still aspire, By Vertues that delyte ye. Should Fortune lour, ’tis in your Power, 5 If Heaven grant bawmy Health, T’ enjoy ilk Hour a Saul unsowr; Content’s nae Bairn of Wealth. It is the Mind that’s not confin’d To Passions mean and vile, 10 That’s never pin’d, while Thoughts refin’d Can gloomy Cares beguile. Then Donald may be e’en as gay, On Russia’s distant Shore, As on the Tay, where Usquebae 15 He us’d to drink before. But howsoe’er, haste, gather Gear, And syne pack up your Treasure; Then to Auld Reekie come, and beek ye, And close your Days with Pleasure. 20 366

To Mr. Donald Macewen

To the same, on receiving a Present from him of a Seal, Homer’s Head finely cut in Crystal, and set in Gold. Thanks to my frank ingenious Friend; Your Present’s most gentile and kind, Baith rich and shining as your Mind; And that immortal laurell’d Pow, Upon the Gem sae well design’d 5 And execute, sets me on Low. The heavenly Fire inflames my Breast, Whilst I unweary’d am in quest Of Fame, and hope that Ages niest Will do their Highland Bard the Grace, 10 Upon their Seals to cut his Crest, And blithest Strakes of his short Face. Far less great Homer ever thought (When he, harmonious Beggar! sought His Bread throu’ Greece) he should be brought, Frae Russia’s Shore by Captain * Hugh,27 To Pictland Plains, sae finely wrought On precious Stone, and set by You.

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A Ballad on bonny Kate. Cease, Poets, your cunning devising Of Rhimes that low Beauties o’er-rate; They all, like the Stars at the rising Of Phœbus, must yield to fair KATE. We sing, and we think it our Duty 5 To admire the kind Blessings of Fate That has favour’d the Earth with such Beauty, As shines so divinely in KATE. In her Smiles, in her Features and Glances, The Graces shine forth in full State, 10 While the God of Love dangerously dances On the Neck and white Bosom of KATE. How straight, how well-turn’d, and gentile, are Her Limbs! and how graceful her Gait! Their Hearts made of Stone, or of Steel are,

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* Captain Hugh Eccles, Master of a fine Merchant Ship, which he lost in the unhappy Fire at St. Petersburg.

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Poems That are not Adorers of KATE. But ah! what a sad Palpatation Feels the Heart, and how simple and blate Must he look, almost dead with Vexation, Whose Love is fixt hopeless on KATE? 20 Had I all the Charms of Adonis, And Galleons freighted with Plate, As SOLOMON wise; I’d think none is So worthy of all, as dear KATE. Ah! had she for me the same Passion, 25 I’d tune the Lyre early and late; The Sage’s Song on his Circasian, Should yield to my Sonnets on KATE. His Pleasure each Moment shall blossom, Unfading, gets her for his Mate; 30 He’ll grasp every Bliss in his Bosom, That’s linked by Hymen to KATE. Pale Envy may raise up false Stories, And Hell may promp Malice and Hate; But nothing shall sully their Glories, 35 Who are shielded with Vertue like KATE. This Name, say ye, many a Lass has, And t’ apply it may raise a Debate; But sure he as dull as an Ass is, That cannot join COCHRAN to KATE. 40

To Dr. J. C. who got the fore going to give to the young Lady. Here, happy Doctor, take this Sonnet, Bear to the Fair the faithful Strains: Bow, make a Leg, and d’off your Bonnet; And get a Kiss, for ALLAN’s Pains. For such a ravishing Reward, 5 The Cloud Compeller’s self would try To imitate a British Bard, And bear his Ballads from the Sky.

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Prologue, before the Acting of Aurenzebe and the Drummer

PROLOGUE, before the Acting of Aurenzebe and the Drummer, by the young Gentlemen of the Grammar School of Haddington, August 1727, spoke by Mr. Charles Cockburn, Son to Colonel Cockburn. Be hush, ye Crowd, who pressing round appear only to stare – we speak to those can hear The nervous Phrase, which raises Thoughts more hy, When added Action leads them thro’ the Eye. To paint fair Vertue, Humours and Mistakes, 5 Is what our School with Pleasure undertakes, Thro’ various Incidents of Life, led on By DRYDEN, and immortal ADDISON: Those study’d Men, and knew the various Springs That mov’d the Minds of Coachmen and of Kings. 10 Altho’ we’re young – allow no Thought so mean, That any here’s to act the Harlequin: We leave such dumb-show Mimickry to Fools, Beneath the Sp’rit of Caledonian Schools. Learning’s our Aim, and all our Care, to reach 15 At Elegance and Gracefulness of Speech, And the Address, from Bashfulness refin’d, Which hangs a Weight upon a worthy Mind. The Grammar’s good, but Pedantry brings down The gentle Dunce below the sprightly Clown. 20 Get seven score Verse of Ovid’s Trist by heart; To rattle o’er; else I shall make you smart, Cry snarling Dominies that little ken: Such may teach Parots, but our * LESLY Men.28

EPILOGUE, after the acting of the Drummer spoke by Mr. Maurice Cockburn, another Son of Colonel Cockburn’s. Our Plays are done – Now criticise, and spare not; And tho’ you are not fully pleas’d, we care not. We have a Reason on our Side – and this is, Your Treat has one good Property – ’tis gratis. We’ve pleas’d our selves; and if we have good Judges, We value not a Head where nothing lodges. The generous Men of Sense will kindly praise us, And, if we make a little Snapper, raise us: Such know th’ aspiring Soul at manly Dawn, * Mr. John Lesley, Master of the School, a Gentleman of true Learning; who, by his excellent method, most worthily fills his Place.

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Poems Abhors the sowr Rebuke, and carping Thrawin; 10 But rises, on the Hope of a great Name, Up all the rugged Roads that lead to Fame. Our Breasts already pant to gain Renown At Senates, Courts, by Arms or by the Gown; Or by Improvements of Paternal Fields, 15 Which never failing Joy and Plenty yeilds; Or by the deep Draughts of the Castalian Springs, To soar with Mantuan or Horatian Wings. Hey Boys! the Day’s our ain! the Ladies smile! Which over-recompenses all our Toil! 20 Delights of Mankind, tho’ in some small Parts We are deficient, yet our Wills and Hearts Are your’s; and, when more perfect, shall endeavour, By acting better, to secure your Favour: To Spinnets then retire, and play a few Tunes, 25 ’Till we get thro’ our Gregories and Newtons; And, some Years hence, we’ll tell another Tale; ’Till then, ye bonny blooming Buds, — Farewell.

PROLOGUE spoke by Mr. Anthony Aston, The first Nigh[t] the[y] acted in Winter 1726. Tis I, — dear Caledonians, blythsome TONY, That oft, last Winter, pleas’d the Brave and Bonny With Medley, merry Song, and comick Scene; Your Kindness then has brought me here again: After a Circuit round the Queen of Isles, To gain your Friendship and approving Smiles, Experience bids me hope; — tho’ South the Tweed The Dastards said, “He never will succeed: “What! such a Country look for any Good in! “That does not relish Plays, — nor Pork, — nor Pudding!” Thus great Columbus by an Idiot Crew Was ridicul’d, at first, for his just View; Yet his undaunted Spirit ne’er gave Ground, Till he a new and better World had found. So I — laugh on — the Simile is bold; But Faith ’tis just: For till this Body’s cold, Columbus like, I’ll push for Fame and Gold.

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A Character

A CHARACTER. Of Judgement just, and Fancy clear, Industrious, yet not avaritious; No Slave to groundless Hope and Fear, Chearful, yet hating to be vitious. From Envy free, tho’ prais’d not vain, 5 Ne’er acting without Honour’s Warrant; Still equal, generous and humane, As Husband, Master, Friend and Parent. So modest, as scarce to be known By glaring, proud conceited Asses, 10 Whose little Spirits aften frown On such as their less Worth surpasses. Ye’ll own he’s a deserving Man, That in these Out-lines stand before ye; And trowth the Picture I have drawn Is very like my Friend * . . . . . . . . 29

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ODE

To Alexander Murray of Brughton, Esq;

On his Marriage with Lady Euphemia, Daughter to the Right Honourable Earl of Galloway. ’Tis conquering Love alone can move The Best to all that’s great; It sweetly binds two equal Minds, And makes a happy State, When such as MURRAY, of a Temper even, 5 And honour’d Worth, receives a Mate from Heaven. Joy to you, Sir, and Joy to her, Whose softer Charms can sooth, With smiling Pow’r, a sullen Hour, And make your Life flow smooth. 10 Man’s but unfinish’d, ’till by Hymen’s Ties, His sweeter Half lock’d in his Bosom lyes.

* The Character, tho’ true, has something in it so great, that my too modest Friend will not allow me to set his Name to it. But this, and some few other Wants, shall be made out afterwards from my Register of Supplies.

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Poems The general Voice approve your Choice, Their Sentiments agree, With Fame allow’d, that she’s a good 15 Branch sprung from a right Tree. Long may the Graces of her Mind delight Your Soul, and long her Beauties bless your Sight. May the bright Guard, who Love reward, With Man recoyn’d again, 20 In Offspring fair make her their Care, In Hours of joyful Pain: And may my Patron healthful live to see, By her a brave and bonny Progeny. Let youthful Swains who ’tend your Plains, Touch the tun’d Reed, and sing, While Maids advance in sprightly Dance, All in the rural Ring; And with the Muse thank the immortal Powers, Placing with Joy EUPHEMIA’s Name with your’s.

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To the Memory of

Mrs. Forbes, Lady Newhall. Ah Life! thou short uncertain Blaze, Scarce worthy to be wish’d, or lov’d; When by strict Death, so many Ways, So soon the Sweetest are remov’d. In Prime of Life and lovely Glow, 5 The dear BRUCINA must submit; Nor could ward of the fatal Blow, With every Beauty, Grace and Wit. If outward Charms, and Temper sweet, The chearful Smile, and Thought sublime, 10 Could have preserv’d, she ne’er had met A Change, ’till Death had sunk with Time. Her Soul glanc’d with each heavenly Ray, Her Form with all these Beauties fair, For which young Brides and Mothers pray, 15 And wish for their Infant Care. Sowr Spleen or Anger, Passion rude, These Opposites to Peace and Heaven, Ne’er pal’d her Cheek, or fir’d her Blood; 372

Ode to the Memory of Lady Newhall Her Mind was ever calm and even.

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Come, fairest Nymphs, and gentle Swains, Give loose to Tears of tender Love; Strow fragrant Flowers on her Remains, While sighing round her Grave you move. In mournful Notes your Pain express, 25 While with Reflection you run o’er, How excellent, how good she was! She was! alas! but is no more! Yet piously correct your Moan, And raise religious Thoughts on hie, After her spotless Soul, that’s gone To Joys that ne’er can fade or die.

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On a Slate’s falling from a House on Mris. M. M-----k’s Breast. Was Venus angry, and in Spite, Allow’d that Stane to fa’, Imagining these Breasts so white Contain’d a Heart of Snaw? Was her wing’d Son sae cankert set 5 To wound her lovely Skin, Because his Arrows could not get A Passage farder in? No: She is to Love’s Goddess dear, Her smiling Boy’s Delight — 10 It was some Hag that doughtna bear Sic Charms to vex her Sight. Some silly sowr pretending Saint, In heart an Imp of Hell, Whase hale Religion lyes in Cant, 15 Her Vertue in wrang Zeal; She threw the Stane, and ettled Death: But watching Zylphs flew round, So guard dear MADIE from all Skaith, And quickly cur’d the Wound. 20

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To my kind and worthy Friends in Ireland, who on a Report of my Death, made and published several Elegies Lyrick and Pastoral, very much to my Honour. Sighing Shepherds of Hiberna, Thank ye for your kind Concern a’, When a fause Report, beguiling, Prov’d a Draw-back on your smiling; Dight your Een, and cease your grieving, 5 ALLAN’s hale, and well, and living, Singing, laughing, sleeping soundly, Cowing Beef, and drinking roundly; Drinking roundly Rum and Claret, Ale and Usquae, Bumpers fair out, 10 Supernaculum but spilling, The least Diamond drawing, filling; Sowing Sonnets on the Lasses, Hounding Satyres at the Asses; Smiling at the surly Criticks, 15 And the Pack-horse of Politicks; Painting Meadows, Schaws and Mountains, Crooking Burns and flowing Fountains; Flowing Fountains, where ilk Gowan Grows about the Borders glowan, 20 Smelling sweetly, and inviting Poets Lays, and Lovers meeting; Meeting kind to niffer Kisses, Bargaining for better Blesses. Hills in dreary Dumps now lying, 25 And ye Zephyrs swiftly flying, And ye Rivers gently turning, And ye Philomellas mourning, And ye double sighing Echoes, Cease your Sobing, Tears, and Hey! ho’s! 30 Banish a’ your Care and Grieving, ALLAN’s hale, and well, and living, Early up on Morning’s shining, Ilka Fancy warm refining, Giving ilka Verse a Burnish 35 That maun Second Volume furnish, To bring in frae Lord and Lady Meikle Fame and Part of Ready; Splendid thing of constant Motion, Fish’d for in the Southern Ocean; 40 Prop of Gentry, Nerve of Battles, Prize for which the Gamester rattles; 374

To my Friends in Ireland Belzie’s Banes, deceitfu’, kittle, Risking a’ to gain a little. Pleasing Philip’s tunefu’ Tickle, 45 Philomel, and kind Arbuckle: Singers sweet, baith Lads and Lasses, Tuning Pipes on Hill Parnassus, ALLAN kindly to you wishes Lasting Life, and Rowth of Blesses; 50 And that he may, when ye surrender Sauls to Heaven, in Number tender Give a’ your Fames a happy Heezy, And gratefully immortalize ye.

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GENTLE SHEPHERD, A Pastoral Comedy;

inscrib’d to the Right Honourable,

SUSANNA Countess of Eglintoun. Madam, The Love of Approbation, and a Desire to please the best, have ever encouraged the Poets to finish their Designs with Chearfulness. But, conscious of their own Inability to oppose a Storm of Spleen and haughty ill Nature, it is generally an ingenious Custom amongst them to chuse some honourable Shade. Wherefore I beg Leave to put my Pastoral under your Ladyship’s Protection, if my Patroness says, the Shepherds speak as they ought, and that there are several natural Flowers that beautify the rural Wild; I shall have good Reason to think my self safe from the aukward Censure of some pretending Judges that condemn before Examination. I am sure of vast Numbers that will croud into your Ladyship’s Opinion, and think it their Honour to agree in their Sentiments with the Countess of Eglintoun, whose Penetration, superior Wit, and sound Judgment, shines with an uncommon Lustre, while accompanied with the diviner Charms of Goodness and Equality of Mind. If it were not for offending only your Ladyship, here, Madam, I might give the fullest Liberty to my Muse to delineate the finest of Women, by drawing your Ladyship’s Character, and be in no Hazard of being deemed a Flatterer; since Flattery lyes not in paying what’s due to Merit, but in Praises misplaced. Were I to begin with your Ladyship’s honourable Birth and Alliance, the Field’s ample, and presents us with numberless, great and good Patriots, that have dignified the Names of Kennedy and Montgomery: Be that the Care of the Herauld and Historian. ’Tis personal Merit, and the heavenly Sweetness of the Fair, that inspire the tuneful Lays. Here every Lesbia must be excepted, 375

Poems whose Tongues give Liberty to the Slaves, which their Eyes had made Captives. Such may be flatter’d; but your Ladyship justly claims our Admiration and profoundest Respect: For whilst you are possest of every outward Charm in the most perfect Degree, the never-fading Beauties of Wisdom and Piety, which adorn your Ladyship’s Mind, command Devotion. All this is very true, cries one of better Sense than good Nature: But what Occasion have you to tell us the Sun shines, when we have the Use of our Eyes, and feel his Influence? –— Very true; but I have the Liberty to use the Poet’s Privilege, which is, To speak what every body thinks. Indeed there might be some Strength in the Reflection, if the Idalian Registers were of as short Duration as Life: But the Bard, who fondly hopes Immortality, has a certain praise-worthy Pleasure, in communicating to Posterity the Fame of distinguished Characters. –— I write this last Sentence with a Hand that trembles between Hope and Fear: But if I shall prove so happy as to please your Ladyship in the following Attempt, then all my Doubts shall vanish like a Morning Vapour; I shall hope to be class’d with Tasso and Guarini, and sing with Ovid, If ’tis allowed to Poets to divine, One Half of round Eternity is mine. Madam, Your Ladyship’s most obedient, and most devoted Servant. Allan Ramsay.

To the Countess of Eglintoun, with the following Pastoral. Accept, o EGLINTOUN! the rural Lays, That, bound to thee, thy Poet humbly pays: The Muse, that oft has rais’d her tuneful Strains, A frequent Guest on Scotia’s blessful Plains, That oft has sung, her list’ning Youth to move, The Charms of Beauty, and the Force of Love, Once more resumes the still successful Lay, Delighted, thro’ the verdant Meads to stray. O! come, invok’d, and pleas’d, with her repair, To breathe the balmy Sweets of purer Air, In the cool Evening negligently laid, Or near the Stream, or in the rural Shade, Propitious hear, and, as thou hear’st, approve The Gentle Shepherd’s tender Tale of Love. Instructed from these Scenes, what glowing Fires Inflame the Breast that real Love inspires! The fair shall read of Ardors, Sighs and Tears, All that a Lover hopes, and all he fears. Hence too, what Passions in his Bosom rise! What dawning Gladness sparkles in his Eyes! When first the Fair One, pitious of his Fate, 376

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To the Countess of Eglintoun Kind of her Scorn, and vanquish’d of her Hate, With willing Mind, is bounteous to relent, And blushing beauteous smiles the kind Consent! Love’s Passion here in each Extreme is shown, 25 In Charlot’s Smile, or in Maria’s Frown. With Words like these, that fail’d not to engage, Love courted Beauty in a golden Age, Pure and untaught, such Nature first inspir’d, Ere yet the Fair affected Phrase desir’d. 30 His secret Thoughts were undisguis’d with Art, His Words ne’er knew to differ from his Heart, He speaks his Love so artless and sincere, As thy Eliza might be pleas’d to hear. Heaven only to the Rural State bestows 35 Conquest o’er Life, and Freedom from its Woes; Secure alike from Envy and from Care; Nor rais’d by Hope, nor yet depress’d by Fear: Nor Want’s lean Hand its Happiness constrains, Nor Riches torture with ill-gotten Gains. 40 No secret Guilt its stedfast Peace destroys, No wild Ambition interrupts its Joys. Blest still to spend the Hours that Heav’n has lent, In humble Goodness, and in calm Content. Serenely gentle, as the Thoughts that roll, 45 Sinless and pure, in fair Humeia’s Soul. But now the Rural State these Joys has lost; Even Swains no more that Innocence can boast. Love speaks no more what Beauty may believe, Prone to betray, and practis’d to deceive. 50 Now Happiness forsakes her blest Retreat, The peaceful Dwellings where she fix’d her Seat, The pleasing Fields she wont of old to grace, Companion to an upright sober Race; When on the sunny Hill, or verdant Plain, 55 Free and familiar with the Sons of Men, To crown the Pleasures of the blameless Feast, She uninvited came a welcome Guest: Ere yet an Age, grown rich in impious Arts, Brib’d from their Innocence incautious Hearts; 60 Then grudging Hate, and sinful Pride succeed, Cruel Revenge, and false unrighteous Deed; Then dowrless Beauty lost the Power to move; The Rust of Lucre stain’d the Gold of Love. Bounteous no more, and hospitably good, 65 The genial Hearth first blush’d with Strangers Blood: The Friend no more upon the Friend relies, And semblant Falshood puts on Truth’s Disguise. The peaceful Houshold fill’d with dire Alarms, The ravish’d Virgin mourns her slighted Charms; 70 The Voice of impious Mirth is heard around; 377

Poems In Guilt they feast, in Guilt the Bowl is crown’d: Unpunish’d Violence lords it o’er the Plains, And Happiness forsakes the guilty Swains. Oh Happiness! from human Search retir’d, 75 Where art thou to be found by all desir’d? Nun sober and devout! why art thou fled, To hide in Shades thy meek contented Head? Virgin of Aspect mild! ah why unkind, Fly’st thou displeas’d, the Commerce of Mankind? 80 O! teach our Steps to find the secret Cell, Where, with thy Sire Content, thou lov’st to dwell. Or say, dost thou a duteous Handmaid wait Familiar at the Chambers of the Great? Dost thou pursue the Voice of them that call 85 To noisy Revel, and to Midnight Ball? Or the full Banquet when we feast our Soul, Dost thou inspire the Mirth, or mix the Bowl? Or, with th’ industrious Planter, dost thou talk, Conversing freely in an Evening Walk? 90 Say, does the Miser e’er thy Face behold Watchful and studious of the treasured Gold? Seeks Knowledge, not in vain, thy much lov’d Pow’r, Still musing silent at the Morning Hour? May we thy Presence hope in War’s Alarms, 95 In Stair’s Wisdom, or in Erskine’s Charms. In vain our flatt’ring Hopes our Steps beguile, The flying Good eludes the Searcher’s Toil: In vain we seek the City or the Cell, Alone with Vertue knows the Pow’r to dwell. 100 Nor need Mankind despair these Joys to know, The Gift themselves may on themselves bestow. Soon, soon we might the precious Blessing boast; But many Passions must the Blessing cost; Infernal Malice, inly pining Hate, 105 And Envy, grieving at another’s State. Revenge no more must in our Hearts remain, Or burning Lust, or Avarice of Gain. When these are in the humane Bosom nurst, Can Peace reside in Dwellings so accurst? 110 Unlike, O EGLINTOUN! thy happy Breast, Calm and serene, enjoys the heavenly Guest; From the tumultuous Rule of Passions free’d, Pure in thy Thought, and spotless in thy Deed. In Vertues rich, in Goodness unconfin’d, 115 Thou shin’st a fair Example to thy Kind; Sincere and equal to thy Neighbour’s Name, How swift to praise, how guiltless to defame? Bold in thy Presence Bashfulness appears, And backward Merit loses all its Fears. 120 Supremely blest by Heav’n, Heav’n’s richest Grace, 378

To the Countess of Eglintoun Confest is thine, an early blooming Race. Whose pleasing Smiles shall guardian Wisdom arm, Divine Instruction! taught of thee to charm. What Transports shall they to thy Soul impart! 125 (The conscious Transports of a Parent’s Heart) When thou beholdst them of each Grace possest, And sighing Youths imploring to be blest; After thy Image form’d, with Charms like thine, Or in the Visit, or the Dance to shine. 130 Thrice happy! who succeed their Mother’s Praise, The lovely EGLINTOUNS of other Days, Mean while peruse the following tender Scenes, And listen to thy native Poet’s Strains. In ancient Garb the home-bred Muse appears, 135 The Garb our Muses wore in former Years; As in a Glass reflected, here behold How smiling Goodness look’d in Days of old. Nor blush to read where Beauty’s Praise is shown, Or vertuous Love, the Likeness of thy own; 140 While ’midst the various Gifts that gracious Heaven, To thee, in whom it is well pleas’d, has given, Let this, O EGLINTOUN! delight thee most, T’ enjoy that Innocence the World has lost. W. H.

The Persons. MEN. Sir William Worthy. Patie, The Gentle Shepherd in Love with Peggy. Roger, a rich young Shepherd in Love with Jenny. Symon, Glaud, } Two old Shepherds, Tenants to Sir William. Bauldy, a Hynd engaged with Neps. WOMEN. Peggy, Thought to be Glaud’s Niece. Jenny, Glaud’s only Daughter. Mause, an old Woman supposed to be a Witch. Elspa, Symon’s Wife. Madge, Glaud’s Sister. SCENE, a Shepherd’s Village and Fields some few Miles from Edinburgh. Time of Action, Within twenty Hours.

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GENTLE SHEPHERD.

ACT I. SCENE I. Beneath the South-side of a Craigy Beild, Where Crystal Springs the halesom Waters yield, Twa youthful Shepherds on the Gowans lay, Tenting their Flocks ae bonny Morn of May. Poor Roger granes till hollow Echoes ring; But blyther Patie likes to laugh and sing.



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PATIE and ROGER.

Pat. This sunny Morning, Roger, chears my Blood, And puts all Nature in a jovial Mood. How heartsome ’tis to see the rising Plants? To hear the Birds chirm o’er their pleasing Rants? How halesome ’tis to snuff the cauler Air, And all the Sweets it bears when void of Care? What ails thee, Roger, then? what gars thee grane? Tell me the Cause of thy ill season’d Pain. Rog. I’m born, O Patie! to a thrawart Fate; I’m born to strive with Hardships sad and great. Tempest may cease to jaw the rowan Flood, Corbies and Tods to grein for Lambkins Blood; But I, opprest with never ending Grief, Maun ay despair of lighting on Relief. Pat. The Bees shall loath the Flower, and quit the Hive, The Saughs on Boggie-Ground shall cease to thrive, Ere scornful Queans, or Loss of warldly Gear, Shall spill my Rest, or ever force a Tear. Rog. Sae might I say; but ’tis no easy done By ane whase Saul is sadly out of tune. You have sae saft a Voice, and slid a Tongue, You are the Darling of baith auld and young. If I but ettle at a Sang, or speak, They dit their Lugs, syne up their Leglens cleek; And jeer me hameward frae the Loan or Bught, While I’m confus’d with mony a vexing Thought: Yet I am tall, and as well built as thee, Nor mair unlikely to a Lass’s Eye. For ilka Sheep ye have, I’ll number ten, And should, as ane may think, come farer ben. Pat. But ablins, Nibour, ye have not a Heart, And downa eithly wi’ your Cunzie part. If that be true, what signifies your Gear? A Mind that’s scrimpit never wants some Care. Rog. My Byar tumbled, nine braw Nowt were smoor’d, 380

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The Gentle Shepherd Three Elf-shot were; yet I these Ills endur’d: In Winter last, my Cares were very sma’, Tho’ Scores of Wathers perish’d in the Snaw. Pat. Were your bein Rooms as thinly stock’d as mine, Less you wad lose, and less you wad repine. He that has just enough, can soundly sleep; The O’ercome only fashes Fowk to keep. Rog. May Plenty flow upon thee for a Cross, That thou may’st thole the Pangs of mony a Loss. O mayst thou doat on some fair paughty Wench, That ne’er will lout thy lowan Drouth to quench, ’Till bris’d beneath the Burden, thou cry Dool, And awn that ane may fret that is nae Fool. Pat. Sax good fat Lambs I sald them ilka Clute At the West-port, and bought a winsome Flute, Of Plumb-tree made, with Iv’ry Virles round, A dainty Whistle with a pleasant Sound: I’ll be mair canty wi’t, and ne’er cry Dool, Than you with all your Cash, ye dowie Fool. Rog. Na, Patie, na! I’m nae sic churlish Beast, Some other thing lyes heavier at my Breast: I dream’d a dreary Dream this hinder Night, That gars my Flesh a’ creep yet with the Fright. Pat. Now to a Friend how silly’s this Pretence, To ane wha you and a’ your Secrets kens: Daft are your Dreams, as daftly wad ye hide Your well seen Love, and dorty Jenny’s Pride. Take Courage, Roger; me your Sorrows tell, And safely think nane kens them but your sell. Rog. Indeed now, Patie, ye have guess’d o’er true, And there is nathing I’ll keep up frae you. Me dorty Jenny looks upon a-squint; To speak but till her I dare hardly mint: In ilka Place she jeers me air and late, And gars me look bumbaz’d, and unko blate: But yesterday I met her ’yont a Know, She fled as frae a Shelly-coated Kow. She Bauldy loes, Bauldy that drives the Car; But gecks at me, and says I smell of Tar. Pat. But Bauldy loes not her, right well I wat; He sighs for Neps — sae that may stand for that. Rog. I wish I cou’dna loe her — but in vain, I still maun doat, and thole her proud Disdain. My Bawty is a Cur I dearly like, Even while he fawn’d, she strak the poor dumb Tyke: If I had fill’d a Nook within her Breast, She wad have shawn mair Kindness to my Beast. When I begin to tune my Stock and Horn, With a’ her Face she shaws a caulrife Scorn. Last Night I play’d, ye never heard sic Spite 381

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Poems O’er Bogie was the Spring, and her Delyte; Yet tauntingly she at her Cousin speer’d, Gif she cou’d tell what Tune I play’d, and sneer’d. Flocks, wander where ye like, I dinna care, 95 I’ll break my Reed, and never whistle mair. Pat. E’en do sae, Roger, wha can help Misluck, Saebeins she be sic a thrawin-gabet Chuck? Yonder’s a Craig, since ye have tint all Hope, Gae till’t your ways, and take the Lover’s Lowp. 100 Rog. I needna mak sic Speed my Blood to spill, I’ll warrant Death come soon enough a Will. Pat. Daft Gowk! leave off that silly whindging Way; Seem careless, there’s my Hand ye’ll win the Day. Hear how I serv’d my Lass I love as well 105 As ye do Jenny, and with Heart as leel: Last Morning I was gay and early out, Upon a Dike I lean’d glowring about, I saw my Meg come linkan o’er the Lee; I saw my Meg, but Meggy saw na me: 110 For yet the Sun was wading thro’ the Mist, And she was closs upon me ere she wist; Her Coats were kiltit, and did sweetly shaw Her straight bare Legs that whiter were than Snaw; Her Cokernony snooded up fou sleek, 115 Her Haffet-Locks hang waving on her Cheek; Her Cheek sae ruddy, and her Een sae clear; And O! her Mouth’s like ony hinny Pear. Neat, neat she was, in Bustine Waste-coat clean, As she came skiffing o’er the dewy Green. 120 Blythsome, I cry’d, my bonny Meg, come here, I ferly wherefore ye’re sae soon asteer; But I can guess, ye’re gawn to gather Dew: She scour’d awa, and said, What’s that to you? Then fare ye well, Meg-Dorts, and e’en’s ye like, 125 I careless cry’d, and lap in o’er the Dike. I trow, when that she saw, within a Crack, She came with a right thievless Errand back; Misca’d me first, — then bade me hound my Dog To wear up three waff Ews stray’d on the Bog. 130 I leugh, and sae did she; then with great Haste I clasp’d my Arms about her Neck and Waste, About her yielding Waste, and took a Fouth Of sweetest Kisses frae her glowing Mouth. While hard and fast I held her in my Grips, 135 My very Saul cam lowping to my Lips. Sair, sair she flet wi’ me ’tween ilka Smack; But well I kent she meant nae as she spake. Dear Roger, when your Jo puts on her Gloom, Do ye sae too, and never fash your Thumb. 140 Seem to forsake her, soon she’ll change her Mood; 382

The Gentle Shepherd Gae woo anither, and she’ll gang clean wood. Rog. Kind Patie, now fair fa’ your honest Heart, Ye’re ay sae cadgy, and have sic an Art To hearten ane: For now as clean’s a Leek, 145 Ye’ve cherish’d me since ye began to speak. Sae for your Pains I’ll make you a Propine, My Mother (rest her Saul) she made it fine, A Tartan Plaid, spun of good Hawslock Woo, Scarlet and green the Sets, the Borders blew, 150 With Spraings like Gowd and Siller, cross’d with black; I never had it yet upon my Back. Well are ye wordy o’t, wha have sae kind Red up my revel’d Doubts, and clear’d my Mind. Pat. Well hald ye there; — and since ye’ve frankly made 155 A Present to me of your braw new Plaid, My Flute’s be your’s, and she too that’s sae nice Shall come a will, gif ye’ll tak my Advice. Rog. As ye advise, I’ll promise to observ’t; But ye maun keep the Flute, ye best deserv’t. 160 Now tak it out, and gie’s a bonny Spring; For I’m in tift to hear you play and sing. Pat. But first we’ll take a turn up to the Height, And see gif all our Flocks be feeding right. Be that time Bannocks, and a Shave of Cheese, 165 Will make a Breakfast that a Laird might please; Might please the daintiest Gabs, were they sae wise, To season Meat with Health instead of Spice. When we have tane the Grace-drink at this Well, I’ll whistle fine, and sing t’ye like my sell.30 170 Exeunt.

Act I. Scene II. A flowrie Howm between twa verdent Braes, Where Lasses use to wash and spread their Claiths, A trotting Burnie wimpling thro’ the Ground, Its Channel Peebles, shining, smooth and round; Here view twa barefoot Beauties clean and clear; First please your Eye, next gratify your Ear, While Jenny what she wishes discommends, And Meg with better Sense true Love defends.



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PEGGY and JENNY.

Jen. Come, Meg, let’s fa’ to wark upon this Green, The shining Day will bleech our Linen clean;

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N. B. This first Scene is the only Piece in this Volume that was printed in the first. Having carried the Pastoral the length of five Acts at the Desire of some Persons of Distinction, I was obliged to reprint this preluding Scene with the rest.

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Poems The Water’s clear, the Lift unclouded blew, Will make them like a Lilly wet with Dew. Peg. Go farer up the Burn to Habby’s How, Where a’ the Sweets of Spring and Summer grow; Between twa Birks, out o’er a little Lin 185 The Water fa’s, and makes a singand Din; A Pool breast-deep beneath, as clear as Glass, Kisses with easy Whirles the bordring Grass: We’ll end our Washing while the Morning’s cool, And when the Day grow’s het, we’ll to the Pool, 190 There wash our sells. — ’tis healthfou now in May, And sweetly cauler on sae warm a Day. Jen. Daft Lassie, when we’re naked, what’ll ye say, Gif our twa Herds come brattling down the Brae, And see us sae? That jeering Fallow Pate 195 Wad taunting say, Haith, Lasses, ye’re no blate. Peg. We’re far frae ony Road, and out of Sight; The Lads they’re feeding far beyont the Height: But tell me now, dear Jenny, (we’re our lane) What gars ye plague your Wooer with Disdain? 200 The Nibours a’ tent this as well as I, That Roger loes you, yet ye carna by. What ails ye at him? Trowth, between us twa, He’s wordy you the best Day e’er ye saw. Jen. I dinna like him, Peggy; there’s an End: 205 A Herd mair sheepish yet I never kend. He kaims his Hair indeed, and gaes right snug, With Ribbon-knots at his blew Bonnet-lug; Whilk pensily he wears a thought a-jee, And spreads his Garters dic’d beneath his Knee. 210 He falds his Owrlay down his Breast with Care; And few gang trigger to the Kirk or Fair. For a’ that, he can neither sing nor say, Except, How d’ye — or, There’s a bonny Day. Peg. Ye dash the Lad with constant slighting Pride; 215 Hatred for Love is unco sair to bide: But ye’ll repent ye, if his Love grow cauld. What like’s a dorty Maiden when she’s auld? Like dawted We’an that tarrows at its Meat, That for some feckless Whim will orp and greet. 220 The lave laugh at it, till the Dinner’s past, And syne the Fool thing is oblig’d to fast, Or scart anither’s Leavings at the last. Fy, Jenny, think, and dinna sit your Time. Jen. I never thought a single Life a Crime. 225 Peg. Nor I — but Love in Whispers lets us ken, That Men were made for us, and we for Men. Jen. If Roger is my Jo, he kens himsell; For sic a Tale I never heard him tell. He glowrs and sighs, and I can guess the Cause, 230 384

The Gentle Shepherd But wha’s oblig’d to spell his Hums and Haws? When e’er he likes to tell his Mind mair plain, I’se tell him frankly ne’er to do’t again. They’re Fools that Slavery like, and may be free: The Cheils may a’ knit up themsells for me. 235 Peg. Be doing your Ways; for me I have a mind To be as yielding as my Patie’s kind. Jen. Heh! Lass, How can ye loo that Rattle-scull, A very Deel that ay maun hae his Will? We’ll soon here tell what a poor fighting Life 240 You twa will lead, sae soon’s ye’re Man and Wife. Peg. I’ll rin the Risk, nor have I ony Fear, But rather think ilk langsome Day a Year, Till I with Pleasure mount my Bridal-bed, Where on my Patie’s Breast I’ll lean my Head. 245 There we may kiss as lang as Kissing’s good, And what we do, there’s nane dare call it rude. He’s get his Will: Why no? ’Tis good my Part To give him that; and he’ll give me his Heart. Jen. He may indeed, for ten or fifteen Days, 250 Mak meikle o’ye, with an unco Fraise; And daut ye baith afore Fowk and your lane: But soon as his Newfangleness is gane, He’ll look upon you as his Tether-stake, And think he’s tint his Freedom for your Sake. 255 Instead then of lang Days of sweet Delite, Ae Day be dumb, and a’ the neist he’ll flite: And may be, in his Barlickhoods ne’er stick To lend his loving Wife a loundering Lick. Peg. Sic course-spun Thoughts as thae want Pith to move 260 My settl’d Mind, I’m o’er far gane in Love. Patie to me is dearer than my Breath; But want of him I dread nae other Skaith. There’s nane of a’ the Herds that tread the Green Has sic a Smile, or sic twa glancing Een. 265 And then he speaks with sic a taking Art, His Words they thirle like Musick thro’ my Heart. How blythly can he sport, and gently rave, And jest at feckless Fears that fright the lave? Ilk Day that he’s alane upon the Hill, 270 He reads fell Books that teach him meikle Skill. He is — But what need I say that or this? I’d spend a Month to tell you what he is! In a’ he says or does, there’s sic a Gait, The rest seem Coofs compar’d with my dear Pate. 275 His better Sense will lang his Love secure: Ill Nature heffs in Sauls are weak and poor. Jen. Hey! bonny Lass of Branksome, or’t be lang, Your witty Pate will put you in a Sang. O! ’tis a pleasant thing to be a Bride; 280 385

Poems Syne whindging Getts about your Ingle-side, Yelping for this or that with fasheous Din, To mak them Brats then ye maun toil and spin. Ae We’an fa’s sick, ane scads its sell we Broe, Ane breaks his Shin, anither tynes his Shoe; The Deil gaes o’er John Wobster, Hame grows Hell, When Pate misca’s ye war than Tongue can tell. Peg. Yes, ’tis a hartsome thing to be a Wife, When round the Ingle-edge young Sprouts are rife. Gif I’m sae happy, I shall have Delight, To hear their little Plaints, and keep them right. Wow! Jenny, can there greater Pleasure be, Than see sic wee Tots toolying at your Knee; When a’ they ettle at — their greatest Wish, Is to be made of, and obtain a Kiss? Can there be Toil in tenting Day and Night, The like of them, when Love makes Care Delight? Jen. But Poortith, Peggy, is the warst of a’, Gif o’er your Heads ill Chance shou’d Beggary draw: But little Love, or canty Chear can come, Frae duddy Doublets, and a Pantry toom. Your Nowt may die — the Spate may bear away Frae aff the Howms your dainty Rucks of Hay. — The thick blawn Wreaths of Snaw, or blashy Thows, May smoor your Wathers, and may rot your Ews. A Dyvor buys your Butter, Woo and Cheese, But, or the Day of Payment, breaks and flees. With glooman Brow the Laird seeks in his Rent: ’Tis no to gi’e; your Merchant’s to the bent; His Honour mauna want, he poinds your Gear: Syne, driven frae House and Hald, where will ye steer? Dear Meg, be wise, and live a single Life; Troth ’tis nae Mows to be a marry’d Wife. Peg. May sic ill Luck befa’ that silly She, Wha has sic Fears; for that was never me. Let Fowk bode well, and strive to do their best; Nae mair’s requir’d, let Heaven make out the rest. I’ve heard my honest Uncle aften say, That Lads shou’d a’ for Wives that’s vertuous pray: For the maist thrifty Man could never get A well stor’d Room, unless his Wife wad let: Wherefore nocht shall be wanting on my Part, To gather Wealth to raise my Shepherd’s Heart. What e’er he wins, I’ll guide with canny Care, And win the Vogue, at Market, Tron, or Fair, For halesome, clean, cheap and sufficient Ware. A Flock of Lambs, Cheese, Butter, and some Woo, Shall first be sald, to pay the Laird his Due; Syne a’ behind’s our ain. — Thus, without Fear, With Love and Rowth we thro’ the Warld will steer:

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The Gentle Shepherd And when my Pate in Bairns and Gear grows rife, He’ll bless the Day he gat me for his Wife. Jen. But what if some young Giglit on the Green, With dimpled Cheeks, and twa bewitching Een, Should gar your Patie think his haff-worn Meg, 335 And her kend Kisses, hardly worth a Feg? Peg. Naw mair of that; — dear Jenny, to be free, There’s some Men constanter in Love than we: Nor is the Ferly great, when Nature kind Has blest them with Solidity of Mind. 340 They’ll reason calmly, and with Kindness smile, When our short Passions wad our Peace beguile. Sae whenso’er they slight their Maiks at hame, ’Tis ten to ane the Wives are maist to blame. Then I’ll employ with Pleasure a’ my Art 345 To keep him chearfu’, and secure his Heart. At Even, when he comes weary frae the Hill, I’ll have a’ Things made ready to his Will. In Winter, when he toils thro’ Wind and Rain, A bleezing Ingle, and a clean Hearth-stane. 350 And soon as he flings by his Plaid and Staff, The seething Pot’s be ready to tak aff. Clean Hagabag I’ll spread upon his Board, And serve him with the best we can afford. Good Humour and white Bigonets shall be 355 Guards to my Face, to keep his Love for me. Jen. A Dish of married Love right soon grows cauld, And dosens down to nane, as Fowk grow auld. Peg. But we’ll grow auld togither, and ne’er find The Loss of Youth, when Love grows on the Mind. 360 Bairns, and their Bairns, make sure a firmer Ty, Than ought in Love the like of us can spy. See yon twa Elms that grow up Side by Side, Suppose them, some Years syne, Bridegroom and Bride; Nearer and nearer ilka Year they’ve prest, 365 Till wide their spreading Branches are increast, And in their Mixture now are fully blest. This shields the other frae the Eastlin Blast, That in Return defends it frae the West. Sic as stand single, — a State sae lik’d by you! 370 Beneath ilk Storm, frae ev’ry Airth, maun bow. Jen. I’ve done, — I yield, dear Lassie, I maun yield, Your better Sense has fairly won the Field, With the Assistance of a little Fae Lyes darn’d within my Breast this mony a Day. 375 Peg. Alake! poor Prisoner! Jenny, that’s no fair, That ye’ll no let the wee thing tak the Air: Haste, let him out, we’ll tent as well’s we can, Gif he be Bauldy’s or poor Roger’s Man. Jen. Anither time’s as good, — for see the Sun 380

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Poems Is right far up, and we’re no yet begun To freath the Graith; — If canker’d Madge our Aunt Come up the Burn, she’ll gie’s a wicked Rant: But when we’ve done, I’ll tell ye a’ my Mind; For this seems true, — nae Lass can be unkind. Exeunt.

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End of the First ACT.

Act II. Scene I. A snug Thack-house, before the Door a Green; Hens on the Midding, Ducks in Dubs are seen. On this Side stands a Barn, on that a Byre; A Peat-stack joins, and forms a rural Square. The House is Glaud’s; — there you may see him lean, And to his Divot-Seat invite his Frien’.



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GLAUD and SYMON.

Glaud. Good-morrow, Nibour Symon, — come sit down, And gie’s your Cracks. — What’s a’ the News in Town? They tell me ye was in the ither Day, And sald your Crummock and her bassend Quey. 395 I’ll warrant ye’ve cost a Pund of Cut and Dry; Lug out your Box, and gie’s a Pipe to try. Sym. With a’ my Heart; — and tent me now, auld Boy, I’ve gather’d News will kittle your Mind with Joy. I cou’dna rest till I came o’er the Burn, 400 To tell ye things have taken sic a Turn, Will gar our vile Oppressors stend like Flaes, And skulk in Hidlings on the Hether Braes. Glaud. Fy, blaw! Ah Symie, ratling Chiels ne’er stand To cleck and spread the grossest Lies aff hand, 405 Whilk soon flies round like Will-fire far and near: But loose your Poke, be’t true or fause, let’s hear. Sym. Seeing’s believing, Glaud, and I have seen Hab, that abroad has with our Master been; Our brave good Master, wha right wisely fled, 410 And left a fair Estate, to save his Head: Because ye ken fou well he bravely chose To stand his Liege’s Friend with Great Montrose. Now Cromwell’s gane to Nick; and ane ca’d Monk Has plaid the Rumple a right slee Begunk, 415 Restor’d King CHARLES, and ilka thing’s in tune: And Habby says, We’ll see Sir William soon. Glaud. That makes me blyth indeed; — but dinna flaw; Tell o’er your News again! and swear till’t a’; And saw ye Hab! And what did Halbert say? 420 They have been e’en a dreary Time away. 388

The Gentle Shepherd Now GOD be thanked that our Laird’s come hame, And his Estate, say, can he eithly claim? Sym. They that hag-raid us till our Guts did grane, Like greedy Bairs, dare nae mair do’t again; 425 And good Sir William sall enjoy his ain. Glaud. And may he lang; for never did he stent Us in our thriving, with a racket Rent: Nor grumbl’d, if ane grew rich; or shor’d to raise Our Mailens, when we pat on Sunday’s Claiths. 430 Sym. Nor wad he lang, with senseless saucy Air, Allow our lyart Noddles to be bare. Put on your Bonnet, Symon; — Tak a Seat. — How’s all at hame? — How’s Elspa? How does Kate? How sells black Cattle? — What gie’s Woo this Year? — 435 And sic like kindly Questions wad he speer. Glaud. Then wad he gar his Butler bring bedeen The nappy Bottle ben, and Glasses clean, Whilk in our Breast rais’d sic a blythsome Flame, As gart me mony a time gae dancing hame. 440 My Heart’s e’en rais’d! Dear Nibour, will ye stay, And tak your Dinner here with me the Day? We’ll send for Elspith too — and upo’ sight, I’ll whistle Pate and Roger frae the Height: I’ll yoke my Sled, and send to the neist Town, 445 And bring a Draught of Ale baith stout and brown, And gar our Cottars a’, Man, Wife and We’an, Drink till they tine the Gate to stand their lane. Sym. I wad na bauk my Friend his blyth Design, Gif that it hadna first of a’ been mine: 450 For heer-yestreen I brew’d a Bow of Maut, Yestreen I slew twa Wathers prime and fat; A Firlet of good Cakes my Elspa beuk, And a large Ham hings reesting in the Nook: I saw my sell, or I came o’er the Loan, 455 Our meikle Pot that scads the Whey put on, A Mutton-bouk to boil: — And ane we’ll roast; And on the Haggies Elspa spares nae Cost; Sma’ are they shorn, and she can mix fu’ nice The gusty Ingans with a Curn of Spice: 460 Fat are the Puddings, — Heads and Feet well sung. And we’ve invited Nibours auld and young, To pass this Afternoon with Glee and Game, And drink our Master’s Health and Welcome-hame. Ye mauna then refuse to join the rest, 465 Since ye’re my nearest Friend that I like best. Bring wi’ye all your Family, and then, When e’er you please, I’ll rant wi’ you again. Glaud. Spoke like ye’r sell, Auld-birky, never fear But at your Banquet I shall first appear. 470 Faith we shall bend the Bicker, and look bauld,

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Poems Till we forget that we are fail’d or auld. Auld, said I! troth I’m younger be a Score, With your good News, than what I was before. I’ll dance or Een! Hey! Madge, come forth: D’ye hear?

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Enter MADGE.

Mad. The Man’s gane gyte! Dear Symon, welcome here. What wad ye, Glaud, with a’ this Haste and Din? Ye never let a Body sit to spin. Glaud. Spin! snuff — Gae break your Wheel, and burn your Tow, And set the meiklest Peat-stack in a Low. 480 Syne dance about the Bane-fire till ye die, Since now again we’ll soon Sir William see. Mad. Blyth News indeed! And wha was tald you o’t? Glaud. What’s that to you? — Gae get my Sunday’s Coat; Wale out the whitest of my bobbit Bands, 485 My white-skin Hose, and Mittons for my Hands; Then frae their Washing cry the Bairns in haste, And make your sells as trig, Head, Feet and Waist, As ye were a’ to get young Lads or E’en; For we’re gaun o’er to dine with Sym bedeen. 490 Sym. Do, honest Madge: — And, Glaud, I’ll o’er the gate, And see that a’ be done as I wad hae’t. Exeunt.

Act II. Scene II. The open Field. — A Cottage in a Glen, An auld Wife spinning at the sunny End. — At a small Distance, by a blasted Tree, With falded Arms, and haff rais’d Look, ye see

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BAULDY his lane. Baul. What’s this! — I canna bear’t! ’tis war than Hell, To be sae burnt with Love, yet darna tell! O Peggy, sweeter than the dawning Day, Sweeter than gowny Glens, or new mawn Hay; Blyther than Lambs that frisk out o’er the Knows, Straighter than ought that in the Forest grows: Her Een the clearest Blob of Dew outshines; The Lilly in her Breast its Beauty tines. Her Legs, her Arms, her Cheeks, her Mouth, her Een, Will be my dead, that will be shortly seen! For Pate loes her, — waes me! and she loes Pate; And I with Neps, by some unlucky Fate, Made a daft Vow: — O but ane be a Beast, That makes rash Aiths till he’s afore the Priest! 390

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The Gentle Shepherd I dare na speak my Mind, else a’ the three, But doubt, wad prove ilk ane my Enemy. ’Tis sair to thole; — I’ll try some Witchcraft Art, To break with ane, and win the other’s Heart. Here Mausy lives, a Witch, that for sma’ Price, Can cast her Cantraips, and give me Advice. She can o’ercast the Night, and cloud the Moon, And mak the Deils obedient to her Crune. At Midnight Hours, o’er the Kirk-yards she raves, And howks unchristen’d We’ans out of their Graves; Boils up their Livers in a Warlock’s Pow, Rins withershins about the Hemlock Low; And seven Times does her Prayers backwards pray, Till Plotcock comes with Lumps of Lapland Clay, Mixt with the Venom of black Taids and Snakes; Of this unsonsy Pictures aft she makes Of ony ane she hates — and gars expire With slaw and racking Pains afore a Fire; Stuck fu’ of Prins, the devilish Pictures melt, The Pain, by Fowk they represent, is felt. And yonder’s Mause: Ay, ay, she kens fu’ well, When ane like me comes rinning to the Deil. She and her Cat sit beeking in her Yard, To speak my Errand, faith amaist I’m fear’d: But I maun do’t, tho’ I should never thrive; They gallop fast that Deils and Lasses drive. Exit.

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Act II. Scene III. A Green Kail-yard, a little Fount, Where Water popilan springs; There sits a Wife with Wrinkle-Front, And yet she spins and sings.

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Mause sings. “Peggy, now the King’s come, “Peggy, now the King’s come, “Thou may dance, and I shall sing, “Peggy, since the King’s come. “Nae mair the Hawkies shalt thou milk, “But change thy Plaiding-Coat for Silk, “And be a Lady of that Ilk, “Now, Peggy, since the King’s come.

Enter Bauldy. Baul. How does auld honest Lucky of the Glen? 391

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Poems Ye look baith hale and fere at threescore ten. 550 Maus. E’en twining out a Threed with little Din, And beeking my cauld Limbs afore the Sun. What brings my Bairn this Gate sae air at Morn? Is there nae Muck to lead? — to thresh nae Corn? Baul. Enough of baith: — But something that requires 555 Your helping Hand, employs now all my Cares. Maus. My helping Hand, alake! what can I do, That underneath baith Eild and Poortith bow? Baul. Ay, but ye’re wise, and wiser far than we, Or maist Part of the Parish tells a Lie. 560 Maus. Of what kind Wisdom think ye I’m possest, That lifts my Character aboon the rest? Baul. The Word that gangs, how ye’re sae wise and fell, Ye’ll may be take it ill gif I shou’d tell. Maus. What Fowk says of me, Bauldy, let me hear; 565 Keep nathing up, ye nathing have to fear. Baul. Well, since ye bid me, I shall tell ye a’, That ilk ane talks about you, but a Flaw. When last the Wind made Glaud a roofless Barn; When last the Burn bore down my Mither’s Yarn; 570 When Brawny Elf-shot never mair came hame; When Tibby kirn’d, and there nae Butter came; When Bessy Freetock’s chuffy-cheeked We’an To a Fairy turn’d, and cou’d na stand its lane; When Watie wander’d ae Night thro’ the Shaw, 575 And tint himsell amaist amang the Snaw; When Mungo’s Mear stood still, and swat with Fright, When he brought East the Howdy under Night; When Bawsy shot to dead upon the Green, And Sara tint a Snood was nae mair seen: 580 You, Lucky, gat the Wyte of a’ fell out, And ilka ane here dreads you round about. And sae they may that mint to do ye Skaith: For me to wrang ye, I’ll be very laith; But when I neist make Grots, I’ll strive to please 585 You with a Firlot of them mixt with Pease. Maus. I thank ye, Lad; — now tell me your Demand, And, if I can, I’ll lend my helping Hand. Baul. Then, I like Peggy, — Neps is fond of me; — Peggy likes Pate; — and Patie’s bauld and slee, 590 And loes sweet Meg. — But Neps I downa see — Cou’d ye turn Patie’s Love to Neps, and than Peggy’s to me, — I’d be the happiest Man. Maus. I’ll try my Art to gar the Bowls row right; Sae gang your ways, and come again at Night: 595 ’Gainst that time I’ll some simple things prepare, Worth all your Pease and Grots; tak ye nae Care. Baul. Well, Mause, I’ll come, gif I the Road can find: But if ye raise the Deil he’ll raise the Wind;

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The Gentle Shepherd Syne Rain and Thunder may be, when ’tis late, Will make the Night sae rough, I’ll tine the Gate. We’re a’ to rant in Symie’s at a Feast, O! will ye come like Badrans, for a Jest; And there ye can our different Haviours spy: There’s nane shall ken o’t there but you and I. Maus. ’Tis like I may, — but let na on what’s past ’Tween you and me, else fear a kittle Cast. Baul. If I ought of your Secrets e’er advance, May ye ride on me ilka Night to France.

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Exit Bauldy. Mause her lane. Hard Luck, alake! when Poverty and Eild, 610 Weeds out of Fashion, and a lanely Beild, With a sma’ Cast of Wiles, should in a twitch, Gi’e ane the hatefu’ Name a wrinkled Witch. This Fool imagines, as do mony sic, That I’m a Wretch in Compact with Auld Nick; 615 Because by Education I was taught To speak and act aboon their common Thought. Their gross Mistake shall quickly now appear; Soon shall they ken what brought, what keeps me here; Nane kens but me, — and if the Morn were come, 620 I’ll tell them Tales will gar them a’ sing dumb. Exit.

Act II. Scene IV. Behind a Tree upon the Plain, PATE and his PEGGY meet; In Love, without a vicious Stain, The bony Lass and chearfu’ Swain Change Vows and Kisses sweet.



625

PATIE and PEGGY.

Peg. O Patie, let me gang, I mauna stay, We’re baith cry’d hame, and Jenny she’s away. Pat. I’m laith to part sae soon; now we’re alane, And Roger he’s awa with Jenny gane: 630 They’re as content, for ought I hear or see, To be alane themsells, I judge, as we. Here, where Primroses thickest paint the Green, Hard by this little Burnie let us lean. Hark how the Lavrocks chant aboon our Heads, 635 How saft the Westlin Winds sough thro’ the Reeds. Peg. The scented Meadows, — Birds, — and healthy Breeze, 393

Poems For ought I ken, may mair than Peggy please. Pat. Ye wrang me sair, to doubt my being kind; In speaking sae, ye ca’ me dull and blind. 640 Gif I could fancy ought’s sae sweet or fair As my dear Meg, or worthy of my Care. Thy Breath is sweeter than the sweetest Brier, Thy Cheek and Breast the finest Flowers appear. Thy Words excel the maist delightfu’ Notes, 645 That warble through the Merl or Mavis’ Throats. With thee I tent nae Flowers that busk the Field, Or ripest Berries that our Mountains yield. The sweetest Fruits that hing upon the Tree, Are far inferior to a Kiss of thee. 650 Peg. But Patrick, for some wicked End, may fleech, And Lambs should tremble when the Foxes preach. I dare na stay — ye Joker, let me gang, Anither Lass may gar ye change your Sang; Your Thoughts may flit, and I may thole the Wrang. 655 Pat. Sooner a Mother shall her Fondness drap, And wrang the Bairn sits smiling on her Lap; The Sun shall change, the Moon to change shall cease, The Gaits to clim, — the Sheep to yield the Fleece, Ere ought by me be either said or done, 660 Shall Skaith our Love; I swear by all aboon. Peg. Then keep your Aith:— But mony Lads will swear, And be mansworn to twa in haff a Year. Now I believe ye like me wonder well; But if a fairer Face your Heart shou’d steal, 665 Your Meg forsaken, bootless might relate, How she was dauted anes by faithless Pate. Pat. I’m sure I canna change, ye needna fear; Tho’ we’re but young, I’ve loo’d you mony a Year. I mind it well, when thou coud’st hardly gang, 670 Or lisp out Words, I choos’d ye frae the thrang Of a’ the Bairns, and led thee by the Hand, Aft to the Tansy-know, or Rashy-strand. Thou smiling by my Side, — I took Delite To pou the Rashes green, with Roots sae white, 675 Of which, as well as my young Fancy cou’d, For thee I plet the flowry Belt and Snood. Peg. When first thou gade with Shepherds to the Hill, And I to milk the Ews first try’d my Skill; To bear a Leglen was nae toil to me, 680 When at the Bught at E’en I met with thee. Pat. When Corns grew yellow, and the Hether-bells, Bloom’d bonny on the Moor and rising Fells, Nae Birns, or Briers, or Whins e’er troubled me, Gif I cou’d find blae Berries ripe for thee. 685 Peg. When thou didst wrestle, run, or putt the Stane, And wan the Day, my Heart was flightering fain:

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The Gentle Shepherd At all these Sports thou still gave Joy to me; For nane can wrestle, run, or putt with thee. Pat. Jenny sings saft the Broom of Cowden-knows, 690 And Rosie lilts the Milking of the Ews; There’s nane like Nansie, Jenny Nettles sings, At Turns in Maggy Lauder, Marion dings: But when my Peggy sings, with sweeter Skill, The Boat-man, or the Lass of Patie’s Mill; 695 It is a thousand Times mair sweet to me: Tho’ they sing well, they canna sing like thee. Peg. How eith can Lasses trow what they desire! And roos’d by them we love, blaws up that Fire: But wha loves best, let Time and Carriage try; 700 Be constant, and my Love shall Time defy. Be still as now, and a’ my Care shall be, How to contrive what pleasant is for thee. Pat. Wert thou a giglit Gawky like the lave, That little better than our Nowt behave; 705 At nought they’ll ferly; — senseless Tales believe; Be blyth for silly Heghts, for Trifles grieve: — Sic ne’er cou’d win my Heart, that kenna how, Either to keep a Prize, or yet prove true. But thou, in better Sense, without a Flaw, 710 As in thy Beauty far excells them a’, Continue kind; and a’ my care shall be, How to contrive what pleasing is for thee. Peg. Agreed; — but harken, yon’s auld Aunty’s Cry; I ken they’ll wonder what can make us stay. 715 Pat. And let them ferly. — Now, a kindly Kiss, Or fivescore good anes wad not be amiss; And syne we’ll sing the Sang with tunefu’ Glee, That I made up last Owk on you and me. Peg. Sing first, syne claim your Hire. —— —— 720 Pat. —— —— Well I agree. Patie sings. By the delicious Warmness of thy Mouth, And rowing Eyes that smiling tell the Truth, I guess, my Lassie, that as well as I, You’re made for Love; and why should ye deny?

725

Peggy sings. But ken ye, Lad, gif we confess o’er soon, Ye think us cheap, and syne the Woing’s done? The Maiden that o’er quickly tines her Power, Like unripe Fruit, will taste but hard and sowr. Patie sings. But gin they hing o’er lang upon the Tree, Their Sweetness they may tine; and sae may ye. 395

730

Poems Red cheeked you completely ripe appear; And I have thol’d and woo’d a lang haff year. Peggy singing, falls into Patie’s Arms. Then dinna pu’ me, gently thus I fa’ Into my Patie’s Arms, for good and a’. But stint your Wishes to this kind Embrace; And mint nae farther till we’ve got the Grace. Patie with his left Hand about her Waste. O Charming Armfu’, hence ye Cares away, I’ll kiss my Treasure a’ the live lang Day; All Night I’ll dream my Kisses o’er again, Till that Day come that ye’ll be a’ my ain.



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Sung by Both.

Sun, gallop down the Westlin Skies, Gang soon to bed, and quickly rise; O lash your Steeds, post Time away, And haste about our Bridal Day: And if ye’re wearied, honest Light, Sleep, gin ye like, a Week that Night.

745

End of the Second ACT. Act III. Scene I. Now turn your Eyes beyond yon spreading Lime, And tent a Man whase Beard seems bleech’d with Time; An Elwand fills his Hand, his Habit mean: Nae Doubt ye’ll think he has a Pedlar been. But whisht! it is the Knight in Masquerade, That comes hid in his Cloud to see his Lad. Observe how pleas’d the loyal Sufferer moves Thro’ his auld Av’news, anes delightfu’ Groves.

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Sir WILLIAM solus. The Gentleman thus hid in low Disguise, I’ll for a Space unknown delight mine Eyes, With a full View of every fertile Plain, Which once I lost, — which now are mine again. Yet ’midst my Joys, some Prospects Pain renew, Whilst I my once fair Seat in Ruins view. Yonder, ah me! it desolately stands, Without a Roof; the Gates faln from their Bands; The Casements all broke down; no Chimney left; The naked Walls of Tap’stry all bereft: My Stables and Pavilions, broken Walls! 396

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The Gentle Shepherd That with each rainy Blast decaying falls: My Gardens, once adorn’d the most compleat, With all that Nature, all that Art makes sweet; Where, round the figur’d Green, and Peeble Walks, 770 The dewy Flowrs hung nodding on their Stalks: But, overgrown with Nettles, Docks and Brier, No Jaccacinths or Eglintines appear. How do those ample Walls to Ruin yield, Where Peach and Nect’rine Branches found a Beild, 775 And bask’d in Rays, which early did produce Fruit fair to view, delightfu’ in the Use! All round in Gaps, the most in Rubbish ly, And from what stands the wither’d Branches fly. These soon shall be repair’d: — And now my Joy 780 Forbids all Grief, — when I’m to see my Boy, My only Prop, and Object of my Care, Since Heaven too soon call’d hame his Mother fair, Him, ere the Rays of Reason clear’d his Thought, I secretly to faithful Symon brought, 785 And charg’d him strictly to conceal his Birth, ’Till we should see what changing Times brought forth. Hid from himself, he starts up by the Dawn, And ranges careless o’er the Height and Lawn, After his fleecy Charge, serenly gay, 790 With other Shepherds whistling o’er the Day. Thrice happy Life! that’s from Ambition free; Remov’d from Crowns and Courts, how chearfully A quiet contented Mortal spends his Time In hearty Health, his Soul unstain’d with Crime. 795 Now tow’rds good Symon’s House I’ll bend my Way, And see what makes yon Gamboling to Day, All on the Green, in a fair wanton Ring, My youthful Tenants gayly dance and sing. Exit. Act III. Scene II. ’Tis Symon’s House, please to step in, And vissy’t round and round; There’s nought superfluous to give Pain, Or costly to be found. Yet all is clean: A clear Peat-Ingle Glances amidst the Floor; The Green-Horn Spoons, Beech-Luggies mingle, On Skelfs foregainst the Door. While the young Brood sport on the Green, The auld anes think it best, With the Brown Cow to clear their Een, Snuff, crack, and take their Rest. 397

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Poems SYMON, GLAUD, and ELSPA. Glaud. We anes were young our sells — I like to see The Bairns bob round with other merrilie. Troth, Symon, Patie’s grown a strapan Lad, And better Looks than his I never bade. Amang our Lads, he bears the Gree awa’, And tells his Tale the cleverest of them a’. Els. Poor Man! — he’s a great Comfort to us baith: GOD mak him good, and hide him ay frae Skaith. He is a Bairn, I’ll say’t, well worth our Care, That ga’e us ne’er Vexation late or Air. Glaud. I trow, Goodwife, if I be not mistane, He seems to be with Peggy’s Beauty tane, And troth, my Niece is a right dainty We’an, As ye well ken: A bonnier needna be, Nor better, — be’t she were nae Kin to me. Sym. Ha! Glaud, I doubt that ne’er will be a Match; My Patie’s wild, and will be ill to catch: And or he were, for Reasons I’ll no tell, I’d rather be mixt with the Mools my sell. Glaud. What Reason can ye have? There’s nane, I’m sure, Unless ye may cast up that she’s but poor: But gif the Lassie marry to my Mind, I’ll be to her as my ain Jenny kind. Fourscore of breeding Ews of my ain Birn, Five Ky that at ae Milking fills a Kirn, I’ll gi’e to Peggy that Day she’s a Bride; By and attour, if my good Luck abide, Ten Lambs at Spaining-Time, as lang’s I live, And twa Quey Cawfs I’ll yearly to them give. Els. Ye offer fair, kind Glaud; but dinna speer What may be is not fit ye yet should hear Sym. Or this Day eight days likely he shall learn, That our Denial disna slight his Bairn. Glaud. Well, nae mair o’t, — come, gie’s the other Bend; We’ll drink their Healths, whatever Way it end.

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Their Healths gae round.

Sym. But will ye tell me, Glaud, — by some ’tis said, Your Niece is but a Fundling that was laid Down at your Hallon-side, ae Morn in May, Right clean row’d up, and bedded on dry Hay. Glaud. That clatteran Madge, my Titty, tells sic Flaws, When e’er our Meg her cankart Humour gaws. Enter Jenny. Jen. O Father! there’s an auld Man on the Green, The fellest Fortune-teller e’er was seen:

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The Gentle Shepherd He tents our Loofs, and syne whops out a Book, Turns o’er the Leaves, and gie’s our Brows a Look; Syne tells the oddest Tales that e’er ye heard, His Head is gray, and lang and gray his Beard. Sym. Gae bring him in; we’ll hear what he can say: Nane shall gang hungry by my House to Day. Exit Jenny.

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But for his telling Fortunes, troth I fear, He kens nae mair of that than my gray Mare. Glaud. Spae-men! the Truth of a’ their Saws I doubt; For greater Liars never ran there out. Returns Jenny, bringing in Sir William; with them Patie. Sym. Ye’re welcome, honest Carle; — here take a Seat. S. Will. I give ye Thanks, Goodman; I’se no be blate.

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Glaud drinks.

Come t’ye Friend: — How far came ye the Day? S. Will. I pledge ye, Nibour; — E’en but little Way: Rousted with Eild, a wee Piece Gate seems lang; Twa Miles or three’s the maist that I dow gang. 870 Sym. Ye’re welcome here to stay all Night with me, And take sic Bed and Board as we can gi’ ye. S. Will. That’s kind unsought. – Well, gin ye have a Bairn That ye like well, and wad his Fortune learn, I shall employ the farthest of my Skill, 875 To spae it faithfully, be’t good or ill.

Symon pointing to Patie.

Only that Lad; — alake! I have nae mae, Either to make me joyful now, or wae. S. Will. Young Man, let’s see your Hand; — what gars ye sneer? Pat. Because your Skill’s but little worth I fear. S. Will. Ye cut before the Point. — But, Billy, bide, I’ll wager there’s a Mouse Mark on your Side. Els. Betooch-us-to! and well I wat that’s true: Awa, awa! the Deil’s o’er grit wi’ you. Four Inch aneath his Oxter is the Mark, Scarce ever seen since he first wore a Sark. S. Will. I’ll tell ye mair, if this young Lad be spar’d But a short while, he’ll be a braw rich Laird. Elsp. A Laird! — Hear ye, Goodman! What think ye now! Sym. I dinna ken: Strange auld Man! What art thou? Fair fa’ your Heart; ’tis good to bode of Wealth; Come turn the Timmer to Laird Patie’s Health. 399

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Poems

Paties’s Health gaes round.

Pat. A Laird of twa good Whistles, and a Kent, Twa Curs, my trusty Tenants, on the Bent, Is all my great Estate — and like to be: Sae, cunning Carle, ne’er break your Jokes on me. Sym. Whisht, Patie, — let the Man look o’er your Hand, Aftimes as broken a Ship has come to Land.

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Sir William looks a little at Patie’s Hand, then counterfeits falling into a Trance, while they endeavour to lay him right. Elsp. Preserve’s! the Man’s a Warlock, or possest With some nae good — or second Sight, at least: 900 Where is he now? ——— ——— ——— Glaud. ——— — He’s seeing a’ that’s done In ilka Place, beneath or yont the Moon. Elsp. These second sighted Fowk, his Peace be here! See things far aff, and things to come, as clear 905 As I can see my Thumb — Wow, can he tell (Speer at him, soon as he comes to himsell) How soon we’ll see Sir William? Whisht, he heaves, And speaks out broken Words like ane that raves. Sym. He’ll soon grow better; — Elspa, hast ye, gae 910 And fill him up a Tass of Usquebae. Sir William starts up, and speaks. A Knight that for a LYON fought, Against a herd of Bears, Was to lang Toil and Trouble brought, In which some Thousands shares. But now again the LYON rares, And Joy spreads o’er the Plain: The LYON has defeat the Bears, The Knight returns again. That Knight, in a few Days, shall bring A Shepherd frae the Fauld, And shall present him to his King, A Subject true and bauld. He Mr. Patrick shall be call’d: All you that hear me now, May well believe what I have tald; For it shall happen true. Sym. Friend, may your Spaeing happen soon and weel; But, Faith, I’m redd you’ve bargain’d with the Deil, To tell some Tales that Fowks wad secret keep: Or do you get them tald you in your Sleep? 400

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The Gentle Shepherd S. Will. Howe’er I get them, never fash your Beard; Nor come I to redd Fortunes for Reward: But I’ll lay Ten to ane with ony here, That all I prophesy shall soon appear. 935 Sym. You prophesying Fowks are odd kind Men! They’re here that ken, and here that disna ken, The wimpled Meaning of your unco Tale, Whilk soon will mak a Noise o’er Moor and Dale. Glaud. ’Tis nae sma’ Sport to hear how Sym believes, 940 And takes’t for Gospel what the Spae-man gives Of flawing Fortunes, whilk he evens to Pate: But what we wish, we trow at ony Rate. S. Will. Whisht, doubtfu’ Carle; for ere the Sun Has driven twice down to the Sea, 945 What I have said ye shall see done In part, or nae mair credit me. Glaud. Well, be’t sae, Friend, I shall say nathing mair; But I’ve twa sonsy Lasses young and fair, Plump ripe for Men: I wish ye cou’d forsee 950 Sic Fortunes for them might prove Joy to me. S. Will. Nae mair thro’ Secrets can I sift, Till Darkness black the Bent: I have but anes a day that Gift; Sae rest a while content. 955 Sym. Eslpa, cast on the Claith, fetch butt some Meat, And, of your best, gar this auld Stranger eat. S. Will. Delay a while your hospitable Care; I’d rather enjoy this Evening calm and fair, Around yon ruin’d Tower, to fetch a Walk 960 With you, kind Friend, to have some private Talk. Sym. Soon as you please I’ll answer your Desire: — And, Glaud, you’ll take your Pipe beside the Fire; We’ll but gae round the Place, and soon be back, Syne sup together, and tak our Pint, and Crack. 965 Glaud. I’ll out a while, and see the young anes play. My Heart’s still light, abeit my Locks be gray. Exeunt.

Act III. Scene III.

Jenny pretends an Errand hame, Young Roger draps the rest, To whisper out his melting Flame, 970 And thow his Lassie’s Breast. Behind a Bush, well hid frae sight, they meet: See Jenny’s laughing; Roger’s like to greet. Poor Shepherd! 401

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ROGER and JENNY.

Rog. Dear Jenny, I wad speak to ye, wad ye let; And yet I ergh, ye’re ay sae scornfu’ set. Jen. And what wad Roger say, if he could speak? Am I oblig’d to guess what ye’re to seek. Rog. Yes, ye may guess right eith for what I grein, Baith by my Service, Sighs, and langing Een. And I maun out wi’t, tho’ I risk your Scorn; Ye’re never frae my Thoughts baith Ev’n and Morn. Ah! cou’d I loo ye less, I’d happy be; But happier far, cou’d ye but fancy me. Jen. And wha kens, honest Lad, but that I may; Ye canna say that e’er I said ye nay. Rog. Alake! my frighted Heart begins to fail, When e’er I mint to tell ye out my Tale, For fear some tighter Lad, mair rich than I, Has win your Love, and near your Heart may ly. Jen. I loo my Father, Cousin Meg I love; But to this Day, nae Man my Mind could move: Except my Kin, ilk Lad’s alike to me; And frae ye all I best had keep me free. Rog. How lang, dear Jenny? — Sayna that again; What Pleasure can ye tak in giving Pain? I’m glad, however, that ye yet stand free: Wha kens but ye may rue, and pity me? Jen. Ye have Pity else, to see ye set On that whilk makes our Sweetness soon foryet. Wow! but we’re bonny, good, and every thing; How sweet we breathe, when e’er we kiss, or sing! But we’re nae sooner Fools to give Consent, Than we our Daffine and tint Power repent: When prison’d in four Waws, a Wife right tame, Altho’ the first, the greatest Drudge at Hame. Rog. That only happens, when for sake of Gear, Ane wales a Wife, as he wad buy a Mear; Or when dull Parents Bairns together bind Of different Tempers, that can ne’er prove kind. But Love, true downright Love, engages me, Tho’ thou should scorn, — still to delight in thee. Jen. What suggard’d Words frae Woers Lips can fa’! But girning Marriage comes and ends them a’. I’ve seen with shining Fair the Morning rise, And soon the sleety Clouds mirk a’ the Skies. I’ve seen the Silver Spring a while rin clear, And soon in Mossy Puddles disappear. The Bridegroom may rejoice, the Bride may smile; But soon Contentions a’ their Joys beguile. Rog. I’ve seen the Morning rise with fairest Light, The Day unclouded sink in calmest Night. 402

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The Gentle Shepherd I’ve seen the Spring rin wimpling thro’ the Plain, Increase and join the Ocean without Stain. The Bridegroom may be blyth, the Bride may smile; 1025 Rejoyce thro’ Life, and all your Fears beguile. Jen. Were I but sure you lang wou’d Love maintain, The fewest Words my easy Heart could gain: For I maun own, since now at last you’re free, Altho’ I jok’d, I lov’d your Company; 1030 And ever had a Warmness in my Breast, That made ye dearer to me than the rest. Rog. I’m happy now! o’er happy! had my Head! — This Gush of Pleasure’s like to be my Dead. Come to my Arms! or strike me! I’m all fir’d 1035 With wondring Love! let’s kiss till we be tir’d. Kiss, kiss! we’ll kiss the Sun and Starns away, And ferly at the quick Return of Day! O Jenny! let my Arms about thee twine, And briss thy bonny Breasts and Lips to mine. 1040 Jen. With equal Joy my easy Heart gi’es Way, To own thy well try’d Love has won the Day. Now by these warmest Kisses thou has tane, Swear thus to love me, when by Vows made ane. Rog. I swear by Fifty thousand yet to come, 1045 Or may the first ane strike me deaf and dumb, There shall not be a kindlier dawted Wife, If you agree with me to lead your Life. Jen. Well, I agree: — Neist, to my Parent gae, Get his Consent; — he’ll hardly say ye nay. 1050 Ye have what will commend ye to him well, Auld Fowks, like them, that wants na Milk and Meal. Rog. My Faulds contain twice fifteen Forrow Nowt, As mony Newcal in my Bayers rowt: Five Pack of Woo I can at Lammas sell, 1055 Shorn frae my bob-tail’d Bleeters on the Fell. Good twenty Pair of Blankets for our Bed, With meikle Care, my thrifty Mither made. Ilk Thing that makes a hartsome House and tight, Was still her Care, my Father’s great Delight. 1060 They left me all, which now gi’es Joy to me, Because I can give a’, my Dear, to thee: And had I fifty Times as meikle mair, Nane but my Jenny shou’d the samen skair. My Love and all is yours; now had them fast, 1065 And guide them as ye like to gar them last. Jen. I’ll do my best — But see wha comes this Way, Patie and Meg; — besides, I mauna stay: Let’s steal frae ither now, and meet the Morn; If we be seen, we’ll drie a deal of Scorn. 1070 Rog. To where the Saugh-trees shades the Mennin-pool, I’ll frae the Hill come down, when Day grows cool: 403

Poems Keep Triste, and meet me there; — there let us meet, To kiss, and tell our Love; — there’s nought sae sweet.

Act III. Scene IV.

This Scene presents the Knight and Sym 1075 Within a Galery of the Place, Where all looks ruinous and grim; Nor has the Baron shown his Face, But joking with his Shepherd leel, Aft speers the Gate he kens fu’ well. 1080

Sir WILLIAM and SYMON.

S. Will. To whom belongs this House so much decay’d? Sym. To ane that lost it, lending generous Aid, To bear the Head up, when rebellious Tail Against the Laws of Nature did prevail. Sir William Worthy is our Master’s Name, 1085 Whilk fills us all with Joy, now He’s come hame. (Sir William draps his masking Beard, Symon transported sees The welcome Knight, with fond Regard, And grasps him round the Knees) 1090 My Master! my dear Master! — do I breathe, To see him healthy, strong, and free frae Skaith; Return’d to chear his wishing Tenants Sight, To bless his Son, my Charge, the World’s Delight! S. Will. Rise, faithful Symon; in my Arms enjoy 1095 A Place, thy Due, kind Guardian of my Boy: I came to view thy Care in this Disguise, And am confirm’d thy Conduct has been wise; Since still the Secret thou’st securely seal’d, And ne’er to him his real Birth reveal’d. 1100 Sym. The due Obedience to your strict Command Was the first Lock; — neist, my ain Judgement fand Out Reasons plenty: Since, without Estate, A Youth, tho’ sprung frae Kings, looks baugh and blate. S. Will. And aften vain and idly spend their Time, 1105 ’Till grown unfit for Action, past their Prime, Hang on their Friends — which gie’s their Sauls a cast, That turns them downright Beggars at the last. Sym. Now well I wat, Sir, ye have spoken true; For there’s Laird Kytie’s Son, that’s loo’d by few: 1110 His Father steght his Fortune in his Wame, And left his Heir nought but a gentle Name. He gangs about sornan frae Place to Place, As scrimp of Manners, as of Sense and Grace; Oppressing all as Punishment of their Sin, 1115 That are within his tenth Degree of Kin: 404

The Gentle Shepherd Rins in ilk Trader’s Debt, wha’s sae unjust To his ain Fam’ly, as to give him trust. S. Will. Such useless Branches of a Common-wealth, Should be lopt off, to give a State mair Health. 1120 Unworthy bare Reflection. — Symon, run O’er all your Observations on my Son; A Parent’s Fondness easily finds Excuse: But do not with Indulgence Truth abuse. Sym. To speak his Praise, the langest Simmer Day 1125 Wad be o’er short, — cou’d I them right display. In Word and Deed he can sae well behave, That out of Sight he runs before the lave; And when there’s e’er a Quarrel or Contest, Patrick’s made Judge to tell whase Cause is best; 1130 And his Decreet stands good; — he’ll gar it stand: Wha dares to grumble, finds his correcting Hand; With a firm Look, and a commanding Way, He gars the proudest of our Herds obey. S. Will. Your Tale much pleases; — my good Friend, proceed: 1135 What Learning has he? Can he write and read? Sym. Baith wonder well; for, troth I didna spare To gi’e him at the School enough of Lair; And he delites in Books: — He reads and speaks, With Fowks that ken them, Latin Words and Greeks. 1140 S. Will. Where gets he Books to read? — and of what kind? Tho’ some give Light, some blindly lead the Blind. Sym. Whene’er he drives our Sheep to Edinburgh Port, He buys some Books of History, Sangs or Sport: Nor does he want of them a Rowth at Will, 1145 And carries ay a Poutchfu’ to the Hill. About ane Shakespear, and a famons [sic; famous] Ben, He aften speaks, and ca’s them best of Men. How sweetly Hawthrenden and Stirling sing, And ane ca’d Cowley, loyal to his King, 1150 He kens fu’ well, and gars their Verses ring. I sometimes thought that he made o’er great Frase, About fine Poems, Histories and Plays. When I reprov’d him anes, — a Book he brings, With this, quoth he, on Braes I crack with Kings. 1155 S. Will. He answer’d well; and much ye glad my Ear, When such Accounts I of my Shepherd hear. Reading such Books can raise a Peasant’s Mind Above a Lord’s that is not thus inclin’d. Sym. What ken we better, that sae sindle look, 1160 Except on rainy Sundays, on a Book; When we a Leaf or twa haff read haff spell, Till a’ the rest sleep round, as well’s our sell? S. Will. Well jested, Symon: — But one Question more I’ll only ask ye now, and then give o’er. 1165 The Youth’s arriv’d the Age when little Loves

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Poems Flighter around young Hearts like cooing Doves: Has nae young Lassie, with inviting Mien, And rosy Cheek, the Wonder of the Green, Engag’d his Look, and caught his youthfu’ Heart? 1170 Sym. I fear’d the warst, but kend the smallest Part, Till late I saw him twa three times mair sweet, With Glaud’s fair Neice [sic], than I thought right or meet: I had my Fears; but now have nought to fear, Since like your self your Son will soon appear. 1175 A Gentleman, enrich’d with all these Charms, May bless the fairest best born Lady’s Arms. S. Will. This Night must end his unambitious Fire, When higher Views shall greater Thoughts inspire. Go, Symon, bring him quickly here to me; 1180 None but your self shall our first Meeting see. Yonder’s my Horse and Servants nigh at hand, They come just at the Time I gave Command; Straight in my own Apparel I’ll go dress: Now ye the Secret may to all confess. 1185 Sym. With how much Joy I on this Errand flee! There’s nane can know, that is not downright me. Exit Symon.

Sir William solus.

When the Event of Hopes successfully appears, One happy Hour cancells the Toil of Years. A thousand Toils are lost in Lethe’s Stream, And Cares evanish like a Morning Dream; When wish’d for Pleasures rise like Morning Light, The Pain that’s past enhanses the Delight. These Joys I feel that Words can ill express, I ne’er had known without my late Distress. But from his rustick Business and Love, I must in haste my Patrick soon remove, To Courts and Camps that may his Soul improve. Like the rough Diamond, as it leaves the Mine, Only in little Breakings shews its Light, Till artfu’ Polishing has made it shine: Thus Education makes the Genius bright.

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End of the Third ACT.

Act IV. Scene I. The Scene describ’d in former Page, Glaud’s Onset. — Enter Mause and Madge. 406

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The Gentle Shepherd 1205 Maus. Our Laird’s come hame! and owns young Pate his Heir: That’s News indeed! ———— ———— Mad. ——— ——— As true as ye stand there. As they were dancing all in Symon’s Yard, Sir William, like a Warlock, with a Beard Five Nives in Length, and white as driven Snaw, 1210 Amang us came, cry’d, Had ye merry a’. We ferly’d meikle at his unco Look, While frae his Pouch he whirled forth a Book. As we stood round about him on the Green, He view’d us a’, but fix’d on Pate his Een; 1215 Then pawkyly pretended he cou’d spae, Yet for his Pains and Skill wad nathing ha’e. Maus. Then sure the Lasses, and ilk gaping Coof, Wad rin about him, and had out their Loof. Mad. As fast as Flaes skip to the Tate of Woo, 1220 Whilk slee Tod Lawrie hads without his Mow, When he to drown them, and his Hips to cool, In Summer Days slides backward in a Pool: In short he did, for Pate, braw things foretell, Without the Help of Conjuring or Spell. 1225 At last, when well diverted, he withdrew, Pow’d aff his Beard to Symon, Symon knew His welcome Master; — round his Knees he gat, Hang at his Coat, and syne for Blythness grat. Patrick was sent for; — happy Lad is he! 1230 Symon tald Elspa, Elspa tald it me. Ye’ll hear out a’ the secret Story soon; And troth ’tis e’en right odd when a’ is done, To think how Symon ne’er afore wad tell, Na, no sae meikle as to Pate himsell. 1235 Our Meg, poor thing, alake! has lost her Jo. Maus. It may be sae; wha kens? and may be no. To lift a Love that’s rooted, is great Pain: Even Kings has tane a Queen out of the Plain: And what has been before, may be again. 1240 Mad. Sic Nonsence! Love tak root, but Tocher-good, ’Tween a Herd’s Bairn, and ane of gentle Blood: Sic Fashions in King Bruce’s Days might be; But siccan Ferlies now we never see. Maus. Gif Pate forsakes her, Bauldy she may gain; 1245 Yonder he comes, and wow but he looks fain! Nae doubt he thinks that Peggy’s now his ain. Mad. He get her! slaverin Doof; It sets him weil To yoke a Plough where Patrick thought to till. Gif I were Meg, I’d let young Master see — 1250 Maus. Ye’d be as dorty in your Choice as he: And so wad I. But whisht, here Bauldy comes.

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Enter Bauldy singing.

Jenny said to Jocky, Gin ye winna tell, Ye shall be the Lad, I’ll be the Lass my sell; Ye’re a bonny Lad, and I’m a Lassie free; Ye’re welcomer to tak me than to let me be.

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I trow sae, — Lasses will come too at last, Tho’ for a while they maun their Snaw-ba’s cast. Maus. Well, Bauldy, how gaes a’? — — — Bauld. —— —— —— —— Faith unco right: 1260 I hope we’ll a’ sleep sound but ane this Night. Mad. And wha’s the unlucky ane, if we may ask? Baul. To find out that, is nae difficult Task; Poor bonny Peggy, wha maun think nae mair On Pate, turn’d Patrick, and Sir William’s Heir. 1265 Now, now, good Madge, and honest Mause, stand be, While Meg’s in dumps, put in a Word for me. I’ll be as kind as ever Pate could prove; Less wilful, and ay constant in my Love. Mad. As Neps can witness, and the Bushy Thorn, 1270 Where mony a Time to her your Heart was sworn; Fy! Bauldy, blush, and Vows of Love regard; What other Lass will trow a mansworn Herd? The Curse of Heaven hings ay aboon their Heads, That’s ever guilty of sic sinfu’ Deeds. 1275 I’ll ne’er advise my Niece sae gray a Gate; Nor will she be advis’d, fu’ well I wate. Bauld. Sae gray a Gate! Mansworn! and a’ the rest: Ye leed, auld Roudes — and, in Faith, had best Eat in your Words; else I shall gar ye stand 1280 With a het Face afore the haly Band. Mad. Ye’ll gar me stand! ye sheveling-gabit Brock; Speak that again, and, trembling, dread my Rock, And ten sharp Nails, that when my Hands are in, Can flyp the skin o’ye’r Cheeks out oe’r your Chin. 1285 Bauld. I tak ye Witness, Mause, ye heard her say, That I’m mansworn: — I winna let it gae. Mad. Ye’re witness to, he ca’d me bonny Names, And should be serv’d as his good Breeding claims. Ye filthy Dog! —— —— —— —— —— 1290 Flees to his Hair like a Fury. — A stout Battle. — Mause endeavours to redd them. Maus. Let gang your Grips, fy, Madge! howt, Bauldy, leen: I wadna wish this Tulzie had been seen; ’Tis sae daft like. ——— ——— ——— ——— Bauldy gets out of Madge’s Clutches with a bleeding Nose. Mad. ——— ——— ’Tis dafter like to thole 408

The Gentle Shepherd An Ether-cap, like him, to blaw the Coal: 1295 It sets him well, with vile unscrapit Tongue, To cast up whether I be auld or young; They’re aulder yet than I have married been, And or they died their Bairns Bairns have seen. Maus. That’s true; and Bauldy ye was far to blame, 1300 To ca’ Madge ought but her ain christen’d Name. Bauld. My Lugs, my Nose, and Nodle finds the same. Mad. Auld Roudes! Filthy Fallow; I shall auld ye. Mause. Howt no! — ye’ll e’en be Friends with honest Bauldy. Come, come, shake Hands; this maun nae farder gae: 1305 Ye maun forgi’e’m. I see the Lad looks wae. Bauld. In troth now, Mause, I have at Madge nae Spite; But she abusing first, was a’ the Wite Of what has happen’d: And should therefore crave My Pardon first, and shall Acquittance have. 1310 Mad. I crave your Pardon! Gallows-face, gae greet, And own your Faut to her that ye wad cheat, Gae, or be blasted in your Health and Gear, ’Till ye learn to perform, as well as swear. Vow, and lowp back! — Was e’er the like heard tell? 1315 Swith, tak him Deil; he’s o’er lang out of Hell.

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Bauldy running off.

His Presence be about us! Curst were he That were condemn’d for Life to live with thee. Exit Bauldy.

Madge laughing.

I think I have towzl’d his Harigalds a wee; He’ll no soon grein to tell his Love to me. He’s but a Rascal that wad mint to serve A Lassie sae, he does but ill deserve. Maus. Ye towin’d him tightly, — I commend ye for’t; His blooding Snout gae me nae little Sport: For this Forenoon he had that Scant of Grace, And Breeding baith, — to tell me to my Face, He hop’d I was a Witch, and wadna stand To lend him in this Case my helping Hand. Mad. A Witch! — How had ye Patience this to bear, And leave him Een to see, or Lugs to hear? Maus. Auld wither’d Hands, and feeble Joints like mine, Obliges Fowk Resentment to decline; Till aft ’tis seen, when Vigour fails, then we With Cunning can the Lake of Pith supplie. Thus I pat aff Revenge till it was dark, Syne bade him come, and we should gang to wark: I’m sure he’ll keep his Triste; and I came here 409

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Poems To seek your Help, that we the Fool may fear. Mad. And special Sport we’ll have, as I protest; Ye’ll be the Witch, and I shall play the Ghaist, 1340 A Linen Sheet wond round me like ane dead, I’ll cawk my Face, and grane, and shake my Head. We’ll fleg him sae, he’ll mint nae mair to gang A conjuring, to do a Lassie wrang. Maus. Then let us go; for see, ’tis hard on Night, 1345 The Westlin Cloud shines red with setting Light. Exeunt. Act IV. Scene II. When Birds begin to nod upon the Bough, And the Green Swaird grows damp with falling Dew, While good Sir William is to Rest retir’d, The Gentle Shepherd tenderly inspir’d, 1350 Walks throw the Broom, with Roger ever leel, To meet, to comfort Meg, and tak Farewell. Rog. Wow! but I’m cadgie, and my Heart lowps light. O, Mr. Patrick! ay your Thoughts were right: Sure Gentle Fowk are farther seen than we, That naithing ha’e to brag of Pedigree. My Jenny now, wha brake my Heart this Morn, Is perfect yielding, — sweet, — and nae mair Scorn. I spake my Mind — she heard — I spake again, She smil’d — I kiss’d — I woo’d, nor woo’d in vain. Pat. I’m glad to hear’t — But O my Change this Day Heaves up my Joy, and yet I’m sometimes wae. I’ve found a Father, gently kind as brave, And an Estate that lifts me ’boon the lave. With Looks all Kindness, Words that Love confest; He all the Father to my Soul exprest, While close he held me to his manly Breast. Such were the Eyes, he said, thus smil’d the Mouth Of thy lov’d Mother, Blessing of my Youth; Who set too soon! — And while he Praise bestow’d, Adown his graceful Cheek a Torrent flow’d. My new-born Joys, and this his tender Tale, Did, mingled thus, o’er a’ my Thoughts prevail: That speechless lang, my late kend Sire I view’d, While gushing Tears my panting Breast bedew’d. Unusual Transports made my Head turn round, Whilst I my self with rising Raptures found The happy Son of ane sae much renown’d. But he has heard! — too faithful Symon’s Fear Has brought my Love for Peggy to his Ear: Which he forbids. — Ah! this confounds my Peace,

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The Gentle Shepherd While thus to beat, my Heart must sooner cease. Rog. How to advise ye, troth I’m at a stand: But were’t my Case, ye’d clear it up aff hand. Pat. Duty, and haflen Reason plead his Cause: 1385 But what cares Love for Reason, Rules and Laws? Still in my Heart the Shepherdess excells, And Part of my new Happiness repells. Rog. Enjoy them baith. — Sir William will be won: Your Peggy’s bonny; — you’re his only Son. 1390 Pat. She’s mine by Vows, and stronger Ties of Love; And frae these Bands nae Change my Mind shall move. I’ll wed nane else; thro’ Life I will be true: But still Obedience is a Parent’s Due. Rog. Is not our Master and your sell to stay 1395 Amang us here? — or are ye gawn away To London Court, or ither far aff Parts, To leave your ain poor us with broken Hearts? Pat. To Edinburgh straight to-morrow we advance, To London neist, and afterwards to France, 1400 Where I must stay some Years, and learn — to dance, And twa three other Monky-tricks. — That done, I come hame struting in my red-heel’d Shoon. Then ’tis design’d, when I can well behave, That I maun be some petted Thing’s dull Slave, 1405 For some few Bags of Cash, that I wat weel I nae mair need nor Carts do a third Wheel But Peggy, dearer to me than my Breath, Sooner than hear sic News, shall hear my Death. Rog. They wha have just enough, can soundly sleep; 1410 The O’ercome only fashes Fowk to keep. — Good Mr. Patrick, tak your ain Tale Hame. Pat. What was my Morning Thought, at Night’s the same. The Poor and Rich but differ in the Name. Content’s the greatest Bliss we can procure 1415 Frae ’boon the Lift. — Without it Kings are poor. Rog. But an Estate like your’s yields braw Content, When we but pick it scantly on the Bent: Fine Claiths, saft Beds, sweet Houses, and red Wine, Good Chear, and witty Friends, whene’er ye dine; 1420 Obeysant Servants, Honour, Wealth and Ease: Wha’s no content with these, are ill to please. Pat. Sae Roger thinks, and thinks not far amiss; But mony a Cloud hings hovering o’er their Bliss. The Passions rule the Roast; — and, if they’re sowr, 1425 Like the lean Ky, they’ll soon the fat devour. The Spleen, tint Honour, and affronted Pride, Stang like the sharpest Goads in Gentry’s Side. The Gouts and Gravels, and the ill Disease, Are frequentest with Fowk o’erlaid with Ease; 1430 While o’er the Moor the Shepherd with less Care,

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Poems Enjoys his sober Wish, and halesome Air. Rog. Lord, Man! I wonder ay, and it delights My Heart, whene’er I hearken to your Flights. How gat ye a’ that Sense, I fain wad lear, That I may easier Disappointments bear. Pat. Frae Books, the Wale of Books, I gat some Skill; These best can teach what’s real good and ill. Ne’er grudge ilk Year to ware some Stanes of Cheese, To gain these silent Friends that ever please. Rog. I’ll do’t, and ye shall tell me which to buy: Faith I’se ha’e Books, tho’ I shou’d sell my Ky. But now let’s hear how you’re design’d to move, Between Sir William’s Will, and Peggy’s Love. Pat. Then here it lyes; — His Will maun be obey’d; My Vows I’ll keep, and she shall be my Bride: But I sometime this last Design maun hide. Keep you the Secret close, and leave me here; I sent for Peggy; yonder comes my Dear. Rog. Pleas’d that ye trust me with the Secret, I To wyle it frae me a’ the Deils defy. Exit Roger.

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Patie solus. With what a Struggle must I now impart My Father’s Will to her that hads my Heart! I ken she loves, and her saft Saul will sink, While it stands trembling on the hated Brink Of Disappointment. — Heaven! support my Fair, And let her Comfort claim your tender Care. Her eyes are red! ——— ——— ——— ———

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Enter Peggy. ——— ——— My Peggy, why in Tears? Smile as ye wont, allow nae Room for Fears: Tho’ I’m nae mair a Shepherd, yet I’m thine. Peg. I dare not think sae high: I now repine At the unhappy Chance, that made not me A gentle Match, or still a Herd kept thee. Wha can, withoutten Pain, see frae the Coast The Ship that bears his All like to be lost? Like to be carry’d, by some Rever’s Hand, Far frae his Wishes, to some distant Land? Pat. Ne’er quarrel Fate, whilst it with me remains, To raise thee up, or still attend these Plains. My Father has forbid our Loves, I own: But Love’s superior to a Parent’s Frown. I Falshood hate: Come, kiss thy Cares away; I ken to love, as well as to obey. 412

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The Gentle Shepherd 1475 Sir William’s generous; leave the Task to me, To make strict Duty and true Love agree. Peg. Speak on! — speak ever thus, and still my Grief; But short I dare to hope the fond Relief. New Thoughts a gentler Face will soon inspire, That with nice Air swims round in Silk Attire: 1480 Then I, poor me! — with Sighs may ban my Fate, When the young Laird’s nae mair my heartsome Pate; Nae mair again to hear sweet Tales exprest, By the blyth Shepherd that excell’d the rest: Nae mair be envy’d by the tattling Gang, 1485 When Patie kiss’d me, when I danc’d or sang: Nae mair, alake! we’ll on the Meadow play! And rin haf breathless round the Rucks of Hay; As aftimes I have fled from thee right fain, And fawn on purpose, that I might be tane. 1490 Nae mair around the Foggy-know I’ll creep, To watch and stare upon thee, while asleep. But hear my Vow — ’twill help to give me Ease; May sudden Death, or deadly sair Disease, And warst of Ills attend my wretched Life, 1495 If e’er to ane, but you, I be a Wife. Pat. Sure Heaven approves — and be assur’d of me, I’ll ne’er gang back of what I’ve sworn to thee: And Time, tho’ Time maun interpose a while, And I maun leave my Peggy and this Isle; 1500 Yet Time, nor Distance, nor the fairest Face, If there’s a fairer, e’er shall fill thy Place. I’d hate my rising Fortune, should it move The fair Foundation of our faithful Love. If at my Foot were Crowns and Scepters laid, 1505 To bribe my Soul frae thee, delightful Maid; For thee I’d soon leave these inferior Things To sic as have the Patience to be Kings. Wherefore that Tear? Believe, and calm thy Mind. Peg. I greet for Joy, to hear thy Words sae kind. 1510 When Hopes were sunk, and nought but mirk Despair Made me think Life was little worth my Care, My Heart was like to burst; but now I see Thy generous Thoughts will save thy Love for me. With Patience then I’ll wait each wheeling Year, 1515 Hope Time away, till thou with Joy appear; And all the while I’ll study gentler Charms, To make me fitter for my Traveller’s Arms: I’ll gain on Uncle Glaud, — he’s far frae Fool, And will not grudge to put me thro’ ilk School; 1520 Where I may Manners learn ——— ——— Pat. —— —— —— —— That’s wisely said, And what he wares that Way shall be well paid. Tho’ without a’ the little Helps of Art, 413

Poems Thy native Sweets might gain a Prince’s Heart: 1525 Yet now, lest in our Station, we offend, We must learn Modes, to Innocence unkend; Affect aftimes to like the thing we hate, And drap Serenity, to keep up State: Laugh, when we’re sad; speak, when we’ve nought to say; 1530 And, for the Fashion, when we’re blyth, seem wae: Pay Compliments to them we aft have scorn’d; Then scandalize them, when their Backs are turn’d. Peg. If this is Gentry, I had rather be What I am still — but I’ll be ought with thee. 1535 Pat. No, no, my Peggy, I but only jest With Gentry’s Apes; for still amangst the best, Good Manners give Integrity a Bleez, When native Virtues join the Arts to please. Peg. Since with nae hazard, and sae small Expence, 1540 My Lad frae Books can gather siccan Sense; Then why, ah! why should the tempestuous Sea, Endanger thy dear Life, and frighten me? Sir William’s cruel, that wad force his Son, For Watna-whats, sae great a Risk to run. 1545 Pat. There is nae doubt, but travelling does improve, Yet I would shun it for thy Sake, my Love. But soon as I’ve shook aff my Landwart Cast, In foreign Cities, hame to thee I’ll haste. Peg. With every setting Day, and rising Morn, 1550 I’ll kneel to Heaven, and ask thy safe Return. Under that Tree, and on the Suckler Brae, Where aft we wont, when Bairns, to run and play; And to the Hissel-shaw where first ye vow’d Ye wad be mine, and I as eithly trow’d, 1555 I’ll aften gang, and tell the Trees and Flowers, With Joy, that they’ll bear Witness I am yours. Pat. My Dear, allow me, frae thy Temples fair, A shining Ringlet of thy flowing Hair; Which, as a Sample of each lovely Charm, 1560 I’ll aften kiss, and wear about my Arm. Peg. Were’t in my Power with better Boons to please, I’d give the best I could with the same Ease; Nor wad I, if thy Luck had faln to me, Been in ae Jot less generous to thee. 1565 Pat. I doubt it not; but since we’ve little Time, To ware’t on Words, wad border on a Crime: Love’s safter Meaning better is exprest, When ’tis with Kisses on the Heart imprest. Exeunt.

End of the Fourth ACT. 414

The Gentle Shepherd ACT V. SCENE I. See how poor Bauldy stares like ane possest, And roars up Symon frae his kindly Rest. Bare leg’d, with Night-cap, and unbutton’d Coat, See, the auld Man comes forward to the Sot. Sym. What want ye, Bauldy, at this early Hour, While drowsy Sleep keeps a’ beneath its Pow’r? Far to the North, the scant approaching Light Stands equal ’twixt the Morning and the Night. What gars ye shake and glowr, and look sae wan? Your Teeth they chitter, Hair like Bristles stand. Baul. O len me soon some Water, Milk or Ale, My Head’s grown giddy, — Legs with shaking fail; I’ll ne’er dare venture forth at Night my lane: Alake! I’ll never be my sell again. I’ll ne’er o’erput it! Symon! O Symon! O! Symon gives him a Drink. Sym. What ails thee, Gowk! — to make sae loud ado? You’ve wak’d Sir William, he has left his Bed; He comes, I fear ill pleas’d: I hear his Tred. Enter Sir William. S. Will. How goes the Night? Does Day-light yet appear? Symon, you’re very timeously asteer. Sym. I’m sorry, Sir, that we’ve disturb’d your Rest: But some strange thing has Bauldy’s Sp’rit opprest; He’s seen some Witch, or wrestl’d with a Ghaist. Baul. O ay, — dear Sir, in Troth ’tis very true; And I am come to make my Plaint to you.

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Sir William smiling. I lang to hear’t. ——— ——— ——— ——— ——— 1595 Baul. ——— ——— Ah! Sir, the Witch ca’d Mause, That wins aboon the Mill amang the Haws, First promis’d that she’d help me with her Art, To gain a bonny thrawart Lassie’s Heart. As she had tristed, I met wi’er this Night; 1600 But may nae Friend of mine get sic a Fright! For the curs’d Hag, instead of doing me good, (The very Thought o’t’s like to freeze my Blood!) Rais’d up a Ghaist or Diel, I kenna whilk, Like a dead Corse, in Sheet as white as Milk, 1605 Black Hands it had, and Face as wan as Death. Upon me fast the Witch and it fell baith, 415

Poems And gat me down; while I like a great Fool, Was laboured as I wont to be at School. My Heart out of its Hool was like to lowp; 1610 I pithless grew with Fear, and had nae Hope, Till, with an elritch Laugh, they vanish’d quite: Syne I, haff dead with Anger, Fear and Spite, Crap up, and fled straight frae them, Sir, to you, Hoping your Help, to gi’e the Deil his Due. 1615 I’m sure my Heart will ne’er gi’e o’er to dunt, Till in a fat Tar-barrel Mause be burnt. S. Will. Well, Bauldy, whate’er’s just shall granted be; Let Mause be brought this Morning down to me. Baul. Thanks to your Honour; soon shall I obey: 1620 But first I’ll Roger raise, and twa three mae, To catch her fast, or she get Leave to squeel, And cast her Cantraips that bring up the Deil. Exit Bauldy. S. Will. Troth, Symon, Bauldy’s more afraid than hurt, The Witch and Ghaist have made themselves good Sport. What silly Notions crowd the clouded Mind, That is thro’ want of Education blind! Sym. But does your Honour think there’s nae sic Thing, As Witches raising Diels up thro’ a Ring? Syne playing Tricks, a thousand I cou’d tell, Cou’d never be contriv’d on this Side Hell. S. Will. Such as the Devil’s dancing in a Moor Amongst a few old Women craz’d and poor, Who are rejoic’d to see him frisk and lowp O’er Braes and Bogs, with Candles in his Dowp; Appearing sometimes like a black-horn’d Cow, Aftimes like Bawty, Badrans, or a Sow: Then with his Train thro’ airy Paths to glide, While they on Cats, or Clowns, or Broom-staffs ride; Or in the Egg-shell skim out o’er the Main, To drink their Leader’s Health in France or Spain: Then aft by Night, bumbaze Hare-hearted Fools, By tumbling down their Cup-board, Chairs and Stools. Whate’er’s in Spells, or if there Witches be, Such Whimsies seem the most absurd to me. Sym. ’Tis true enough, we ne’er heard that a Witch Had either meikle Sense, or yet was rich. But Mause, tho’ poor, is a sagacious Wife, And lives a quiet and very honest Life; That gars me think this Hobleshew that’s past Will land in naithing but a Joke at last. Sir Will. I’m sure it will: — But see increasing Light Commands the Imps of Darkness down to Night; Bid raise my Servants, and my Horse prepare, 416

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The Gentle Shepherd Whilst I walk out to take the Morning Air.

1655

Exeunt.

ACT V. SCENE II. While Peggy laces up her Bosom fair, With a blew Snood Jenny binds up her Hair, Glaud by his Morning Ingle takes a Beek, The rising Sun shines motty thro’ the Reek, A Pipe his Mouth; the Lasses please his Een, And now and than his Joke maun interveen.

1660

Glaud. I Wish, my Bairns, it may keep fair till Night; Ye do not use sae soon to see the Light. Nae doubt now ye intend to mix the thrang, To take your Leave of Patrick or he gang. 1665 But do ye think that now when he’s a Laird, That he poor Landwart Lasses will regard? Jen. Tho’ he’s young Master now, I’m very sure He has mair Sense than slight auld Friends, tho’ poor: But yesterday he ga’e us mony a Tug, 1670 And kiss’d my Cousin there frae Lug to Lug. Glaud. Ay, ay, nae Doubt o’t, and he’ll do’t again; But be advis’d, his Company refrain: Before he, as a Shepherd, sought a Wife, With her to live a chast and frugal Life; 1675 But now grown gentle, soon he will forsake Sic godly Thoughts, and brag of being a Rake. Peg. A Rake! — What’s that? — Sure if it means ought ill, He’ll never be’t; else I have tint my Skill. Glaud. Daft Lassie, ye ken nought of the Affair, 1680 Ane young and good and gentle’s unco’ rare. A Rake’s a graceless Spark, that thinks nae Shame, To do what like of us thinks Sin to name: Sic are sae void of Shame, they’ll never stap To brag how aften they have had the Clap. 1685 They’ll tempt young Things, like you, with Youdith flush’d, Syne make ye a’ their Jest, when ye’re debauch’d. Be warry then, I say, and never gi’e Encouragement, or bourd with sic as he. Peg. Sir William’s vertuous, and of gentle Blood; 1690 And may not Patrick too, like him, be good? Glaud. That’s true, and mony Gentry mae than he, As they are wiser, better are than we; But thinner sawn: They’re sae puft up with Pride, There’s mony of them mocks ilk haly Guide, 1695 That shaws the Gate to Heaven. — I’ve heard my sell, Some of them laugh at Doomsday, Sin and Hell. Jen. Watch o’er us, Father! Heh! that’s very odd; 417

Poems Sure him that doubts a Doomsday, doubts a GOD. Glaud. Doubt! why, they neither doubt, nor judge, nor think, Nor hope, nor fear; but curse, debauch and drink: But I’m no saying this, as if I thought That Patrick to sic Gates will e’er be brought. Peg. The LORD forbid! Na, he kens better things: But here comes Aunt; her Face some Ferly brings.

1700

1705

Enter Madge. Haste, haste ye; we’re a’ sent for o’er the Gate, To hear, and help to redd some odd Debate ’Tween Mause and Bauldy, ’bout some Witchcraft Spell, At Symon’s House: The Knight sits Judge himsell. Glaud. Lend me my Staff; — Madge, lock the Outer-door, And bring the Lasses wi’ ye, I’ll step before.

1710

Exit Glaud. Mad. Poor Meg! -- Look, Jenny, was the like e’er seen, How bleer’d and red with greeting look her Een? This Day her brankan Wooer takes his Horse. To strute a gentle Spark at Edinburgh Cross; 1715 To change his Kent, cut frae the branchy Plain, For a nice Sword, and glancing headed Cane; To leave his Ram-horn Spoons, and kitted Whey, For gentler Tea, that smells like new won Hay; To leave the Green-swaird Dance, when we gae milk, 1720 To rustle amang the Beauties clad in Silk. But Meg, poor Meg! maun with the Shepherds stay, And tak what GOD will send, in Hodden-gray. Peg. Dear Aunt, what need ye fash us wi’ your Scorn? That’s no my Faut that I’m nae gentler born. 1725 Gif I the Daughter of some Laird had been, I ne’er had notic’d Patie on the Green: Now since he rises, why should I repine? If he’s made for another, he’ll ne’er be mine: And then, the like has been, if the Decree 1730 Designs him mine, I yet his Wife may be. Mad. A bonny Story, trowth! — But we delay: Prin up your Aprons baith, and come away. Exeunt. ACT V. SCENE III. Sir William fills the twa-arm’d Chair, While Symon, Roger, Glaud and Mause, 1735 Attend, and with loud Laughter hear Daft Bauldy bluntly plead his Cause: For now ’tis tell’d him that the Taz 418

The Gentle Shepherd Was handled by revengfu’ Madge, Because he brak good Breeding’s Laws, 1740 And with his Nonsense rais’d the Rage. S.Will. And was that all? Well, Bauldy, ye was serv’d No otherwise than what ye well deserv’d. Was it so small a Matter, to defame, And thus abuse an honest Woman’s Name? Besides your going about to have betray’d By Perjury an innocent young Maid. Baul. Sir, I confess my Faut thro’ a’ the Steps, And ne’er again shall be untrue to Neps. Maus. Thus far, Sir, he oblig’d me on the Score; I kend not that they thought me sic before. Baul. An’t like your Honour, I believ’d it well; But trowth I was e’en doilt to seek the Deil: Yet, with your Honour’s Leave, tho’ she’s nae Witch, She’s baith a slee and a revengefu’ —— And that my Some-place finds; — but I had best Had in my Tongue, for yonder comes the Ghaist, And the young bonny Witch, whase rosy Cheek, Sent me, without my Wit, the Deil to seek. Enter Madge, Peggy, and Jenny.

1745

1750

1755

Sir William, looking at Peggy.

Whose Daughter’s she that wears th’ Aurora Gown, 1760 With Face so fair, and Locks a lovely brown? How sparkling are her Eyes! What’s this! I find The Girl brings all my Sister to my Mind. Such were the Features once adorn’d a Face, Which Death too soon depriv’d of sweetest Grace. 1765 Is this your Daughter, Glaud? ——— ——— ——— Glaud. ——— ——— ——— Sir, she’s my Niece; — And yet she’s not: — But I should hald my Peace. S. Will. This is a Contradiction: What d’ ye mean? She is, and is not! pray thee, Glaud, explain. 1770 Glaud. Because I doubt, if I should make appear What I have kept a Secret thirteen Year. Maus. You may reveal what I can fully clear. S. Will. Speak soon; I’m all Impatience! —— —— Pat. —— —— —— —— —— —— —— So am I! 1775 For much I hope, and hardly yet know why. Glaud. Then, since my Master orders, I obey. This Bonny Fundling, ae clear Morn of May, Close by the Lee-side of my Door I found, All sweet and clean, and carefully hapt round, 1780 In Infant-weeds of rich and gentle Make. What cou’d they be, thought I, did thee forsake?

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Poems Wha, warse than Brutes, cou’d leave expos’d to Air Sae much of Innocence sae sweetly fair, Sae hopeless young? For she appear’d to me 1785 Only about twa Towmonds auld to be. I took her in my Arms, the Bairnie smil’d With sic a Look wad made a Savage mild. I hid the Story: She has past sincesyne As a poor Orphan, and a Niece of mine. 1790 Nor do I rue my Care about the We’an, For she’s well worth the Pains that I have tane. Ye see she’s bonny, I can swear she’s good, And am right sure she’s come of gentle Blood: Of whom I kenna. — Nathing ken I mair, 1795 Than what I to your Honour now declare. S.Will. This Tale seems strange! —— —— Pat. —— —— —— —— The Tale delights my Ear; S. Will. Command your Joys, young Man, till Truth appear. Maus. That be my Task. — Now, Sir, bid all be hush; 1800 Peggy may smile; — thou hast no Cause to blush. Long have I wish’d to see this happy Day, That I might safely to the Truth give way; That I may now Sir William Worthy name, The best and nearest Friend that she can claim: 1805 He saw’t at first, and with quick Eye did trace His Sister’s Beauty’s in her Daughter’s Face. S. Will. Old Woman, do not rave, — prove what you say; ’Tis dangerous in Affairs like this to play. Pat. What Reason, Sir, can an old Woman have 1810 To tell a Lie, when she’s sae near her Grave? But how, or why, it should be Truth, I grant, I every thing looks like a Reason want. Omnes. The Story’s odd! we wish we heard it out. S. Will. Mak haste, good Woman, and resolve each Doubt. 1815 Mause goes foreward, leading Peggy to Sir William. Maus. Sir, view me well: Has fifteen Years so plow’d A wrinkled Face that you have often view’d, That here I as an unknown Stranger stand, Who nurs’d her Mother that now holds my Hand? Yet stronger Proofs I’ll give, if you demand. 1820 S. Will. Ha! honest Nurse, where were my Eyes before! I know thy Faithfulness, and need no more; Yet, from the Lab’rinth to lead out my Mind, Say, to expose her who was so unkind? Sir William embraces Peggy, and makes her sit by him.

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Yes, surely thou’rt my Niece; Truth must prevail: But no more Words, till Mause relate her Tale. 420

1825

The Gentle Shepherd Pat. Good Nurse, go on; nae Musick’s haff sae fine, Or can give Pleasure like these Words of thine. Maus. Then, it was I that sav’d her Infant-life Her Death being threatened by an Uncle’s Wife. 1830 The Story’s lang; but I the Secret knew, How they pursu’d, with avaritious View; Her rich Estate, of which they’re now possest: All this to me a Confident confest. I heard with Horror, and with trembling Dread, 1835 They’d smoor the sakeless Orphan in her Bed! That very Night, when all were sunk in Rest, At Midnight hour, the Floor I saftly prest, And staw the sleeping Innocent away; With whom I travel’d some few Miles e’er Day: 1840 All Day I hid me, — when the Day was done, I kept my Journey, lighted by the Moon, Till Eastward Fifty Miles I reach’d these Plains, Where needful Plenty glads your chearful Swains; Afraid of being found out, I to secure 1845 My Charge, e’en laid her at this Shepherd’s Door, And took a neighbouring Cottage here, that I, Whate’er should happen to her, might be by. Here, honest Glaud himsell, and Symon may Remember well, how I that very Day 1850 Frae Roger’s Father took my little Crove. Glaud, with Tears of Joy happing down his Beard. I well remember’t. Lord reward your Love: Lang have I wish’d for this; for aft I thought, Sic Knowledge sometime should about be brought. Pat. ’Tis now a Crime to doubt, — my Joys are full, 1855 With due Obedience to my Parent’s Will. Sir, with paternal Love survey her Charms, And blame me not for rushing to her Arms. She’s mine by Vows; and would, tho’ still unknown, Have been my Wife, when I my Vows durst own. 1860 S. Will. My Niece, my Daughter, welcome to my Care, Sweet Image of thy Mother good and fair, Equal with Patrick: Now my greatest Aim Shall be, to aid your Joys, and well match’d Flame. My Boy, receive her from your Father’s Hand, 1865 With as good Will as either would demand. Patie and Peggy embrace, and kneel to Sir William. Pat. With as much Joy this Blessing I receive, As ane wad Life, that’s sinking in a Wave. Sir William raises them. 421

Poems I give you both my Blessing: May your Love Produce a happy Race, and still improve. 1870 Peg. My Wishes are compleat, — my Joys arise, While I’m haff dizy with the blest Surprise. And am I then a Match for my ain Lad, That for me so much generous Kindness had? Lang may Sir William bless these happy Plains, 1875 Happy while Heaven grant he on them remains. Pat. Be lang our Guardian, still our Master be; We’ll only crave what you shall please to gi’e: The Estate be your’s, my Peggy’s ane to me. Glaud. I hope your Honour now will take amends 1880 Of them that sought her Life for wicked Ends. S. Will. The base unnatural Villain soon shall know, That Eyes above watch the Affairs below. I’ll strip him soon of all to her pertains, And make him reimburse his ill got Gains. 1885 Peg. To me the Views of Wealth and an Estate, Seem light when put in Ballance with my Pate: For his Sake only, I’ll ay thankful bow For such a Kindness, best of Men, to you. Sym. What double Blythness wakens up this Day! 1890 I hope now, Sir, you’ll no soon haste away. Sall I unsadle your Horse, and gar prepare A Dinner for ye of hale Country Fare? See how much Joy unwrinkles every Brow; Our Looks hing on the twa, and doat on you: 1895 Even Bauldy the Bewitch’d has quite forgot Fell Madge’s Taz, and pawky Mause’s Plot. S. Will. Kindly old Man, remain with you this Day, I never from these Fields again will stray: Masons and Wrights shall soon my House repair, 1900 And bussy Gardners shall new Planting rear; My Father’s hearty Table you soon shall see Restor’d, and my best Friends rejoyce with me. Sym. That’s the best News I heard this twenty Year; New Day breaks up, rough Times begin to clear. 1905 Glaud. GOD save the King, and save Sir William lang, To enjoy their ain, and raise the Shepherds Sang. Rog. Wha winna dance? wha will refuse to sing? What Shepherd’s Whistle winna lilt the Spring? Baul. I’m Friends with Mause, — with very Madge I’m ’greed, 1910 Altho’ they skelpit me when woodly fleid: I’m now fu’ blyth, and frankly can forgive, To join and sing, Lang may Sir William live. Mad. Lang may he live: — and, Bauldy, learn to steek Your Gab a wee, and think before ye speak; 1915 And never ca’ her auld that wants a Man, Else ye may yet some Witches Fingers ban. This Day I’ll wi’ the youngest of ye rant,

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The Gentle Shepherd And brag for ay, that I was ca’d the Aunt Of our young Lady, — my dear bonny Bairn! 1920 Peg. No other Name I’ll ever for you learn. — And, my good Nurse, how shall I greatfu’ be, For a’ thy matchless Kindness done for me? Maus. The flowing Pleasures of this happy Day Does fully all I can require repay. 1925 S. Will. To faithful Symon, and, kind Glaud, to you, And to your Heirs I give in endless Feu, The Mailens ye possess, as justly due, For acting like kind Fathers to the Pair, Who have enough besides, and these can spare. 1930 Mause, in my House in Calmness close your Days, With nought to do, but sing your Maker’s Praise. Omnes. The LORD of Heaven return your Honour’s Love, Confirm your Joys, and a’ your Blessings roove.

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Patie, presenting Roger to Sir William.

Sir, here’s my trusty Friend, that always shar’d 1935 My Bosom-secrets, ere I was a Laird; Glaud’s Daughter Janet (Jenny, thinkna Shame) Rais’d, and maintains in him a Lover’s Flame: Lang was he dumb, at last he spake, and won, And hopes to be our honest Uncle’s Son: 1940 Be pleas’d to speak to Glaud for his Consent, That nane may wear a Face of Discontent. S. Will. My Son’s Demand is fair, — Glaud, let me crave, That trusty Roger may your Daughter have, With frank Consent; and while he does remain 1945 Upon these Fields, I make him Chamberlain. Glaud. You crowd your Bounties, Sir, what can we say, But that we’re Dyvours that can ne’er repay? Whate’er your Honour wills, I shall obey. Roger, my Daughter, with my Blessing, take, 1950 And still our Master’s Right your Business make. Please him, be faithful, and this auld gray Head Shall nod with Quietness down amang the Dead. Rog. I ne’er was good a speaking a’ my Days, Or ever loo’d to make o’er great a Fraise: 1955 But for my Master, Father and my Wife, I will employ the Cares of all my Life. S. Will. My Friends, I’m satisfied you’ll all behave, Each in his Station, as I’d wish or crave. Be ever vertuous, soon or late ye’ll find 1960 Reward, and Satisfaction to your Mind. The Maze of Life sometimes looks dark and wild; And oft when Hopes are highest, we’re beguil’d: Aft, when we stand on Brinks of dark Despair, Some happy Turn with Joy dispells our Care. 1965 Now all’s at Rights, who sings best let me hear.

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Poems Peg. When you demand, I readiest should obey: I’ll sing you ane, the newest that I ha’e. Sings to the Tune of Corn-riggs are bonny. My Patie is a Lover gay, His Mind is never muddy; 1970 His Breath is sweeter than new Hay, His Face is fair and ruddy: His Shape is handsome, middle Size; He’s comely in his Wauking: The shining of his Een surprise; 1975 ’Tis Heaven to hear him tawking. Last Night I met him on a Bawk, Where yellow Corn was growing, There mony a kindly Word he spake, That set my Heart a glowing. 1980 He kiss’d, and vow’d he wad be mine, And loo’d me best of ony, That gars me like to sing since syne, O Corn-Riggs are bonny. Let Lasses of a silly Mind 1985 Refuse what maist they’re wanting; Since we for yielding were design’d, We chastly should be granting. Then I’ll comply, and marry Pate, And syne my Cockernonny 1990 He’s free to touzel air or late, Where Corn-riggs are bonny. Exeunt omnes.

To Mrs. A. C. A Song. To the Tune of, All in the Downs. When Beauty blazes heavenly bright, The Muse can no more cease to sing, Than can the Lark, with rising Light, Her Notes neglect with drooping Wing. The Morning shines, harmonious Birds mount hy; 5 The dawning Beauty smiles, and Poets fly. Young ANNIE’s budding Graces claim The inspir’d Thought, and softest Lays; And kindle in the Breast a Flame, Which must be vented in her Praise. 10 Tell us, ye gentle Shepherds, have you seen E’er one so like an Angel tread the Green. Ye Youth, be watchful of your Hearts; 424

To Mrs. A.C. When she appears, take the Alarm: Love on her Beauty points his Darts, 15 And wings an Arrow from each Charm. Around her Eyes and Smiles the Graces sport, And to her snowy Neck and Breasts resort. But vain must every Caution prove; When such enchanting Sweetness shines, 20 The wounded Swain must yield to Love, And wonder, tho’ he hopeless pines. Such Flames the foppish Butterfly shou’d shun; The Eagle’s only fit to view the Sun. She’s as the opening Lilly fair, 25 Her lovely Features are compleat; Whilst Heaven indulgent makes her share With Angels all that’s wise and sweet. These Vertues, which divinely deck her Mind, Exalt each Beauty of th’ inferior Kind. 30 Whether she love the rural Scenes, Or sparkle in the airy Town, O! happy he her Favour gains, Unhappy! if she on him frown. The Muse unwilling quits the lovely Theme, Adieu she sings, and thrice repeats her Name.

35

To Mrs. E. C. A Song. To the Tune of Tweed-side. Now Phœbus advances on hy; No Footsteps of Winter are seen; The Birds carrol sweet in the Sky, And Lambkins dance Reels on the Green. Thro’ Groves, and by Rivulets clear, 5 We wander for Pleasure and Health, Where Buddings and Blossoms appear, Giving Prospects of Joy and Wealth. View every gay Scene all around, That are, and that promise to be; 10 Yet in them all nothing is found So perfect, Elisa, as thee. Thine Eyes the clear Fountains excell; Thy Locks they out-rival the Grove; When Zephyrs these pleasingly swell, 15 425

Poems Each Wave makes a Captive to Love. The Roses and Lillies combin’d, And Flowers of most delicate Hue, By thy Cheek and thy Breasts are out-shin’d, Their Tinctures are nothing so true.

20

What can we compare with thy Voice, And what with thy Humour so sweet? No Musick can bless with such Joys; Sure Angels are just so compleat, Fair Blossom of every Delight, 25 Whose Beauties then thousands out-shine, Thy Sweets shall be lastingly bright, Being mixt with so many divine. Ye Powers, who have given such Charms To Elisa, your Image below, 30 O! save her from all humane Harms, And make her Hours happily flow.

To CALISTA: A Song, To the Tune of, I wish my Love were in a Mire. She sung, — the Youth Attention gave, And Charms on Charms espies; Then all in Raptures falls a Slave, Both to her Voice and Eyes. So spoke and smil’d the Eastern Maid, 5 Like thine, seraphick were her Charms, That in Circassia’s Vineyards stray’d, And blest the wisest Monarch’s Arms. A thousand fair of high Desert Strave to enchant the amorous King, 10 But the Circassan gain’d his Heart, And taught the Royal Bard to sing. Calista thus our Sang inspires, And claims the smooth and highest Lays; But while each Charm our Bosom fires, 15 Words seem too few to sound her Praise. Her Mind, in ev’ry Grace compleat, To paint, surpasses humane Skill, Her Majesty, mixt with the sweet; 426

To Calista Let Seraphs sing her if they will. Whilst wondring, with a ravish’t Eye; We all that’s perfect in her view, Viewing a Sister of the Sky, To whom an Adoration’s due.

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A S O N G.

Tune of Lochaber no more. Farewell to Lochaber, and farewell, my Jean, Where heartsome with thee I’ve mony Day been, For Lochaber no more, Lochaber no more, We’ll may be return to Lochaber no more. These Tears that I shed, they are a’ for my Dear, 5 And no for the Dangers attending on Weir, Tho’ bore on rough Seas to a far bloody Shore, May be to return to Lochaber no more. Tho’ Hurrycanes rise, and rise ev’ry Wind, They’ll ne’er make a Tempest like that in my Mind: 10 Tho’ loudest of Thunder on louder Waves roar, That’s nathing like leaving my Love on the Shore. To leave thee behind me, my Heart is sair pain’d. By Ease that’s inglorious no Fame can be gain’d; And Beauty and Love’s the Reward of the Brave, 15 And I must deserve it before I can crave. Then Glory, my Jeany, maun plead my Excuse; Since Honour commands me, how can I refuse? Without it I ne’er can have Merit for thee, And without thy Favour I’d better not be. I gae then, my Lass, to win Honour and Fame; And if I should luck to come gloriously hame, I’ll bring a Heart to thee with Love running o’er, And then I’ll leave thee and Lochaber no more.

20

Lass with a Lump of Land. Gi’e me a Lass with a Lump of Land, And we for Life shall gang thegither; Tho’ daft or wise I’ll never demand, Or black or fair it maksna whether. I’m aff with Wit, and Beauty will fade, 5 And Blood alane is no worth a Shilling; But she that’s rich, her Market’s made, For ilka Charm about her is killing. Gi’e me a Lass with a Lump of Land, 427

Poems And in my Bosom I’ll hug my Treasure; 10 Gin I had anes her Gear in my Hand, Shou’d Love turn dowf, it will find Pleasure. Laugh on wha likes, but there’s my Hand, I hate with Poortith, tho’ bonny, to meddle; Unless they bring Cash, or a Lump of Land, 15 They’se never get me to dance to their Fiddle. There’s meikle good Love in Bands and Bags, And Siller and Gowd’s a sweet Complection; But Beauty, and Wit, and Vertue in Rags, Have tint the Art of gaining Affection. Love tips his Arrows with Woods and Parks, And Castles, and Riggs, and Moors, and Meadows; And nathing can catch our modern Sparks, But well tocher’d Lasses, or jointer’d Widows.

20

Vertue and Wit,

The Preservatives of Love and Beauty. To the Tune of Gillikranky. To Mrs. K. H. Confess thy Love, fair blushing Maid; For since thine Eye’s consenting, Thy safter Thoughts are a’ betray’d, And Nasays no worth tenting. Why aims thou to oppose thy Mind, 5 With Words thy Wish denying? Since Nature made thee to be kind, Reason allows complying. Nature and Reason’s joint Consent Make Love a sacred Blessing; 10 Then happily that Time is spent, That’s war’d on kind caressing. Come then, my Katie, to my Arms, I’ll be nae mair a Rover, But find out Heaven in a’ thy Charms, 15 And prove a faithful Lover. SHE. What you design by Nature’s Law, Is fleeting Inclination; That Willy-Wisp bewilds us a’, By its Infatuation. 20 When that gaes out, Caresses tire, And Love’s nae mair in season; Syne weakly we blaw up the Fire, 428

Vertue and Wit With all our boasted Reason. HE. The Beauties of inferior Cast 25 May start this just Reflection; But Charms like thine maun always last, Where Wit has the Protection. Vertue and Wit, like April Rays, Make Beauty rise the sweeter: 30 The langer then on thee I gaze, My Love will grow compleater.

S O N G. To the Tune of, I’ll gar ye be fain to follow me. HE. Adieu for a while, my native green Plains, My nearest Relations, and neighbouring Swains, Dear Nelly, frae these I’d start easily free, Were Minutes not Ages while absent frae thee. SHE. Then tell me the Reason thou does not obey 5 The Pleadings of Love, but thus hurries away: Alake! thou Deceiver, o’er plainly I see, A Lover sae roving will never mind me. HE. The Reason unhappy is owing to Fate, That gave me a Being without an Estate, 10 Which lays a Necessity now upon me, To purchase a Fortune for Pleasure to thee. SHE. Small Fortune may serve where Love has the Sway: Then, Johny, be counsel’d nae langer to stray; For while thou proves constant in Kindness to me, 15 Contented I’ll ay find a Treasure in thee. HE. O cease, my dear Charmer, else soon I’ll betray A Weakness unmanly, and quickly give way To Fondness which may prove a Ruin to thee, A Pain to us baith, and Dishonour to me. Bear Witness, ye Streams, and witness, ye Flowers; Bear witness, ye watchful invisible Powers, If ever my Heart be unfaithful to thee, May nathing propitious e’er smile upon me. 429

20

Poems

S O N G.

We’ll a’ to Kelso go. Ann I’ll awa’ to bonny Tweed-side, And see my Deary come throw, And he sall be mine Gif sae he incline; 5 For I hate to lead Apes below. While young and fair, I’ll make it my Care, To secure my sell in a Jo; I’m no sic a Fool, 10 To let my Blood cool, And syne gae lead Apes below. Few Words, bonny Lad, Will eithly perswade, Tho’ blushing, I daftly say no, 15 Gae on with your Strain, And doubt not to gain; For I hate to lead Apes below. Unty’d to a Man, Do whate’er we can, 20 We never can thrive or dow: Then I will do well, Do better wha will, And let them lead Apes below. Our Time is precious, 25 And Gods are gracious, That Beauties upon us bestow; ’Tis not to be thought We got them for nought, Or to be set up for Show. 30 ’Tis carry’d by Votes, Come kilt up your Coats, And let us to Edinburgh go, Where she that’s bonny May catch a Johny, 35 And never lead Apes below.

The Widow. The Widow can bake, and the Widow can brew, The Widow can shape, and the Widow can shew, 430

The Widow And mony braw Things the Widow can do; Then have at the Widow, my Laddie. With Courage attack her baith early and late, 5 To kiss her and clap her ye mauna be blate: Speak well, and do better; for that’s the best Gate To win a young Widow, my Laddie. The Widow she’s youthfu’, and never ae Hair The war of the wearing, and has a good Skair 10 Of every thing lovely; she’s witty and fair, And has a rich Jointure, my Laddie. What cou’d ye wish better your Pleasure to crown, Than a Widow, the bonniest Toast in the Town, With nothing, but draw in your Stool, and sit down, 15 And sport with the Widow, my Laddie. Then till her, and kill her with Courtesy dead, Tho’ stark Love and Kindness be all ye can plead; Be heartsome and airy, and hope to succeed With a bonny gay Widow, my Laddie. Strike Iron while ’tis het, if ye’d have it to wald, For Fortune ay favours the Active and Bauld, But ruines the Woer that’s thowless and cauld, Unfit for the Widow, my Laddie.

20

The STEP-DAUGHTER’s Relief.

To the Tune of, The Kirk wad let me be. I was anes a well tocher’d Lass My Mither left Dollars to me; But now I’m brought to a poor Pass, My Step-dame has gart them flee. My Father he’s aften frae hame, 5 And she plays the Deel with his Gear; She neither has Lateth nor Shame, And keeps the hale House in a steer. She’s barmy fac’d, thriftless and bauld, And gars me aft fret and repine; 10 While hungry, haff naked and cauld, I see her destroy what’s mine: But soon I might hope a Revenge, And soon of my Sorrows be free, My Poortith to Plenty was change, 15 If she were hung-up on a Tree. Quoth Ringan, wha lang time had loo’d This bonny Lass tenderly, I’ll tak thee, sweet May, in thy Snood, Gif thou wilt gae hame with me, 20 431

Poems ’Tis only your sell that I want; Your Kindness is better to me, Than a’ that your Step-mother, scant Of Grace, now has taken frae thee. I’m but a young Farmer, ’tis true, 25 And ye are the Sprout of a Laird; But I have Milk-cattle enow, And Rowth of good Rucks in my Yard. Ye sall have nothing to fash ye; Sax Servants sall jouk to thee: 30 Then kilt up thy Coats, my Lassie, And gae thy ways hame with me. The Maiden her Reason employ’d, Not thinking the Offer amiss, Consented: — While Ringan o’erjoy’d, 35 Receiv’d her with mony a Kiss. And now she sits blythly singan, And joking her drunken Step-dame, Delighted with her dear Ringan, That makes her Goodwife at hame. 40

The Soger Laddie. My Soger Laddie is over the Sea, And he will bring Gold and Money to me; And when he comes hame, he’ll make me a Lady: My Blessing gang with my Soger Laddie. My doughty Laddie is handsome and brave, 5 And can as a Soger and Lover behave: True to his Country, to Love he is steady; There’s few to compare with my Soger Laddie, Shield him, ye Angels, frae Death in Alarms, Return him with Lawrels to my langing Arms, 10 Syne frae all my Care ye’ll pleasantly free me, When back to my Wishes my Soger ye gi’e me. O soon may his Honours bloom fair on his Brow, As quickly they must, if he gets his Due; For in noble Actions his Courage is ready, 15 Which makes me delight in my Soger Laddie.

432

NOTES to Poems (1721) To Mr. Allan Ramsay on his Poetical Works Text: Poems (1721). Title: The first four poems in the 1721 edition of Ramsay’s works are not by Ramsay but rather tributes in verse by admirers. This first encomium is by Josiah Burchett (1666?-1746), Secretary of the English Admiralty and author of A Complete History of the Most Remarkable Transactions at Sea (1720), the first history of the British Navy. Burchett was clerk to Samuel Pepys (16031703) and an elected Member of Parliament in 1705-13 and 1721-41. He wrote ‘To Mr. Allan Ramsay, on his Richy and Sandy’ alongside an ‘explanation’ of the poem, which appears in the 1719 and 1720 editions of ‘Richy and Sandy’ and is reproduced in the 1721 edition of Poems. Ramsay dedicated ‘Patie and Roger: A Pastoral’ to Burchett, as well as ‘To Josiah Burchet, Secretary of the Admiralty, with the First Scene of “The Gentle Shepherd”’ and ‘An Epistle to Josiah Burchet, on his Being Chosen Member of Parliament’. The STS editors state that Ramsay and Burchett quarrelled over the poet’s ‘On Receiving a Present of an Orange from Mrs G.L., now Countess of Aboyne’ (VI, p.210), after which Ramsay composed ‘A Reply to Critics’. In the MS copy of Ramsay’s ‘Health’, held at the Bodleian Library in Oxford, ‘A Reply to Critics’ is transcribed with the following note: ‘To this Josiah Burchet most uncourteously sent an answer, “As Juno chaste, as Venus kind,/She may have been who gave the fruit:/But had she had Minerva’s mind,/She ne’er had gi’ent to sic a brute!”’ It is not entirely clear, however, that this epigram constituted serious criticism of Ramsay by Burchett; rather, it may be a traditional Scottish ‘flyting’ between friends; a correspondence of witty insult. 1. ‘the Nine’: Muses of Greek mythology: Calliope, Clio, Erato, Euterpe, Melpomene, Polyhymnia, Terpsichore, Thalia and Urania. 2. ‘Horace’: Quintus Horatius Flaccus (65BC-8BC), principal Roman poet in the time of Augustus and author of Satires, Epistles and Epodes; ‘Virgil’: Publius Vergilius Maro (70BC-19BC), Roman poet of the Augustan period and author of Eclogues, Georgics and the Aeneid. 4. ‘Apollo’: Olympian deity and patron god of music and poetry. 7. Ramsay’s ‘The Morning Interview’. 16. Ramsay’s ‘Elegy on John Cowper, Kirk-Treasurer’s Man’. 22. Ramsay’s ‘Lucky Spence’s Last Advice’. 37. Ramsay’s ‘Tartana, or, The Plaid’. 62. Ramsay’s ‘The Lass of Peattie’s Mill’. 80. ‘Royal James’: Burchet refers to Ramsay’s version of Christ’s Kirk on the Green and ascribes the original to an unspecified King James. The Bannatyne MS, in which Ramsay first saw the poem, attributes the poem to James I (1394-1437), whereas later scholars identify the author as James V (1512-42). Ramsay’s own misperception about the poem’s authorship and Burchet’s lack of specificity may imply contemporary confusion over attribution. See also notes to Ramsay’s ‘Christ’s Kirk on the Green’. 86. ‘Butler’: Samuel Butler (bap.1613-80), author of the satirical poem, Hudibras 433

Poems (1663-78). 86. ‘Ralpho’: Squire Ralpho of Butler’s Hudibras. 94. ‘Addie’: familiarisation of Joseph Addison (1672-1719), poet, playwright, essayist and co-editor, with Richard Steele, of The Spectator. To the Author Text: Poems (1721). 8. ‘Flora’: Roman goddess of flowering and fruiting plants, and a symbol of springtime and fertility; ‘parterre’: a level space in a garden reserved for flowering plants. ‘C. T.’: unidentified. Ramsay reprints ‘To the Author’ in the second edition of his Tartana, or the Plaid (1719). To Mr. Allan Ramsay Text: Poems (1721). Author: Charles Beckingham (1699-?1731), English poet and dramatist and author of Scipio Africanus (1718), a tragedy based on the story of classical Roman historian Livy. To Mr. Allan Ramsay on the Publication of his Poems Text: Poems (1721). Author: James Arbuckle (d.1742), poet and essayist, probably born in Belfast. Author of the mock-heroic Snuff (1719), An Epistle to Thomas, Earl of Haddington, on the death of Joseph Addison, Esq. (1719) and verses on the river Clyde entitled Glotta: A Poem (1721), he was also a contributor to the Edinburgh Miscellany of 1721 and columnist for the Dublin Journal. His writings for the latter paper were published as Hibernicus’s Letters (172527): this publication also contains early writings by the poet Thomas Parnell (1679-1718) and Enlightenment philosopher Francis Hutcheson (16941746). According to the STS editors, Arbuckle ‘took part in a production of Tamerlane in Glasgow, for which he incurred the wrath of the University authorities – who had been satirised in a Prologue and Epilogue’ (VI, p.209). Ramsay’s ‘An Epistle to Mr. James Arbuckle’ demonstrates their continuing relationship. 2. ‘Bays’: in ancient Greece, poets laureate were crowned with a bay laurel wreath. 6. ‘Pegasus’: winged stallion of Greek mythology associated with the Muses, having created Mount Helicon’s Hippocrene fountain. 25. Ramsay’s ‘Elegy on Maggy Johnston’. 26. Ramsay’s ‘Patie and Roger’. 40. ‘Pope’: Alexander Pope (1688-1744), English poet famed for satirical poems, such as Essay on Criticism (1711), Rape of the Lock (1712-14) and The Dunciad (1728-43); he also translated Homer’s Iliad (1715-20) and Odyssey (1726). 434

Notes to Poems 1721 The Morning Interview Text: Poems (1721). No MS. First published as The Battel: Or, Morning-Interview. An Heroi-Comical Poem (Edinburgh, 1716), in a second edition as The Morning-Interview. An HeroiComical Poem (Edinburgh, 1719), and among other Ramsay poems in a text ‘Printed for the Author’, in Edinburgh in 1720. This latter publication misspells Ramsay’s forename as ‘Alan’ and features 40 pages of verse, including ‘Edinburgh’s Address to the Country’, ‘Written Beneath the Historical Print of Mr David Bruce’, ‘Elegy on Maggy Johnston’, ‘Elegy on John Cowper’, ‘Elegy on Lucky Wood’ and ‘Lucky Spence’s Last Advice’. Another printing of the poem, published ‘for the Author’ in a pamphlet containing twenty-four pages of verse, was also released in 1720; this publication appears to be the same as the forty-page edition published in the same year, but without the Elegies and ‘Lucky Spence’s Last Advice’. The 24-page printing of 1720 is therefore not treated as a separate edition here. The first edition (1716) features the following Advertisement: This City, as Narrow as it is, is the Scene of many Adventures, which may be proper Subject for both Poet and Philosopher: But the Humour of undervaluing home=Manufactory, discourages Publications. I shall make no more Apology for my Poem, than a short Account of the Birth of it shall afford. — I have naturally an Itch of Rhiming, which I gratify, sometimes for my own Satisfaction, and the Diversion of a few Intimates. When I shew’d the first Sketch of the Following, to one of my Friends, who well deserves the Honour of Patron of most of ^my Performances, he was pleas’d to say, That there were some Strokes in it, which discovered more of a Poetic Genius, and of the Humour of Gallantry, than any Thing I had written; and encouraged me to carry the Design a little further. As I have a great respect for his Judgement, and as great a Share of Vanity and Conceit as any of my Contemporaries, I was easily persuaded, and, with his Help, rectified some Errors had escaped me in the first Draughts. He tells me of some Faults yet, which I am unwilling to confess, not knowing well how to mend them. However, if my Readers shall agree with him, and be so kind as to inform me in a civil Way, I shall do what I can, by the Help of their Criticism, to verify the Title of Corrected and Amended, in a Second Edition. The ‘Second Edition’ projected by Ramsay is the text published in 1719; his ‘Patron’ is probably John Forbes, son of Sir David Forbes of Newhall, thanks to a MS note on the BL’s copy of the 1716 edition which reads, ‘Jo. F----s’. Gibson concurs with the identification of Ramsay’s patron as Forbes; the STS editors suggest ‘John Fergus the secretary of the Easy Club’ (VI, p.23). Title: ‘The Morning-Interview’ (1716, 1719) [not ‘The Morning Interview’] Motto: Edmund Waller, ‘The Triple Combat’ (1690), ll.35-38. 2. ‘Oyl’ (1716, 1719, 1720) [not ‘Oil’] 3. ‘Harmonious Sounds now echo in each Grove’ (1716, 1719) [not ‘Harmonious Musick gladdens ev’ry Grove,’] 435

Poems 4. ‘Of bleating Lambs, who from their Parents rove,’ (1716, 1719), ‘Lambs who from their Parents rove;’ (1720) [not ‘While bleating Lambkins from their Parents rove,’] 5. ‘While o’er the Plain the anxious Dames do stray,’ (1716, 1719, 1720) [not ‘And o’er the Plain the anxious Mothers stray,’] 6. ‘Bae:’ (1719) [not ‘Bae.’] 7. ‘Now cheerful Zypher from the Western Sky,’ (1716, 1719), ‘Now cheerful Zephyr from the Western Sky,’ (1720) [not ‘Now cheerful Zephyr from the Western Skies’] 8. ‘With easy Scud, o’er painted Fields does fly,’ (1716, 1719, 1720) [not ‘With easy Flight o’er painted Meadows flies,’] 11. ‘When from Debauch, with sp’rituous Juice oppress’d,’ (1716, 1719) [not ‘When from Debauch with sp’rituous Juice opprest,’] 12. ‘Bacchus’: Roman god of fertility, farming and wine. 15. ‘Morning-Dew,’ (1716, 1719) [not ‘morning Dew,’] 42. ‘perfumed Dust:’ (1716, 1719, 1720) [not ‘perfuming Dust;’] 45. ‘Ere all’s perform’d he’s almost choak’d to Death,’ (1716, 1719), ‘performed’ (1720); [not ‘E’er this perform’d he’s almost chok’d to Death,’] 47. ‘So does the Traveller through Lybia’s Plain,’ (1716, 1719, 1720) [not ‘The Trav’ler thus in the Numidian Plains,’] ‘Numidia’ (202-40 BC): ancient Berber kingdom in what is now Algeria, Tunisia, Libya and Morocco. 55. ‘Jove’s sea-daughter’: Aphrodite, Greek goddess of love, believed to have been born in the seafoam off the coast of Cytherea. 65. ‘In Plaids muff’d up, Prudes throng the sacred Dome,’ (1716, 1719), ‘Dome’ (1720) [not ‘In Plaids wrapt up, Prudes throng the sacred Dome,’] 69. ‘A sportive Sylph does lay’ (1716, 1719, 1720) [not ‘A sportive Sylph contrives’] 70. ‘Such’ (1716, 1719, 1720) [not ‘Sylphs’] 74. ‘do’ (1716, 1719, 1720) [not ‘the’] 75. ‘Aulus’: Aulus Gellius (c.125-180), Latin author and grammarian who served as a symbol of justice. 77. ‘Amidst a Square which does amaze the Sight,’ (1716, 1719, 1720) [not ‘Amidst a lofty Square which strikes the Sight,’] 80. ‘Nether-Sky.’ (1716, 1719), ‘nether Sky:’ (1720) [not ‘nether Sky;’] 81. ‘Where once Alas’: Edinburgh’s Parliament Square, once the seat of the Scottish Parliament, and where a statue of Charles II stands, not in brass, but lead; ‘Three Estates’: orders of social hierarchy used in Europe from the medieval to the early modern period. 83. ‘tither did’ (1716, 1719, 1720) [not ‘and here did’] 104. ‘wants Revenge:’ (1716, 1719) [not ‘want Revenge;’] 114. ‘Fabius’: Quintus Fabius Maximus Verrucosus (c.280-203BC), Roman statesman and general surnamed ‘Cuncator’, thanks to his strategy against Hannibal’s forces in the Second Punic War. 115. ‘Bruce’: Robert I (1274-1329): King of Scots from 1306 until 1329; ‘Wallace’: Sir William Wallace (1270-1305), Scottish knight; both led Scotland in the First War of Scottish Independence. 136. ‘Honi soit qui mal y pense’: motto of the Order of the Garter, translated as 436

Notes to Poems 1721 ‘shamed be (the person) who thinks evil of it’. 144. ‘Oval Conick’ (1716, 1719) [not ‘oval conick’] 152. ‘Bickerstaff’: Isaac Bickerstaff, fictitious editor of and contributor to Richard Steele’s periodical, The Tatler; also Ramsay’s initial pseudonym as member of the Easy Club. 164. ‘Shock’: Belinda’s lapdog in Alexander Pope’s mock-heroic poem, The Rape of the Lock (1712-14). 172. ‘Europa’s Sake’: the classical myth that Europa was abducted by Zeus when he was disguised as a bull. 179. ‘Ascanius’: son of Aeneas and king of Alba Longa. 180. ‘Dally’d and ruin’d the Carthaginian Queen.’ (1716, 1719); ‘Dally’d,’ (1720) [not ‘Of old deceiv’d the Carthaginian Queen.’] ‘Carthaginian Queen’: Dido, founder of Carthage; in Virgil’s Aeneid she falls in love with Aeneas and commits suicide after he abandons her at Jupiter’s command. 184. ‘wheezing’ (1716) [not ‘whizzing’] 191. ‘How does your Splendor swell the Female’s Pride,’ (1716, 1719, 1720) [not ‘How can your Splendor easy Access find,’] 192. ‘When o’er their Minds such Gawdry does preside?’ (1716, 1719), ‘preside!’ (1720) [not ‘And gently captivate the fair one’s Mind?’] 197. ‘The sanguine Streams, in Blushes no more glow,’ (1716, 1719) [not ‘No more the sanguine Streams in Blushes glow,’] 200. A stanza break is inserted in 1716, 1719 and 1720, which is not preserved in 1721. 207. ‘hackney’: hack writer. 208. ‘Foot-washing’: eighteenth-century Scottish ritual performed on the eve of a wedding, where the bride’s feet are washed in a tub of water by her female friends. The groom is thereafter made to sit in the tub, and his legs are smeared with soot and ashes. 213. ‘Limberham’: John Dryden’s play, Mr. Limberham; or, the Kind Keeper (1680). 226. ‘If words did pass’ (1716, 1719, 1720) [not ‘If Language pass’d’] 229. ‘did end’ (1716, 1719, 1720) [not ‘finisht’] 234. ‘So, by Degrees, the Eagle learns her Young’ (1716), ‘So, by Degrees, the Eagles teach their Young’ (1719; 1720) [not ‘So by Degrees the Eagles teach their Young’] 236. ‘Treat does crown the ended War,’ (1716, 1719, 1720) [not ‘Entertainment crowns the War,’] 241. ‘That Light through the transparent Jar does shine,’ (1716, 1719, 1720) [not ‘That Rays through the transparent Vessels shine;’ 263. ‘English Rhime.’ (1716, 1719, 1720) [not ‘British Rhime.’] [271] ‘Adieu’ (1716); subsequent editions end at line 270. Elegy on Maggy Johnston, who died Anno 1711 Text: Poems (1721). MS: EUL (Laing II.212, f.10), non-autograph, in the hand of John Fergus. No holograph MS. 437

Poems ‘Elegy on Maggy Johnston, who died Anno 1711’ is one of Ramsay’s earliest compositions and dates to the period of his Easy Club membership. The Club was founded on 12 May 1712, and ‘Elegy on Maggy Johnston’ is referenced in the Easy Club Journal on 6 June, 1 July and 4 July 1712 (STS, V, 13-14). A holograph MS has not survived. According to IELM, two MS transcriptions of the poem were prepared: only one has been located, and there is evidence to suggest that only one existed. A non-holograph transcription of the poem features in the Sotheby’s Catalogue for 26 and 27 July 1907: ‘His 1st Performance Maggie Johnstoun’s Elegy, as enlarged and corrected by him, July 30, 1713, (sixteen 5 line verses on four-and-a-half pages)’ (Sotheby’s Catalogue, Vol. 1077, pp.51-52). The description of this lot suggests that it is the MS which is collected among Easy Club papers in EUL’s Laing Collection. IELM proposes that one other MS transcription of the poem was reportedly found in the appendix of the Easy Club Journal; however, thanks to the loss of the Journal, this MS has not been located. Similarities in the descriptions of the two reported MSS in IELM suggest that only one MS existed, and that it is the MS held in the Laing collection: in both cases, the transcription was made by Easy Club secretary ‘George Buchanan’ (John Fergus), both purport to be ‘corrected’ by the poet, and to constitute a second edition. The Laing MS has an additional stanza, placed at ll.13-18 and making a total of sixteen, which does not appear in printed versions of the poem, which are all fifteen stanzas long. Although its contents are probably reliable, the Easy Club Journal has been discounted as a legitimate MS source for Ramsay’s poems, thanks to its unreliable provenance: in Vol. IV of their edition, STS editors utilise a transcription of Gibson’s transcription of the now-lost original MS for their copy-text of the Journal, thus diluting its provenance and textual credibility. However, the MS held in EUL’s Laing collection, as prepared by Ramsay’s fellow Easy Club member ‘George Buchanan’, has a known connection to Ramsay, and is thus included in the collation of variants below as an early, non-holograph witness. Until recently, the earliest extant printing of the poem was thought to be Elegies on Maggy Johnston, John Cowper, and Lucky Wood. By Allan Ramsay. Second Edition corrected and amended (Edinburgh, 1718); the implied first edition was regarded as having been lost. A broadside which may be the first edition has been located. It was always known that a ‘first’ edition of the elegy had been produced prior to 1718: the printing of Ramsay’s elegies published in that year advertises that The Morning Interview, Edinburgh’s Address to the Country, Christ’s Kirk on the Green and ‘the Three Elegies’ are ‘to be had at the Mercury’ (p.20) and, as outlined above, the Easy Club Journal refers to a printed copy in circulation as early as 1712. A single-sheet publication, discovered in Edinburgh’s Signet Library and entitled ‘An ELEGY On the very much Lamented Death of Maggie Johnston’, may be the first printing of the poem. In ‘The First Edition of Allan Ramsay’s Elegy on Maggy Johnston’ (Scottish Literary Review 11:2 (Winter 2019, pp.31-39), Adam Fox states that this version of the text, which is ‘printed on a half sheet’, ‘must have been the text referred to in the “Journal of the Easy Club” in the summer of 1712 and which prefigured the second edition transcribed into its appendix’ (p.33) by ‘George Buchanan’. Fox therefore dates this single-sheet publication to 1712. 438

Notes to Poems 1721 This text constitutes a prototype of the elegy as it appears in Poems (1721): it consists of eleven stanzas rather than the fifteen printed in 1721, made up five lines each rather than the six-line stanza form to which the poem finally evolved. ‘Elegy on Maggy Johnston’ was printed for a third time in broadside in c.1719 alongside the elegies on John Cowper and Lucky Wood and ‘Lucky Spence’s Last Advice’. This edition lacks a title page. As with the 1718 printing, it varies in a number of ways from the 1721 copy-text; these variations are recorded below. Martin records a further printing, which he dates tentatively to 1720, and which also features the elegies on John Cowper and Lucky Wood and ‘Lucky Spence’s Last Advice’. Only Photostats of the title and end pages of this edition have survived, but these show that it bears the same pagination (pp.25-28) as the probably unauthorised 1720 ‘gather-up’ edition. The STS editors state that ‘this edition had been prepared in part for Poems, 1720’ (VI, p.3), but it is equally possible that the collector cut ‘Elegy on Maggy Johnston’ out of the ‘gather-up’ publication. It is not regarded as a separate edition here. Title: ‘An ELEGY On the very much Lamented Death of Maggie Johnston.’ (1712), ‘Maggie Johnstons elegy | 2.d Edition Enlarged and Corrected | By ye Author — | July 30. 1713 —’ (MS) [not ‘Elegy on Maggy Johnston, who died Anno 1711.’] 1-6. The first edition of the poem, printed in c.1712, features these lines in place of the six-line stanza as printed in Poems (1721): Auld Riekie mourn in Sable Hew, To Brave Tippony bid adiew, which we with Greed Drank out, as fast as she could Brew. but ah ! she’s Dead. 1. ‘Auld Reekie mourn in Sable Hew,’ (MS) [not ‘Auld Reeky mourn in Sable Hue,’] ‘Auld Reekie’: familiar term for Edinburgh, meaning ‘Old Smoky’. 2. ‘fowth’ (MS) [not ‘Fouth’] 3. ‘Tiponny’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘Tippony’] 7-12. In place of the six-line stanza in Poems (1721), the first edition (1712) has: Some say, it was the Effects of Broom, (That in our Heads rais’d such a Foom) or some wild Seed, Which aft the Chapen Stoup did toom, but fill’d our head. A variation of ll.67-72 of the poem as it is published in 1721 appears at ll.7-12 in the MS, as follows: Some Say it was th’effects of broom which she stow’d in her Masking-loom, That in our heads rais’d such a foom Or some wild seed Which aft the Chappin Stoup did toom But fill’d our head 7. ‘To tell ye truth now Maggie dang,’ (MS) [not ‘To tell the Truth now Maggy dang,’] 13-18. The third stanza as printed in 1721 is preceded in the Laing MS by these 439

Poems unpublished lines: Frae what blae spite I cannot tell Others assert she had a spell To garr her Nappie liquor sell Wi currant speed But ah Now’s drain’d yt bowsing well Since she is dead In addition, ll.13-18 in Poems (1721) are replaced by the following stanza in (1712): Others assert, she had a Spell, To make her Humming Liquor sell with Currant speed. But ah! now’s drain’d that Bouzing Well, since she is dead. 13. ‘be dozens’ (MS) [not ‘by Dizens’] 14. ‘and sweetly ca’d ye healths abown’ (MS) [not ‘Syne sweetly ca’d the Healths arown,’] 16. ‘lik’d’ (MS) [not ‘loo’d] 17. ‘In bumpers we our care’ (MS) [not ‘In Bumpers we dull cares’] 19-24. The stanza as printed in 1721 is replaced by the following in 1712: Then, must we lose the Knowledge fine? Or hast thou left to Heirs of thine the subtile way, Of brewing Ale as brisk as Wine, that made us gay? 20. ‘And took a waak in bruntsfield links’ (MS), ‘o’re’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘And took a Turn o’er Bruntsfield Links,’] 21. ‘Aften in Maggy’s at high jinks’ (MS), ‘Aften, in MAGGY’s, at Hy-jinks’ (1719) [not ‘Aften in Maggy’s at Hy-jinks,’] 22. ‘guzled’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘guzl’d] 23. ‘hail’ (MS) [not ‘hale’] 25-30. The stanza as printed in 1721 is replaced by the following in 1712: When we ga’d o’re Burntsfield Links, Aften in Maggie’s at Hy Jinks, we guzzel’d Scuds, Till we cou’d scarce, wi’ hail Out_drinks, cast aff our Dudds. 25. ‘Then we cry’d we fill ye quaff again’ (MS) [not ‘We drank and drew, and fill’d again,’] 26. ‘And wow’ (MS) [not ‘O wow’] 27. ‘Whane… mistane’ (MS) [not ‘When… mistain,’] 29. ‘To hear us aw cry pike your bane’ (MS) [not ‘To hear us a’ cry, Pike ye’r Bain’] 30. ‘your’ (MS) [not ‘ye’r’] 31-36. The stanza as printed in 1721 is replaced by these lines in 1712: And wow but we war blyth and fain’ Whan ony had their Count mistane, O ! it was Nice, 440

Notes to Poems 1721 To hear us all cry, Pike your Bane, and spell your Dice. 31. ‘In Maggie’s we us’d to drink and Rant’ (MS) [not ‘Fou closs we us’d to drink and rant,’] 34. ‘Full swash I trow’ (MS), ‘trew’ (1718), ‘trow’ (1719) [not ‘Right swash I true;’] 37-42. The stanza as printed in 1721 is replaced by the following in 1712: In Maggie’s we us’d to Drink and Rant Untill we did baith Glow’r and gant, full swash I trow, Then of Auld Stories we did Cant, Whan we were fow. 37. ‘quhan we ware wearied at ye gowf’ (MS), ‘Gouff’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘Whan we were weary’d at the Gowff,’] 38. ‘Maggie Johnstowns’ (MS), ‘Houff’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘Maggy Johnston’s was our Houff.’] 39. ‘Now all our gamesters may sing douf’ (MS), ‘douff’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘Now a’ our Gamesters may sit dowff,’] 41. ‘Youff’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘Yowff’] 42. ‘die’d’ (1718) [not ‘died’] 43-48. This stanza as printed in 1721 is replaced by the following in 1712: When we war weary’d at the Gouff, Then Maggy Johnston’s was our Houff, whare we did feed. Now all our Gamesters may sing Douff since she is Dead. 43. ‘Mawn we be forc’d the art to tyne’ (MS), ‘tine’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘Maun we be forc’d thy Skill to tine?’] 44. ‘repine?’ (1719) [not ‘repine;’] 45. ‘heirs of thine’ (MS) [not ‘Bairns of thine’] 47. ‘ale as brisk as wyne’ (MS) [not Ale amaist like Wine?’] 48. ‘crack?’ (1719) [not ‘crack.’] 49-54. The stanza as printed in 1721 is replaced by the following in 1712: But now, Dear Maggie, sen we must When we are Breathless, turn to Dust, without remead. Why shou’d we take it in Disgust, that thou art Dead. 50. ‘biz in ye quaff and flee ye frost’ (MS) [not ‘Biz i’ the Queff, and flie the Frost;’] 53. ‘wae-worth’ (1718) [not ‘wae worth’] 55-60. This stanza is replaced by the following in 1712: Thou liv’d a lang and hearty Life, Right free of Care, or Toyl, or Strife, till thou wast stale; And kenn’d to be a Kanny Wife, for making Ale. 55. ‘summers night’ (MS) [not ‘Simmer Night’] 441

Poems 56. ‘Amang ye Rigs I ga’de to spew’ (MS), ‘gae’d’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘Amang the Riggs I geed to spew;’] 57. ‘back’ (MS), ‘Bauk I trew.’ (1718), ‘Bawk I trow.’ (1719) [not ‘Bawk, I trow.’] 59. ‘sough’d aw night ba-lily-low’ (MS) [not ‘soucht a’ Night Balillilow,’] 61-66. This stanza is replaced by the following in 1712, where it is the final (eleventh) stanza: Than farewell Maggy Duce and Fell, Let all your Gossips yelp and yell, and without fead, Guess whether ye did ill or well, they’re sure you’r Dead. 61. ‘Then quhan ye day began to glow,’ (MS) [not ‘And whan the Dawn begoud to glow,’] 64. ‘frae mang ye corn yt high did grow’ (MS), ‘Wirry-Kow’ (1718), ‘Wirry-kow’ (1719) [not ‘Frae ’mang the Corn like Wirricow,’] 65. ‘I Kend na mare than if a yew’ (MS); ‘And ken’d nae mair, than if a Ew’ (1719) [not ‘And ken’d nae mair than if a Ew’] 67. ‘say it was th’effects’ (MS) [not ‘said it was the Pith’] (See Note to ll.7-12 above.) 68. ‘which’ (MS); ‘Masking Loom’ (1718) [not ‘That she stow’d in her Maskingloom’] (See Note to ll.7-12 above.) 69. ‘That’ (MS) [not ‘Which’] (See Note to ll.7-12) 71. ‘Chappin’ (MS) [not ‘Chaping’] (See Note to ll.7-12) 73. ‘its’ (MS), ‘it’s’ (1718) [not ‘’tis’] 78. ‘that she is dead’ (MS), ‘that Maggy’s dead?’ (1719) [not ‘that Maggy’s dead.’] 84. ‘for’ (MS) [not ‘At’] 86. ‘of brewers aw she bore the bell’ (MS) [not ‘Of Brewers a’ thou boor the Bell;’] 88. ‘fead’ (MS) [not ‘Feed,’] 89. ‘ye’r’ (1718) [not ‘ye’re’] Epitaph: ‘O ! Rare Maggy Johnston.’ (1712) [not ‘O Rare Maggy Johnston.’] Elegy on John Cowper Kirk-Treasurer’s Man, Anno 1714 Text: Poems (1721). No MS. First publication in Elegies on Maggy Johnston, John Cowper, And Lucky Wood (Edinburgh, 1718), which is described as the ‘Second Edition corrected and amended’. The ‘first’ edition has not been located. It was again published in a pamphlet dated tentatively to 1719 by Martin, alongside the elegies on Maggy Johnston and Lucky Wood, as well as ‘Lucky Spence’s Last Advice’. The latter publication lacks a title page. The STS editors suggest that, although Cowper died in 1714, the postscript in the 1718 edition, which states that the poem was ‘Occasion’d by John’s being frequently seen by several People, who can declare the samen upon Oath, June 1717’, dates the poem to 1717. This may be the case, but it is equally possible that the poem was written in 1714 as a response to Cowper’s death, and the postscript added in 1717 at reports of his 442

Notes to Poems 1721 ghostly wanderings. 1. ‘a’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘a’’] 5. ‘Sculdudrey’ (1718) [not ‘Sculdudry’] 10. ‘flee’d’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘fleed’] 19. ‘Altho’’ (1718) [not ‘Altho’] 23. ‘Geer’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘Gear’] 25. ‘But now’ (1718) [not ‘Ay now’] 26. ‘Alas! he’s gane and left it a’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘Alas he’s gane and left it a’!’] 27. ‘Whilliwha’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘Whilliwhaw’] 29. ‘It’s’ (1718) [not ‘’Tis’] 32. ‘John’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘poor John’] 37. ‘He ken’d the Bawds and Lowns fou weell,’ (1718) [not ‘He kend the Bawds and Louns fou well,’] 38. ‘reell’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘reel’] 39. ‘steall’ (1718) [not ‘steal’] 41. ‘Deell’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘De’ll’] 43. ‘ne’re’ (1718), ‘nee’r’ (1719) [not ‘ne’er’] 50. ‘niest’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘neist’] 51. ‘lown’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘low’n’] 55. ‘Jad’ (1718) [not ‘Jade’] 62. ‘Waks around,’ (1718), ‘Waks arown,’ (1719) [not ‘Wakes arown,’] 64. ‘Loun’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘Lown’] 67. ‘Death!’ (1719) [not ‘Death,’] 71. ‘To die I’m sure he was right laith’ (1719) [not ‘To quat the Grip he was right laith’] 73. Before the postscript, 1718 has an additional note: ‘Occasion’d by John’s being frequently seen by several people, who can declare the samen upon Oath. June 1717.’ 77. ‘gee’ (1719) [not ‘gi’e] 79. ‘Styl’ (1718), ‘Style’ (1719) [not ‘Stile’] Elegy on Lucky Wood in the Canongate, May 1717 Text: Poems (1721). MS: EUL (JA 2035), fair copy corrected on fly-leaves [3-4] of a copy of James Watson’s Choice Collection of Comic and Serious Poems (1706). First publication in Elegies on Maggy Johnston, John Cowper, and Lucky Wood (Edinburgh, 1718), the ‘Second Edition corrected and amended’. The first edition has not been traced. The poem was later printed in c.1718 in a single-sheet broadside: Martin considers this to be a piracy, given the extensive corruption of the text; we agree that it should not be treated as an authorised edition. The poem was subsequently published in Elegies on Maggy Johnston, John Cowper, and Lucky Wood, Lucky Spence’s Last Advice, a pamphlet dated tentatively to 1719, which lacks a title page. Title: ‘ELEGY | ON | Lucky WOOD in the | Canongate. | May, 1717.’ (MS), ‘An Elegy on Lucky Wood’ (1718) [not ‘ELEGY on Lucky WOOD IN THE Canongate, May 1717’] 1. ‘Cannygate’ (MS), ‘Elritch’ (1718), ‘Cannigate’ (1719) [not ‘O Cannigate ! poor 443

Poems elritch’] ‘Cannigate’: Canongate, a district of Edinburgh which was, in Ramsay’s time, a semi-autonomous burgh with its own administration of bailies. 3. ‘London, & Death makes thee look droll’ (MS) [not ‘London and Death gars thee look drole’] 5. ‘e’ne a cald coal’ (MS), ‘e’ne’ (1718) [not ‘e’en a cauld Coal’] 9. ‘that aa way ken’ (MS), ‘that a may ken’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘that a’ may ken’] 10. ‘waefull’ (MS) [not ‘waefou’] 13. ‘ou’re’ (MS) [not ‘o’er’] 16. ‘rive’ (MS) [not ‘rugg’] 17. ‘we’le’ (MS) [not ‘we’ll’] 18. ‘our hearts are sair’ (MS) [not ‘For evermair.’] 21. ‘peuter’ (MS); ‘Pewther’ (1718) [not ‘Peuther’] 25. ‘gud’ (MS) [not ‘good’] 26. ‘Boord fire-side’ (MS, 1718, 1719) [not ‘Her Boord, Fire-side’] 31. ‘ne’re’ (1718) [not ‘ne’er’] 33. ‘Waus’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘Waw’s,’] 45. ‘e’re’ (1719) [not ‘e’re’] 47. ‘Bawm’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘Baum?’] 49. ‘fu’ (1719) [not ‘fow’] ‘writer’: eighteenth-century term for a legal clerk or solicitor. 53. ‘match’ (MS) [not ‘Make’] 56. ‘snishing mill’: snuff box. 57. ‘Not often cost us many a Gill’ (MS), ‘Which after cost us mony a Gill’ (1718), ‘ne’er’ (1719) [not ‘Good Cakes we wanted ne’er at Will,’] 60. ‘The best of Bread’ (MS, 1719) [not ‘To Aikenhead.’] 67. ‘its’ (MS), ‘it’s’ (1718) [not ‘’tis’] 71. ‘spier’ (MS) [not ‘spear’] 74. ‘lyes’ (MS) [not ‘Lies’] 76. ‘Who nae sweer,’ (MS) [not ‘Wha was na sweer,’] 77. ‘while she liv’d here’ (MS) [not ‘While she winn’d here,’] Lucky Spence’s Last Advice Text: Poems (1721). No MS. Three single sheet broadside versions of the poem have been traced, one of which lacks a title page; the other two are entitled ‘Lucky Spence’s last Advice’. We concur with Gibson, who states that the copy held by Queen’s University, Belfast, which is undated and made up of four pages, was printed by William Adams Junior, Ramsay’s printer before he began working with Thomas Ruddiman in 1718. This broadside is, therefore, tentatively dated 1718. Two additional, undated broadside copies are held by the NLS. The poem was subsequently printed in Elegies on Maggy Johnston, John Cowper, and Lucky Wood, Lucky Spence’s Last Advice (c.1719). The poem has a sombre parallel in a probably contemporary but undated broadside, entitled ‘The Whores of Edinburgh’s Lament for Want of Luckie Spence’, which reads as follows: 444

Notes to Poems 1721 Twice Sixteen Years hath over past, Once sixteen more may prove our last, Our Tender Years in Lucky’s service spent, So pleasantly we can scarce Repent, But new she’s Dead, she shall for ever Groan, And her sad Fate shall be just cause to moan, How Tedious now our Lives are grown, The way to Death how hard and long, How Dark the Dungon, the Irons how strong, Which may our undaunted Souls keep down, Be Stoop’d O! Abby, hing thy drowping Head, For Spence thy be: Bankrupt now is Dead. May that Hour pass, and it’s hasty Flight, Be still Retarded by the Slugish Night. As then it was when Luckie did Depart, Then Dismal were we, saw no Joys, No cheerful shouts, but a Dismal Noise, Of Groans and Sighs when her parting Soul Tryed in vain her desteny to Controll, Oh! had it never been, nor had that Hour But Barr’d the Gate, and Dem’d the Fatal Dour, Oh! unhappy Gate, but more unhappy Hour, But stay my Muse her Fun’ral to survey, And all there Rits perform’d do display, Luckie’s best Friends who to her used to go, All as they went their joint Tears did bestow, There were of them who clam’d a share, By Luckies Friendship in the pious Care, Were all the Company they who alone. Knew and Judged each Sorrows by their own, For we still restless and mournful grew, And every Day our griefs renew.

5

10

15

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25

30

LUCKIE’S LAST WORDS Is this thy sight O! Death, is this the way? I must return to Dust there’s no Delay, Revoluing thy sharp Sentance past, 35 How soon have I Approacht my last, An End e’re thought on is on me come, Unawars reacht Natures farest home. Ah! now I to the Grave must go, No more of Life, nor of it’s pleasurs know. 40 The NLS broadsides are indicated by ‘b1’ and ‘b2’ in the list of variants. 2. ‘from’ (1718) [not ‘frae’] 3. ‘baudy’ (1719) [not ‘bawdy’] 13. ‘O Clapet Bess and Shanker Meg,’ (1718, b1), ‘O clappet Bess, and shanker Meg,’ (b2) [not ‘O black Ey’d Bess, and mim Mou’d Meg,’] 445

Poems Cf. Ramsay’s ‘The Marrow Ballad’, ll.9-10: ‘And there will be blinkan eyed Bessy/blyth Baby, and sweet lipet Megg’. 36. ‘lys… Bank-Notes.’ (1718), ‘Lies… Bank-notes.’ (1719) [not ‘Lie great BankNotes.’] 37. ‘whindging’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘whinging’] 38. ‘cutty stool’: used for public penance for sex outwith marriage in the eighteenth-century Church of Scotland; an offender would stand on the stool before the congregation. 39. ‘Mettal’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘Metal’] 41. ‘Kirk-Boxes’ (b1) [not ‘Kirk-Boxie’] 43. ‘daut’ (1718, 1719, b1, b2) [not ‘dawt’] ‘Red Coats’: member of the British Army. 45. ‘houp’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘hope’] 59. ‘it’s’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘’tis’] 62. ‘Milkwhyt’ (1718), ‘Milkwhite’ (1719) [not ‘Milk-white’] 64. ‘faws’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘Faw’] 66. ‘Bauds’ (1719) [not ‘Bawds’] 72. ‘was’ (1718) [not ‘were’] 73. ‘Caw’ (1718), ‘Ca’ (1719) [not ‘Ca’’] 84. ‘Luckie’ (1718) [not ‘Lucky’] 90. ‘na’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘nae’] 92. ‘dis na’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘dinna’] 93. ‘rins’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘rin’] 95. ‘want,’ (1718) [not ‘want’] 97. ‘gee’ (1718, b1, b2) [not ‘gi’e’] 102. ‘Luckie’ (1718) [not ‘Lucky’] Tartana, or the Plaid Text: Poems (1721). No MS. First printed as Tartana: Or, The Plaid (Edinburgh, 1718), bearing this dedication: To the Scots Ladies, Irresistible Charmers, Were I master of all that Eloquence, with which the flattering Tribe of Authors, frequently push their Encomiums, beyond the Verge of Truth, I might safely say every Fine Thing my Fancy could dictate to your Commendation, without being guilty of advancing ought, but what all the World knows to be true. Being well persuaded your real Merit puts you out of the Reach of Vanity: Allow me to express my Sentiments; That the Eastern and Western Worlds, and Nations remotest from Scotland, (where I hope this Poem will be read) may know, that by the Universal Consent of Mankind, you are acknowledged the fairest and handsomest, the most modest in a Virgin, and chastest in a Nuptial Life of any of your sex, from Pole to Pole. What a vast deal might be said of your Piety, Industry, and Good-Humour, your honourable Treatment of your Lovers, your kind yielding to the Superior Judgment of your Husbands; your Care in educating 446

Notes to Poems 1721 your Children, and all these ineffable Charms, wherewith you can sweeten the Rough and Masculine Temper of a Nation of Heroes! Best of your kind, As in the following, I have invock’d you, as my Proper Muses, so with all the Demonstrations of Respect, ’tis laid at your Feet by, Ladies, Your most Humble And devoted Servant, Allan Ramsay. The subsequent edition, published a year later and subtitled ‘The Second Edition’, is entitled Tartana: Or The Plaid (Edinburgh, 1719). In place of the dedication, this edition is prefaced by ‘To the Ingenious Author of Tartana or the Plaid’ by ‘C.T.’, which was republished as ‘To the Author’ in Poems (1721). Martin records a further printing of Tartana, tentatively dated to 1720, and entitled To the Most Beautiful Scots Ladies, This Poem on the Plaid, Is humbly dedicated By, May it please your Ladyships, Your devoted Servant. This entry poses a bibliographical problem: Martin records that he has not ‘seen it as a separate edition’, as its pagination matches that of early printings of the 1720 ‘gather-up’ edition (pp.[41]-64). Gibson places it as a reprint of the 1719 edition, ‘with a dedication, as above, instead of a title page… with the text changed throughout from English into “braid Scots” by the alteration of who into wha, long into lang, etcetera’ (Gibson, pp.138-39). It is the case that this text’s pagination agrees with that of the 1720 ‘gather-up’ edition, demonstrating its association with that unreliable text. However, not all copies agree: in the NLS’s Glen 106, for example, it is printed with a title page dating the text to 1721, and the text is not Scotticised. Noted in the present edition’s Introduction are the many variations within the ‘gather-up’ edition of 1720, which was probably unauthorised; the Scotticised text appears in only three editions that have survived. All are held by the NLS (Glen 124, RB.s.1065, and NG.1170.c.15(1)). The STS editors describe this ‘third’ edition as ‘a curiosity, for it is the 1719 version put into Scots’ (VI, 27): for example, ‘Our own bold Native Prince then fill’d the Throne’ becomes ‘Our ain bald native Prince then fill’d the Throne’ (l.52), while ‘With this our beauteous Mothers vail’d their Charms;/Each Quality, Age, Sex, each Youth, each Maid,/Deem’d it a Deshabille to want their Plaid’ is ‘translated’ as ‘With this our bony Mithers vai’d their Charms:/Ilk Quality, Age, Sex, ilk Youth, ilk Maid/Deem’d it a Deshabille to want their Plaid.’ (ll.59-61). They argue that this linguistic transformation adds ‘a particular national ardour’ (STS VI, 28) to Tartana, but there is little evidence to support this view. We agree with the STS editors that the Scotticised text lacks quality, but are less secure in attributing the ‘translation’ to Ramsay himself. They state that ‘Ramsay did not repeat this experiment of translating his own poems into Scots’ (VI, 28). This, with the edition’s careless printing and the lack of Ramsay’s usual facility in Scots, leads us to the conclusion that it was unauthorised; it is not, therefore, regarded as a separate edition here. Our position on this ‘third’ edition of Tartana casts further doubt on the theory that Ramsay was concretely involved in the production and sale of the ‘gather-up’ editions of 1720. 447

Poems 3. ‘Assist your Bard, who now in smoothest Lays’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘Assist your Bard, who in harmonious Lays’] 5. ‘How my fond breast, with’ (1718) [not ‘How my fond Breast with’] 6. ‘bestows!’ (1718), ‘bestows?’ (1719) [not ‘bestows.’] 7. ‘Phoebus, and His imaginary Nine,’ (1718), ‘Phoebus and his imaginary Nine’ (1719) [not ‘Phœbus, and his imaginary Nine,’] ‘Phoebus’: sun-god of classical mythology also referred to as Apollo; ‘imaginary Nine’: the classical Muses who provide inspiration for poets, artists and musicians. 8. ‘Divine.’ (1718), ‘Divine,’ (1719) [not ‘Divine;’] 9. ‘Shadows,’ (1718) [not ‘Shadows’] 10. ‘Way;’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘Way:’] 11. ‘who,’ (1718) [not ‘who’] ‘Tweed’: Scottish river, runs through the Scottish Borders into northern England. 12. ‘Stray, thro’ the Haughs, or grace the Clover-Mead;’ (1718) [not ‘Stray through the Groves, or grace the Clover Mead;’] 13. ‘those’ (1718) [not ‘these’] ‘Clyde’: flows through Lanarkshire and Glasgow, and into the Firth of Clyde. 15. ‘Tay,’ (1719) [not ‘Tay’] ‘Tay’: Scotland’s longest river, runs through the Highlands and Perth. 17. ‘Dye,’ (1718) [not ‘Dy,’] 18. ‘Or make the White, the new faln Snows outvy:’ (1718), ‘Or make the White the new-faln Snows outvy:’ (1719) [not ‘Or make the White the falling Snow outvy:’] 20. ‘Day’ (1718) [not ‘Day;’] 22. ‘Fire.’ (1718) [not ‘Fire?’] 23. ‘The Plaid I sing, I’ll sing with all my Skill,’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘I sing the Plaid, and sing with all my Skill,’] 31. ‘And Precedence to this is always due;’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘Precedence to Antiquity is due:’] 35. ‘High-born Ideots’ (1718) [not ‘high born Idiots’] 36. ‘valu’d’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘valu’d,’] 37. ‘It graces Merit, and’s by Merit grac’d.’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘It graces Merit, and by Merit’s grac’d.’] 39. ‘employ’d, of such’ (1718), ‘imployd of such’ (1719) [not ‘employ’d of such’] 41. ‘romantick’ (1718), ‘romantic’ (1719) [not ‘Romantick’] 42. ‘We’ll find how our Forefathers proudly scorn’d,’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘We’ll find our Godlike Fathers nobly scorn’d’] 43. ‘To be with any other Weed adorn’d;’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘To be with any other Dress adorn’d;’] 45. ‘Which ’gainst their Int’rest, and their Bravery strove,’ (1718), ‘Which ’gainst their Interest and their Brav’ry strove.’ (1719) [not ‘Which ’gainst their Int’rest and their Brav’ry strove.’] 47. ‘Steel,’ (1718) [not ‘Steel’] 49. ‘And conquer’d Nations to them Homage pay’d,’ (1718), ‘And conquer’d Nations to them Homage paid,’ (1719) [not ‘And conquer’d Nations prostrate Homage paid,’] 448

Notes to Poems 1721 50. ‘We only then unconquer’d, stood our Ground,’ (1718), ‘We only then unconquer’d stood our Ground,’ (1719) [not ‘They only, they unconquer’d stood their Ground,’] 52. ‘Our own bold native prince then fill’d the Throne,’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘Our native Prince who then supply’d the Throne,’] 53. ‘In’s Plaid array’d, magnificently shone;’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘In Plaid array’d magnificently shone:’] 55. ‘Surmounted by the universal Dress,’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘Tho cover’d by the Caledonian Dress.’] 56. ‘In this the Thanes at Court made their Parade,’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘In this at Court the Thanes were gayly clad,’] 57. ‘With this the Sheepherds, and the Hinds were clad;’ (1718), ‘With this the Shepherds and the Hinds were clade,’ (1719) [not ‘With this the Shepherds and the Hinds were glad,’] 60. ‘Each Quality, Age, Sex, each Youth, each Maid,’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘When ev’ry Youth, and every lovely Maid’] 63. ‘Chains,’ (1718) [not ‘Chains’] 65. ‘To make th’ effeminate in their Gew-gaws shine.’ (1718), ‘To make th’ effeminate in their Gewgaws shine.’ (1719) [not ‘To deck the Fop, and make the Gewgaw shine.’] 67. ‘soft,’ (1718) [not ‘soft’] 68. ‘enerv’d,’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘enerv’d’] 69. ‘I ask’d Varell, what Soldiers he thought best,’ (1718), ‘I ask’d Varell what Soldiers he thought best,’ (1719) [not ‘I asked Varell, what Soldiers he thought best?’] 72. ‘hope to triumph in the Victor’s Carr,’ (1718) [not ‘hop’d to triumph in the Victor’s Car,’] 74. ‘rais’d,’ (1718) [not ‘rais’d’] 77. ‘’midst’ (1718) [not ‘midst’] 79. ‘shou’d’ (1718) [not ‘should’] 81. ‘ratling’ (1718) [not ‘rattling’] 82. ‘Tartanas’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘Tartana’s’] 83. ‘shou’d’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘should’] 84. ‘Banners wou’d not flie:’ (1718), ‘Banners would not fly:’ (1719) [not ‘banners would not flie.’] 87. ‘The conquering Gustavus stood amaz’d’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘Ev’n great Gustavus stood himself amaz’d,’] ‘Gustavus’: Gustavus Adolphus (1594-1632), King of Sweden (1611-32), whose reign was characterised by uninterrupted warfare. 90. ‘Richlieu’: Cardinal Armand Jean du Plessis, Duke of Richelieu (1585-1643), who played a prominent role for the French in the Thirty Years War; ‘Lewis’: Louis XIII (1601-43), King of France from 1610-43, during the Thirty Years War. 91. ‘Men!---’ (1718) [not ‘Men!’] 93. ‘Softness,’ (1718) [not ‘Softness’] 94. ‘Sheepherd’s’ (1718) [not ‘Shepherd’s] ‘Titan’: Helios, the Titan god of the sun in classical mythology. 98. ‘triffling’ (1718) [not ‘trifling’] 449

Poems 99. ‘Church, some Girl,’ (1718), ‘Girl,’ (1719) [not ‘Church some Girl’] 100. ‘Pine, and Myrtle Shades;’ (1718) [not ‘Pine and Myrtle Shades,’] 102. ‘Dust,’ (1718) [not ‘Dust’] 103. ‘ev’ry’ (1718) [not ‘every’ 105. ‘Larks and Linnets’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘Larks, and Linnets,’] 109. ‘escaped in the Hood’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘escap’d within the Hood’] 111. ‘lets’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘let’s] 112. ‘Waste’ (1718) [not ‘Waist’] 113. ‘survey’d,’ (1718); ‘survey’d;’ (1719) [not ‘survey’d.’] 116. ‘Faint’ (1718) [not ‘faint’] 119. ‘exprest,’ (1719) [not ‘exprest;’] 121. ‘While she her Heather-Besoms screams around.’ (1718), ‘While she her Heather Besoms screams around.’ (1719) [not ‘While Heather Besoms loud she screams around.’] 122. ‘Pattern’ (1718) [not ‘Pattern,’] 124. ‘Fair,’ (1719) [not ‘Fair’] 129. ‘Tho… Dye.’ (1718) [not ‘Tho… Dy.’] 130. ‘Lillie’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘Lily’] 131. ‘Out-done by Her White Hand, hangs all its Leaves.’ (1718), ‘Out-done by her white Hand, hands all its Leaves;’ (1719) [not ‘Whose whiter Hand outshines its snowy Leaves;’] 132. ‘So sink the unstain’d Silks in our Esteem,’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘No wonder then white Silks in our Esteem,’ 135. ‘W’immediately conceive the blushing Morn,’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘Our Fancies straight conceive the blushing Morn;’] 136. ‘that Dawn’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘whose Dawn’] 137. ‘Light’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘Light,’] 139. ‘Blew,’ (1718); ‘blue;’ (1719) [not ‘Blue;’] 141. ‘Heav’n’ (1718) [not ‘Heav’n,’] 142. ‘A Garden-Plot enrich’d’ (1718), ‘A Garden Plot, enrich’d’ (1719) [not ‘A Garden Plot enrich’d’] 143. ‘Basking in Sun Beams, after vernal Showers,’ (1718), ‘Basking in Sun Beams after vernal Showers’ (1719) [not ‘In Sun Beams basking after vernal Showers,’] 144. ‘Where Tulips, Pinks, Daisies, and Violets’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘Where lovely Pinks in sweet Confusion rise,’] 145. ‘With Amaranths, in evenest Order set,’ (1718), ‘With Amaranths in evenest Order Set’ (1719) [not ‘And Amaranths and Eglintines surprise;’] 146. ‘sweetest’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘fragrant’] 148. ‘Give not so great a Pleasure to the View,’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘These give not half that Pleasure to the View,’] 149. ‘when’ (1718) [not ‘when,’] 151. ‘Curse’ (1718) [not ‘curse’] 153. ‘With you, t’inflame’ (1718), ‘With you t’inflame’ (1719) [not ‘With you to kindle’] 154. ‘boast?’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘boast!’] 155. ‘And oft our Fancy’s in the Plenty lost;’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘How oft’s our Fancy in the Plenty lost!’] 450

Notes to Poems 1721 156. ‘These more remote these we admire the most:’ (1718) [not ‘These more remote, these we admire the most.’] 157. ‘What’s too familiar to us we despise,’ (1718) [not ‘What’s too familiar often we despise,’] 159. ‘The chearing Sun, if shining all the Day,’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘If Sol himself shou’d shine through all the Day,’] 160. ‘We’re cloy’d’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘We cloy’] 161. ‘But when the marly Cloud he hides’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘But if behind some marly Cloud he steal,’] 162. ‘His Beams sometime, then to the Azure glides;’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘Not for sometime his radiant Head reveal,’] 163. ‘With fuller Gust, his Absence he repays’ (1718), ‘With fuller Gust his Absence he repays’ (1719) [not ‘With brighter Charms his Absence he repays,’] 164. ‘When we are warm’d with his enliv’ning Blaze.’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘And every Sun Beam seems a double Blaze.’] 167. ‘peep,’ (1718) [not ‘peep’] 168. ‘transported,’ (1718) [not ‘transported’] 169. ‘Ah me! We often find’ (1718) [not ‘ah me! we often find’] 170. ‘tho’’ (1718) [not ‘tho’] 173. ‘Rising’ (1718) [not ‘rising’] 174. ‘around,’ (1718) [not ‘around’] 175. ‘Till grey ey’d Twilight Harbinger of Night’ (1718), ‘Till gray-ey’d Twilight, Harbinger of Night,’ (1719) [not ‘Till grey-ey’d Twilight, Harbinger of Night,’] 178. ‘Plaid’ (1718) [not ‘Plaid,’] 179. ‘pleas’d’ (1718) [not ‘pleas’d,’] The 1718 text introduces a stanza break here which is not replicated in later editions. 180. ‘Care;’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘Care?’] 181. ‘Waste’ (1718) [not ‘Waist’] 185. ‘When’ (1718) [not ‘If’] 186. ‘jett thro’’ (1718), ‘jett thro’ (1719) [not ‘jet thro’’] 187. ‘Ketha’ (1719) [not ‘Keitha’] ‘Keitha’: Lady Mary Keith (c.1695-1721), second wife of John Fleming, sixth Earl of Wigtown (c.1674-1743/44). 188. ‘Folds?’ (1718) [not ‘Folds;’] 190. ‘ruffl’d’ (1718) [not ‘rufl’d’] 191. ‘tho’’ (1718) [not ‘tho’] 194. ‘Love sick… Humeia’ (1718) [not ‘Love-sick… Humea’] 195. ‘Mien’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘Meen’] 197. ‘Light,’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘Light;’] 198. ‘Way’ (1718) [not ‘Way,’] 199. ‘White, Black, Blue, Yellow, Purpur, Green, and Red.’ (1718), ‘White, black, blew, yellow, purpure, green and red.’ (1719) [not ‘White, Black, Blew, Yellow, Purple, Green and Red.’] 200. ‘Newton’s Royal Club’: the Royal Society, British scientific institution founded in 1660. Sir Isaac Newton (1643-1727) was one of the earliest Fellows of the Society, having been elected in 1672; he was its President at 451

Poems the time Tartana was published, serving from 1703 until 1727. 201. ‘celestial Dyes’ (1718), ‘Celestial Dies’ (1719) [not ‘Celestial Dyes’] 202. ‘Self’ (1718) [not ‘self’] 203. ‘Gimcracks,’ (1718) [not ‘Gimcracks’] 205. ‘View?’ (1718), ‘View,’ (1719) [not ‘View.’] 206. ‘crouded’ (1718) [not ‘crowded’] 208. ‘Common Weal’ (1718) [not ‘Common-weal’] 211. ‘And search out Beauties, more than mind their Pray’rs’ (1718) [not ‘And search out Beauties more than mind their Prayers’] 212. It has not been possible to trace the meaning of ‘wainscot Forty Six’s’. The STS editors state that the ‘puzzling’ term ‘may refer to the older ladies who acted as chaperones and sat with their backs to the walls looking at the dancers’ (VI, 29). This seems unlikely, however, as the stanza in which this reference appears is set in a church. 219. ‘O then Ye Scotian Virgins’ (1718) [not ‘Then Scotian Virgins’] 220. ‘read, then star’d, and curst’ (1718), ‘read, then star’d and curst’ (1719) [not ‘read; then star’d and curst’] 221. ‘ask’d’ (1718), ‘ask’ (1719) [not ‘askt’] 222. ‘Praises, for a thing despised,’ (1718), ‘Praises for a thing despised’ (1719) [not ‘Praises for a thing despised?’] 223. ‘He smiling swore’ (1718), ‘He, smiling, swore’ (1719) [not ‘He smiling, swore’] 224. ‘this may seem no Doubt true,’ (1718) [not ‘perhaps this may seem true,’] 225. ‘not Fools,’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘nor Fools’] 226. ‘approve,’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘approve;’] 228. ‘agre’d’ (1719) [not ‘agreed’] 229. ‘would’ (1718) [not ‘wou’d’] 230. ‘would on Martial Fields’ (1718), ‘wou’d on martial Fields’ (1719) [not ‘wou’d on Martial Fields’] 231. ‘Corpus Juris’: a body of law; a compendium of all laws. 232. ‘Parli’ments’ (1718) [not ‘Parliaments’] 233. ‘Wit, and Learning, wou’d’ (1718) [not ‘Wit and Learning wou’d’] 234. ‘affraid’ (1718), ‘afrai’d’ (1719) [not ‘afraid’] 237. ‘Says for each Thing, There is a proper Time’ (1718) [not ‘Said, For each Thing there was a Proper Time;’] ‘For each Thing…’: Ecclesiastes 3:1-8, ‘To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven’. 238. ‘Plaid; that ta’ne away’ (1718), ‘Plaid, that tane away’ (1719) [not ‘Plaid, that ta’en away’] 242. ‘Plaid’ (1719) [not ‘Plaid,’] 244. ‘join’d with a Gallic Air’ (1718), ‘join’d with a Gallick Air’ (1719) [not ‘joind with a Gallick Air’] 246. ‘said he, “But when’s the Time’ (1718), ‘said he, but when’s the Time’ (1719) [not ‘said he; But when’s the Time’] 247. ‘“That they may drop the Plaid without a Crime?”’ (1718) [not ‘That they may drop the Plaid without a Crime?’] 248. ‘Least O fair Nymphs’ (1718) [not ‘Lest, O fair Nymphs,’] 250. ‘Heav’n’ (1718) [not ‘Heaven’] 452

Notes to Poems 1721 251. ‘To form a Smoothness on Man’s rougher Mind’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘To form a Smoothness on the rougher Mind’] 254. ‘Studies,’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘Studies’] 255. ‘riding’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘Riding’] 256. ‘resort,’ (1718) [not ‘resort’] 258. ‘croud’ (1718) [not ‘crowd’] 260. ‘Marriage Day’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘Marriage-Day’] 263. ‘mete’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘met’] 265. ‘Sentiments,’ (1718) [not ‘Sentiments’] 269. ‘Who’ (1718) [not ‘Who,’] 273. ‘Daughters,’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘Daughters’] 275. ‘spoke,’ (1718), ‘spoke’ (1719) [not ‘spake’] 276. ‘Say Paris, Which is fairest of us Three?’ (1718), ‘“Say, PARIS, which is fairest of us three.’ (1719) [not ‘Say, Paris, which is fairest of us three.’] ‘Say, Paris’: the judgement of Paris of classical mythology, in which Paris, aided by Hermes and Zeus, judged the beauty of three goddesses: Aphrodite, Hera and Athena. 277. ‘celestial Maids’ (1718), ‘Cœlestial Maids’ (1719) [not ‘Celestial Maids’] 280. ‘And in plain Nature’s Dress’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘In simple Nature’s Dress’] 281. ‘Cytherea’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘Cyth’rea’] ‘Cytherea’: the goddess judged most beautiful by Paris was Aphrodite, also known as Cytherea. 282. ‘Great Criticks, Hail! Our Dread’ (1718) [not ‘Great Criticks hail! our Dread’] 286. ‘Tancred’ (1075-1112): leader in the First Crusade and later Prince of Galilee and regent of Antioch. 288. ‘Soveraign’ (1719) [not ‘Sovereign’] 290. ‘Hellish’ (1718) [not ‘hellish’] 292. ‘Tragick’ (1718); ‘tragic (1719) [not ‘tragick’] 296. ‘stead a gen’rous Off’ring stay’d’ (1718), ‘Stead a gen’rous Off’ring stay’d’ (1719) [not ‘Stead a gen’rous Off’ring staid’] 298. ‘Aeneas’: hero of Virgil’s Aeneid, ‘Achilles’: protagonist of Homer’s Iliad; fighters on opposite sides in the Trojan War. 299. ‘His divine Mother’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘The Goddess Mother’] 302. ‘him,’ (1718) [not ‘him’] 304. ‘another’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘another,’] 308. ‘Saturn’: Roman god whose reign is depicted as a golden age. 309. ‘Beauty-Hunting’ (1718) [not ‘Beauty-hunting’] 310. ‘Men,’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘Men’] 311. ‘wou’d’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘would’] 312. ‘Fir Tree’ (1718) [not ‘Fir-Tree’] 316. ‘God,’ (1718) [not ‘God’] 318. ‘her’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘her,’] 321. ‘brave SCOTS Maid’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘Scotian Maid’] 322. ‘Hard Fate’ (1718) [not ‘hard Fate’] 327. ‘Now say my Muse e’er thou forsak’st’ (1718) [not ‘Now say my Muse, e’er thou forsake’] 328. ‘yield?’ (1718), ‘yield;’ (1719) [not ‘yield,’] 453

Poems 329. ‘Love, Esteem, and Boast’ (1719) [not ‘Love, Esteem and Boast,’] 330. ‘Native Coast’ (1718), ‘native Coast:’ (1719) [not ‘native Coast.’] 331-32. ‘Golden Fleece’: Jason and the Argonauts sought and obtained the Golden Fleece in Greek mythology. 335. ‘Lady’s’ (1719) [not ‘Ladies’] 339. ‘Fenns’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘Fens’] 339-40. The 1718 edition adds two lines between l.339 and l.340, which appear in no other version of Tartana: ‘I’m pleas’d to see Tartanas now take Place,/ Which late on Mountains only shew’d their Face.’ 342. ‘Fifty Five’ (1718) [not ‘fifty five’] 343. ‘Quaggy… Crooked Dwarf’ (1718) [not ‘quaggy… crooked Dwarff’] 344. ‘Scarf’ (1718) [not ‘Scarff’] 345. ‘Spleen, and Spite,’ (1718) [not ‘Spleen and Spite’] 346. ‘out-live’ (1718) [not ‘outlive’] 347. ‘light’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘fall’] 349. ‘Sun, let every’ (1718) [not ‘Sun let ev’ry’] 351. ‘Her Face’ (1718) [not ‘her face’] 352. ‘Till She has seen Her Fourth’ (1718) [not ‘Till she had seen her fourth’] 354. ‘Bohea’: black Chinese tea. 355. ‘Her’ (1718) [not ‘her’] 359-60. Between ll.359-60, the 1718 and 1719 editions add a sub-title: ‘EPILOGUE’. 361. ‘down on these musty Fools’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘upon these musty Fools’] 362. ‘worm eaten’ (1718), ‘Worm-eaten’ (1719) [not ‘worm-eaten’] 364. ‘Ten Times’ (1718) [not ‘ten Times’] 365. ‘Vain, are in the Wrong’ (1718) [not ‘vain are in the wrong’] 367. ‘triffle’ (1718) [not ‘trifle’] 368. ‘only, draw their Sword,’ (1718) [not ‘only draw their Sword’] After the final line (l.s368), the 1718 edition adds ‘FINIS.’ Scots Songs The happy Lover’s Reflections Text: Poems (1721). No MS. First published in Scots Songs (1718) and reprinted in the second edition of Scots Songs (1719). According to Martin, there was a further edition of Scots Songs printed in 1720, but he has ‘not seen this as a separate edition’, regarding it as part of the 1720 ‘gather-up’ publication. This argument may be called into question by the publishing history of Scots Songs, leading to agreement with Gibson that a separate, third edition was indeed printed in 1720 and has not survived. With each publication of Scots Songs, Ramsay added new songs. The first edition of 1718 prints seven songs: ‘The Happy Lover’s Reflections’, ‘The Lass of Peattie’s Mill’, ‘Delia’, ‘The Kind Reception’, ‘The Penitent’, ‘Love’s Cure’ and ‘Ode’. The second edition, published in 1719, adds ‘The Yellow-hair’d Laddie’, ‘Nanny O’ and ‘Bonny Jean’. The third edition, which adds ‘Bessy Bell and Mary Gray’, ‘The Young Laird and Edinburgh Katy’ 454

Notes to Poems 1721 and ‘Katy’s Answer’, thus completing the collection of songs as published in the subscribers’ ‘complete’ edition of 1721, has not been traced. Further, ‘The Happy Lover’s Reflections’ was reprinted in Ramsay’s TTM I. There are several possible sources for the tune dating back to c.1625, when a song entitled ‘Alace yat I came owr the moor and left my love behind me’ appears in the Skene MS (NLS, Gb-En.ms.adv.5.2.15, pp.55-56). It also appears in two Panmure MSS, the earliest in 1670 with the title ‘Last time I came over the Mure’ (NLS, GB-En.9454, fo. 3v-4r) and in the MS dated ?1670-1700 (NLS, Gn-En-9458, 51v) where it appears without a title. The song features, again without a title, in the Bowie MS (c.1695-c.1705; NLS Gb-En-21714, fol.21v) and as ‘The last time I came over the Moor’ in Blaikie’s 1692 MS (Dundee Central Library GB-Ducl, No. 43). More contemporary sources include its appearance in the Balcarres MS (1690-1700, pp.56-57) as ‘The last tyme I came over the moore by mr Beck’, and in the Gairdyn MS (c.1710-35; NLS GB-En Glen, fol.43v). Although he does not name it, Ramsay appears to be the first to put a song with this tune in print; after, or contemporary to the song’s publication in TTM, it is printed in Alexander Stuart’s Musick for Allan Ramsay’s Collection of 71 Songs (Edinburgh: 1725-26?, pp.78-79). 2. ‘me.’ (1718), ‘me:’ (1719) [not ‘me;’] 4. ‘me,’ (1718), ‘me?’ (1719) [not ‘me:’] 6. ‘the’ (1718) [not ‘The’] 9. ‘lay’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘lay,’] 10. ‘gazing,’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘Gazing’] 11. ‘We kiss’d,’ (1718) [not ‘We kiss’d’] 12. ‘Curtain:’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘Curtain.’] 14. ‘Kings when’ (1718) [not ‘Kings, when’] 16. ‘cou’d’ (1718) [not ‘could’] 17. ‘roar’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘rore’] 19. ‘Foreign’ (1718) [not ‘foreign’] 20. ‘me,’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘me;’] 21. ‘hopes’ (1719) [not ‘Hopes’] 22. ‘Glowing’ (1718) [not ‘glowing’] 24. ‘Blesses’ (1718) [not ‘Blisses’] 26. ‘enter,’ (1718) [not ‘enter;’] 30. ‘their’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘Their’] 31. ‘Greenland-Ice’ (1718) [not ‘Greenland Ice’] 32. ‘before’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘Before’] 34. ‘she’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘She’] 36. ‘tho’’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘Tho’] 37. ‘Sacred’ (1718) [not ‘sacred’] 39. ‘There’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘There,’] 40. ‘my’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘My’] The Lass of Peattie’s Mill Text: Poems (1721). No MS. 455

Poems Two MS transcriptions of this song were made: one by Elizabeth Cochrane, held at Harvard University Library (MS Eng.512, No. 64), and another by Elizabeth St. Clair, housed at Broughton House, Kircudbright (Mansfield MS). It was previously published in Ramsay’s Scots Songs of 1718, 1719 and the untraced third edition of 1720. It is also reprinted in Ramsay’s TTM I. The tune for ‘The Lass of Peattie’s Mill’ is first sourced in the mid-seventeenth century, in Robert Edward’s MS Commonplace Book (1630-65; NLS Gb-En 9450, fo. 46v). It first appears in print in 1687, as ‘The tune of young Jenny’ in the fifth edition of Henry Playford’s Apollo’s Banquet (London; no. 69, p.28), and afterwards in the Balcarres and Panmure (9458, 51v-r) MSS. It is reprinted in ?1725-26 with music as ‘The Lass of Peaty’s Mill’ in Stuart’s Musick for Allan Ramsay’s Collection (pp.80-81). 2. ‘So bonny Blyth and Gay,’ (1718) [not ‘So bonny, blyth and gay,’] 6. ‘Bareheaded’ (1718) [not ‘Bare-headed’] 15. ‘found’ (1718) [not ‘fand’] 16. ‘Balmy’ (1718) [not ‘balmy’] 23. ‘beguil’d,’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘beguil’d;’] 26. ‘Hoptoun’s’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘Hopeton’s’] 27. ‘long Life, and Health,’ (1718) [not ‘long Life and Health,’] 28. ‘Pleasures’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘Pleasure’] 29. ‘fulfil’ (1718) [not ‘fulfill’] Delia. To the Tune of Green Sleeves Text: Poems (1721). No MS. First published in Scots Songs (1718), in a second edition of Scots Songs in 1719 and for a third time in an untraced third edition dated to 1720. It also appears in Ramsay’s TTM I. The tune to which it is set was and remains very wellknown, being first sourced in MS in the latter half of the sixteenth century in Holmes’s set of consort books (c.1585-1600; Cambridge University Library GB-Cu Ms.Dd.3.18, 8v-9) as ‘Green Sleeues’. In the eighteenth century, it is found in MS in James Thomson’s 1702 Music Book (NLS GB-En Ms 2833, fol. 18-19) and in print in John Walsh’s The Division Flute (London, 1706, pp.9-10). It also features in Margaret Sinkler’s 1710 collection (NLS 143 (i) MS 3296) and is reprinted in Stuart’s Musick for Allan Ramsay’s Collection (?1725-26, pp.82-83). 7. ‘’Til’ (1718), ‘’Till’ (1719) [not ‘Till’] 9. ‘careful no’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘careful, no’] 10. ‘Golden’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘golden’] 13. ‘’er’ (1718) [not ‘her’] 15. ‘Riches’ (1718) [not ‘Plenty’] 16. ‘Ten’ (1718) [not ‘ten’] 27. ‘vertous’ (1718) [not ‘virtuous’] 28. ‘Constant’ (1718) [not ‘constant’] 31. ‘waste’ (1718) [not ‘pass’]

456

Notes to Poems 1721 The Yellow Hair’d Laddie Text: Poems (1721). No MS. First published in the second edition of Scots Songs (1719), and thereafter in a 1720 imprint of Scots Songs which has not been traced. The tune is very popular across the late seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries and is featured in Ramsay’s collection of songs for GS. It is first traced in a broadside entitled The Country-mans care in choosing a Wife to the tune of Yellow-Haired Laddy, printed for P. Brooksby in 1672-96. Thereafter, it features in several MS collections, including three versions arranged by John Beck in the Balcarres collection (c.1700, numbers 30, 130 and 201) as well as in Elizabeth Crockat’s collection of 1709 (rev. f94, f51v) and that of Gairdyn (1710-35, f.4). After its initial publication, it appears again in broadside as Bonny Helen, to the Tune of the Yellow Haird Ladie (?1701), thereafter featuring in A Celebration of the Most Celebrated Scotch Tunes for the Violin (Dublin, 1724, p.11) and Thomson’s Orpheus Caledonius (1724, p.7 and p.52, flute version). It also appears in Stuart’s Musick for Allan Ramsay’s Collection (1725-26, pp.84-85). Title: ‘The Yellow-hair’d Ladie’ (1719) [not ‘The Yellow-hair’d Laddie’] 2. ‘rejoyceth’ (1719) [not ‘rejoiceth’] 3. ‘Ladie’ (1719) [not ‘Laddie’] 6. ‘Loves ev’ning’ (1719) [not ‘Loves, Ev’ning’] 11. ‘handsome’ (1719) [not ‘handsome,’] 14. ‘unconstant’ (1719) [not ‘unconstant,’] 18. ‘sour.’ (1719) [not ‘sowr:’] 19. ‘sighing’ (1719) [not ‘sighing,’] Nanny O Text: Poems (1721). No MS. First printed in the second edition of Ramsay’s Scots Songs (1719) and in a third, unlocated edition of Scots Songs, dated by Gibson to 1720. It was further reprinted in Ramsay’s TTM I. The tune is found in numerous eighteenth-century sources. Its earliest appearance is traced to the Balcarres MS (1690-1700, pp.114-15), and it appears in George Waterson’s MS collection of 1715 (NLS Acc.4292, fo.5), George Skene’s Fiddle Book of 1717-40 (NLS Adv. MS.5.2.21), 16v, and John Gairdyn’s MS, which was compiled between 1710-35 (NLS GB-En-Glen, fol. 16r and fol. 28v). Ramsay is first to bring the song to print in his second edition of Scots Songs (1719); it is reprinted in Stuart’s Musick for Allan Ramsay’s Collection (?1725-26). 3. ‘self’ (1719) [not ‘self,’] 10. ‘finly’ (1719) [not ‘finely’] 12. ‘divinely---’ (1719) [not ‘divinely’] 13. ‘Vow ye’ (1719) [not ‘Vow, ye’] 15. ‘envy’ (1719) [not ‘Envy’]

457

Poems Bonny Jean Text: Poems (1721). No MS. First published in the second edition of Scots Songs (1719) and in an untraced third edition of Scots Songs which was published in 1720; also reprinted in TTM I. Its accompanying tune appears to have been popular in the first half of the eighteenth century. The tune’s earliest appearance is in James Guthrie’s MS collection of c.1650 (EUL GB-Eu, f.2). It is first printed in the second edition of Ramsay’s Scots Songs (1719), and reprinted in John and William Neal’s A Collection of the Most Celebrated Scotch Tunes (Dublin, c.1724, p.3), Alex Urquhart and David Wright’s Aria di Camera (London, 1727, p.22), and Stuart’s Musick for Allan Ramsay’s Collection (?1725-26, pp.88-89). 2. ‘Cupid’: Roman god of love. 6. ‘Paphos’: Cupid is the son of Venus, goddess of love; her Greek counterpart is Aphrodite, whose birthplace was thought to be Paphos, Cyprus. 9. ‘Nymph,’ (1719) [not ‘Nymph’] 10. ‘Address,’ (1719) [not ‘Address;’] 26. ‘seems,’ (1719) [not ‘seems:’] 29. ‘disclos’d’ (1719) [not ‘disclos’d,’] 30. ‘Queen,’ (1719) [not ‘Queen:’] ‘the Spartan Queen’: Helen of Troy, regarded as the most beautiful woman in the world. The Kind Reception. To the Tune of Auld Lang Syne Text: Poems (1721). No MS. First printed in Scots Songs (1718) and reprinted in the second (1719) and third (1720) editions, the latter of which has not survived; also published in TTM I. The tune first appears in Playford’s Apollo’s Banquet (London, 1687, p.46, no.114) as ‘The Duke of Bucchleugh’s tune’ and is published in various places and formats in the early eighteenth century. It features in a 1701 Edinburgh broadside with similar lyrics to Ramsay’s as An Excellent and proper New Ballad, Entitled, OLD LONG SYNE (NLS GB-En Ry.III.a.10 [70]); Playford’s A Collection of Original Scots Tunes (London, 1701, no. 26, p.29); Thomson’s Orpheus Caledonius (London, 1725, no. 31); and Stuart’s Music for Allan Ramsay’s Collection (Edinburgh: 1726-27, pp.20-21). 2. ‘Scars,’ (1718) [not ‘Scars?’] 4. ‘Glorious’ (1718) [not ‘glorious’] 5. ‘Varo’: may be an allusive reference to Marcus Terentius Varro (116-27 BC), ancient Roman scholar and writer who commanded one of Pompey’s armies during Caesar’s civil war. 12. ‘gay;’ (1718) [not ‘gay.’] 14. ‘shine;’ (1718) [not ‘shine,’] 15. ‘Notes,’ (1718) [not ‘Notes’] 17. ‘Court,’ (1718) [not ‘Court’] 18. ‘fall’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘fall;’] 20. ‘Ball.’ (1718), ‘Bal ?’ (1719) [not ‘Ball ?’] 458

Notes to Poems 1721 23. ‘Selves’ (1718) [not ‘selves’] 25. ‘Moor,’ (1718) [not ‘Moor’] 26. ‘chace,’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘chace;’] 28. ‘embrace,’ (1718) [not ‘embrace:’] 30. ‘mine,’ (1718) [not ‘mine;’] 36. ‘above;’ (1718) [not ‘above:’] 37. ‘Consent,’ (1718) [not ‘Consent’] 38. ‘Sacred’ (1718) [not ‘sacred’] 40. ‘pine’ (1718) [not ‘Pine’] The Penitent. To the Tune of the Lass of Livingston Text: Poems (1721). No MS. First published in the 1718 edition of Ramsay’s Scots Songs; reprinted in the second edition of 1719 and the untraced third edition of 1720; also in TTM I. The tune is a popular one, appearing at first with a variation on the title of ‘Highland Lady’ from the late sixteenth century in MS collections including those of Panmure (?1670-1700, 9458, 47r-46v), Bowie (c.1695-c.1705, 8v-9r), Balcarres (1690-1700, no. 143) and Leyden (1690, fo.21r no. 31 and fo. 48r). It first appeared in print as ‘Cockle Shells’ in Playford’s Dancing Master 11 (1701, p.304). The earliest source with the title ‘Lass of Livingstone’ is Elizabeth Crockat’s MS collection of 1710 (fols. 28v-29r), and Ramsay is the first to use this tune title in print in his Scots Songs (1718). It later appears, also as ‘The lass of Livingston’ in Thomson’s Orpheus Caledonius (1725, no. 28), and Stuart’s Musick for Allan Ramsay’s Collection (?1725-26, pp.102-3). In the 1721 copy-text, the first word of each line is capitalised; in 1718 and 1719, only the first word in every second line (i.e. ll.1, 3, 5, etc.) is capitalised. 12. ‘Mind;’ (1718) [not ‘Mind,’] 16. ‘cause… cause’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘Cause… Cause’] 20. ‘Flame.’ (1718) [not ‘Flame?’] 22. ‘coy,’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘coy?’] 23. ‘alas’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘alas!’] 27. ‘Power,’ (1718) [not ‘Power’] 28. ‘Fans up the Fire;— Fans up the Fire;’ (1718), ‘Fans up the Fire,— Fans up the Fire;’ (1719) [not ‘Fans up the Fire,— Fans up the Fire.’] 29. ‘Pride,’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘Pride;’] 39. ‘cry’d’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘cry’d,’] Love’s Cure. To the Tune of Peggy I must Love Thee Text: Poems (1721). No MS. First printed in Ramsay’s Scots Songs of 1718, reprinted in the second edition of Scots Songs (1719), and a third edition of the collection, which has not survived. The tune has a long history in print, appearing first as ‘The Deel Assist the Plotting Whigs’ in Henry Purcell’s 180 Loyal Songs (London, 1685), and thereafter in Playford’s Apollo’s Banquet, 5th Edition (London, 1687, part 459

Poems 3, no. 5). Purcell again printed the tune, this time as ‘A New Scotch Tune’ in Musick’s Handmaid, Part II (London, 1689, p.16), as did D’Urfey, in his Choice Collection of New Songs and Ballads (London, 1699, p.163). It appears with a variety of titles in the MS collections of Leyden (c.1690, no. 20b), Blaikie (1692, no.23), Balcarres (1690-1700, f.145 and 204), Bowie (1695-c.1705, fos. 30v-31r), Crocket (1709, reversed fo. 19v), Sinkler (1710, no. 32) and Gairdyn (1710-35, fo. 7v). In the eighteenth century, the tune was printed in Walsh’s Compleat Country Dancing-Master (London, 1716, p.38), D’Urfey’s Wit and Mirth (London, 1719, pp.148-49), Thomson’s Orpheus Caledonius (London, 1725) and Stuart’s Musick for Allan Ramsay’s Collection (Edinburgh, ?1725-26, pp.104-5). 2. ‘shipwrackt’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘shipwreckt’] 5. ‘sun’ (1718) [not ‘Sun’] 8. ‘Joy’ (1718) [not ‘Joy,’] 13. ‘I’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘I,’] 14. ‘Mind,’ (1718) [not ‘Mind’] 19. ‘Manly’ (1718) [not ‘manly’] 24. ‘thee.’ (1718) [not ‘thee?’] 25. ‘foolish’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘foolish,’] 28. ‘Beauty;’ (1718) [not ‘Beauty:’] 30. ‘hope’ (1718) [not ‘Hope’] Ode Text: Poems (1721). No MS. First printed in Scots Songs (1718) and reprinted in the second (1719) and untraced third (1720) editions of the collection. 2. ‘Man,’ (1718, 1719) [not ‘Man:’] 7. ‘Stream,’ (1718), ‘Stream;’ (1719) [not ‘Stream:’] Bessy Bell and Mary Gray Text: Poems (1721). No MS. First printed in the untraced third edition of Ramsay’s Scots Songs, thought by Gibson to have been published in 1720. The tune has a long history in both MS and print. The earliest printed version is found in Martin Parker’s Foure pence halfe penney Farthing (London, ?1629). It features in James Guthrie’s MS collection of c.1650 (EUL GB-Eu, f.v, p.300), the Balcarres collection (1690-1700, no. 147) and Patrick Cuming’s MS of 1723 (NLS GB-En 1667, p.28). Its first appearance in print in the eighteenth century is as ‘Bess-Bell’ in Playford’s A Collection of Original Scotch Tunes, for the Violin (London, 1701, pp.8-9), and thereafter in Thomson’s Orpheus Caledonius (London, 1725, no.2), J. Roberts’s A Collection of Old Ballads (1725, pp.243-44), and Stuart’s Musick for Allan Ramsay’s Collection (?1725-26, pp.106-7). The tune is also used by Gay in The Beggar’s Opera (1728, air 9, p.49). Ramsay reprinted ‘Bessy Bell and Mary Gray’ in TTM I. 460

Notes to Poems 1721 Title: By its title, the song is associated with the story of Bessy Bell and Mary Gray, daughters of Perthshire gentlemen who, according to ballad lore, built and inhabited a bower in the Lynedoch estate in the Perthshire countryside to avoid contracting plague. They evaded infection until a young man from Perth delivered food to them and passed on the disease, which killed them both. They were buried at Dronach-haugh near the River Almond. It is not certain, however, that Ramsay was familiar with this version of the story, given that his song makes no reference to plague, which in other forms of the song ‘cam’ frae the Burrow-toun/An’ slew them baith thegither’ (Child, 201). 11. ‘Phoebus’: Apollo as god of the sun; ‘Thetis’: goddess of the sea and leader of the Nereides. 24. ‘Jove’: Roman counterpart of Jupiter and the highest Roman deity; ‘Pallas’: an epithet of Athena, an ancient Greek goddess associated with wisdom and warfare. The Young Laird and Edinburgh Katy Text: Poems (1721). No MS. First printed in the untraced third edition of Ramsay’s Scots Songs, thought by Gibson to have been published in 1720; also in GS. The tune to which the song is set first appears in Stuart’s Musick for Allan Ramsay’s Collection (172526, p.122), and has a long afterlife in mid-century song collections. Katy’s Answer Text: Poems (1721). No MS. First printed in the untraced third edition of Ramsay’s Scots Songs, thought by Gibson to have been published in 1720. ‘Katy’s Answer’ completes the first collection of thirteen Scots Songs published in Poems (1721); Ramsay reprints the song in TTM I. The tune to which it is set appears in various guises throughout the late seventeenth and early sixteenth centuries. It is featured in the MS collection of Blaikie (1692, no. 65), and thereafter in print as ‘Health to Betty’ in Playford’s English Dancing Master (London, 1651, p.21). In the early eighteenth century, the tune is printed as ‘A Health to Betty’ in Thomson’s Orpheus Caledonius (London, 1725, p.25), and with Ramsay’s title and lyrics in Stuart’s Musick for Allan Ramsay’s Collection (?1725-26, pp.124-25). Edinburgh’s Address to the Country. November 1718 Text: Poems (1721). No MS. First published in a pamphlet which, although undated, is likely to have been printed in 1718. 3. ‘Forasmuch as,’ (1718) [not ‘Forasmuch as’] 4. ‘Rural’ (1718) [not ‘rural’] 5. ‘Hyperborean’: member of a race thought by the ancient Greeks to live in 461

Poems the extreme north, beyond the north wind. 7. ‘Ye Swains and Nymphs forsake the wither’d’ (1718) [not ‘Ye Swains and Nymphs, forsake the withered’] 9. ‘Ere Winds and Tempests o’re’ (1718) [not ‘Since Winds and Tempests o’er’] 10. ‘Haste to,’ (1718) [not ‘Haste here’] 11. ‘Towers’ (1718) [not ‘Tow’rs’] 13. ‘you may from Winter run,’ (1718) [not ‘you may bleak Winter shun,’] 14. ‘Sun.’ (1718) [not ‘Sun:’] 18. ‘discharge.’ (1718) [not ‘discharge;’] 21. ‘Friends,’ (1718) [not ‘Friends’] After l.22, the 1718 edition has a blank space followed by the stand-alone couplet, ‘One on his Turn, with Strength of Skill, defines/That universal Use of Euclide’s Lines.’ A blank space follows, and the text picks up with a new stanza at l.23, which begins ‘My Schools of Law’. This couplet does not appear in Poems of 1721. 27. ‘Raphael’: Raffaello Sanzio da Urbino (1483-1520); ‘Ruben’: Peter Paul Rubens (1577-1640); ‘Vandike’: Anthony van Dyck (1599-1641), artists. 28. ‘Bosom’ (1718) [not ‘Bosoms’] 30. ‘th’ingenious’ (1718) [not ‘the immortal’] 32. ‘Dactiles’ (1718) [not ‘Dactyl’s’] ‘Mantuan Dactyl’s’: a reference to Virgil’s poetry; Virgil was a citizen of Mantua; a ‘dactyl’ is a foot in poetic metre. 33. ‘Others’ (1718) [not ‘others’] 34. ‘Voice, Correlli’s’ (1718) [not ‘Sounds Correlli’s’] ‘Correlli’: Arcangelo Corelli (1653-1713), Italian violinist and composer. 35. ‘around’ (1718) [not ‘arround’] 37. ‘Great’ (1718) [not ‘great’] 39. ‘These and a Thousand Things’ (1718) [not ‘These in my Coffee Shops’] 40. ‘Sage’s’ (1718) [not ‘Sages’] 41. ‘full-fraughted’ (1718) [not ‘full fraughted’] 44. ‘Victorious’ (1718) [not ‘victorious’] ‘Eugene’: Prince Eugene Francis of Savoy-Carignano (1663-1736), field marshal in the army of the Holy Roman Empire; Ramsay refers to his role in the War of the Spanish Succession (1701-14). 45. ‘Throne;’ (1718) [not ‘Throne,’] 46. ‘groan.’ (1718) [not ‘grone.’] 48. ‘War.’ (1718) [not ‘War;’] 52. ‘Night Shades’ (1718) [not ‘Night-shades’] 53. ‘tost,’ (1718) [not ‘toss,’] 54. ‘Post;’ (1718) [not ‘Posts;’] 55. ‘Hautboy’: oboe. 56. ‘Phantom’ (1718) [not ‘phantom’] 62. ‘fair.’ (1718) [not ‘fair;’] 67. ‘Venus, Pallas, and the Spouse of Jove’: the Judgement of Paris, in which the three most beautiful goddesses – Aphrodite (here Venus), Athena (here Pallas) and Hera (here ‘Jove’s spouse’) – competed for a golden apple addressed ‘to the fairest’. Rubens and van Dyck, mentioned in l.27, made the Judgement of Paris the subject of paintings. 462

Notes to Poems 1721 72. ‘The Muse, for want of Words,’ (1718) [not ‘The Muse for Want of Words’] 74. ‘Clay,’ (1718) [not ‘Clay’] 75. ‘glancing Smiles can powerfully’ (1718) [not ‘softest Smiles can pow’rfully’] 76. ‘Show’ (1718) [not ‘Show,’] 80. ‘Bed;’ (1718) [not ‘Bed,’] 81. ‘Father,’ (1718) [not ‘Father’] 82. ‘Trade.’ (1718) [not ‘Trade;’] 84. ‘Sire;’ (1718) [not ‘Sire:’] 89. ‘State:’ (1718) [not ‘State,’] 90. ‘Fate.’ (1718) [not ‘Fate:’] 92. ‘new built Churches towering’ (1718) [not ‘new-built Churches tow’ring’] 93. ‘Thule’: the most northerly location in ancient Greek and Roman literature and cartography. Written beneath the Historical Print of the wonderful Preservation of Mr. David Bruce, and others his School-fellows, St. Andrews, August 19. 1710 Text: Poems (1721). No MS. First printed in a pamphlet entitled The Morning Interview. An Heroi-Comical Poem (Edinburgh, 1720). This edition misspells Ramsay’s name as ‘Alan’, and prints ‘Written beneath the Historical Print’ alongside ‘The Morning Interview’, ‘Edinburgh’s Address to the Country’, ‘Elegy on Maggy Johnston’, ‘Elegy on John Cowper’, ‘Elegy on Lucky Wood’, ‘Lucky Spence’s Last Advice’, ‘Tartana’, the collection of ‘Scots Songs’ and ‘Christ’s Kirk on the Green’ (see also Notes to ‘The Morning Interview’). The poem concerns an early eighteenth-century print by George Vertue, after Pierre Berchet, entitled ‘David Bruce’, which is held by the National Portrait Gallery, London (NPG D31556). The print features the following account of the incident Ramsay describes: On the 19th of August 1710 This young Gentleman David Bruce aged 15 years with 6 other about the same Age in company [Dav.d Rankilour, Jo.n Wilson, James Martin, Ale.r Mitchel, James Thomson and James Watson] went out from the Harbour of St. Andrews in a Little boat, with a design to recreat themselves. But it happned in their return they Lost one of their Oars, & were driven into ye Ocean. Twas late before their Parents missed them & therefore not in their Power to afford them any Relief till morning, that they Dispatched some boats in quest of them, but all in vain Whereupon every body gave them for Lost. Mean time the boys were toss’d up and down, without being able by all their Endeavours to make any Shore, tho every day within sight of it. At Length by the good providence of GOD, the wind turning Easterly, after 6 days and 6 nights continued fasting and Labour, they got to Shore alive, under a steep rock commonly called Hern-heugh, 4 miles south of Aberdeen and 50 north of St. Andrews which two of them climb’d up by the direction of an old Fisherman who chanced to Be near the Place & making known their distress to an honest Country man, In.o Shepherd, he kindly Received them into his House hard by, 463

Poems notifying at the same time so extraordinary & moving an accident to the Magistrates of Aberdeen, who forthw.th dispatched their Dean of Guild with D.r Gregory a Physician and M.r Gordon a Surgeon to attend them By whose means under GOD all of them where [sic] preserved, excepting only the two youngest Jo.n Wilson & James Martin who died soon after they came ashore, and were honourably interr’d in Aberdeen by the care of the Magistrates. In thankfull Commemoration of this Wonderfull Event Robert Bruce Goldsmith in Edinburgh, Father to the above David caused this copper Plate to be Engraved. Soli Deo Gloria George Vertue FSA (1684-1756) was an English engraver and antiquary who was, from its foundation in 1717 until his death, official engraver to the Society of Antiquaries. 4. ‘View;’ (1720) [not ‘View:’] 10. ‘Despair.’ (1720) [not ‘despair.’] 11. ‘BEHOLD,’ (1720) [not ‘Behold’] 12. ‘high,’ (1720) [not ‘high;’] 13. ‘Beam’ (1720) [not ‘Beam,’] Christ’s Kirk on the Green, In Three Canto’s Text: Poems (1721). MS: BL (Egerton 2024, ff.6-11). Christ’s Kirk on the Green presents an extremely complicated set of bibliographical issues thanks, in part, to its intricate evolution. As a text whose first canto is borrowed from a sixteenth-century MS, it moves through initial editions to the present copy-text of the full poem, published in Poems (1721), which consists of the original text alongside two cantos penned by Ramsay. There is one MS source for Ramsay’s version; this consists only of Ramsay’s transcription of Canto I, the fruit of his consultation with the Bannatyne MS, a collection of Scots poems and songs compiled by George Bannatyne in 1568. No MS for Ramsay’s original work in Cantos 2 and 3 has survived. The Bannatyne MS is held in the NLS (Adv.MS.1.1.6); ‘Christ’s Kirk on the Green’ appears at ff. 99-101a. At various points since the disputed date of its creation, the original poem was thought to have been the work of King James I or James V of Scotland. Bannatyne ascribes the poem to James I, but subsequent scholars credited James V. At different points in the eighteenth century, both James I and James V were identified as having written the poem; current scholarship rules out both monarchs as its author, thanks to the consensus that it was probably written around 1500 (see Alan H. MacLaine (ed.), The Christis Kirk Tradition: Scots Poems of Folk Festivity (1996), p.10). It is known that Ramsay consulted the Bannatyne MS with the permission of its then-owner, William Carmichael of Skirling (1671-1759), and that this work formed the basis of his later collection of older Scottish poems and songs, The Ever Green (1724). Ramsay’s study of and resulting version of Christ’s Kirk on the Green for Poems (1721) show him working as editor, antiquarian and poet simultaneously. 464

Notes to Poems 1721 Before Christ’s Kirk on the Green’s appearance in Poems (1721), it was printed at least five times in various formats: (1) Christ’s Kirk on the Green In Two Canto’s (Printed by William Adams Junior, 1718); (2) Christ’s Kirk on the Green In Two Canto’s and (3) Christ’s Kirk on the Green in Two Canto’s, both of which are broadside publications and dated tentatively by Martin to 1718; (4) Christ’s Kirk on the Green, In Three Canto’s, published as a pamphlet by Ruddiman in 1718; and (5) Christ’s Kirk on the Green, In Three Canto’s, published in pamphlet form by Ruddiman in 1720. Neither broadside publication (2, 3) has empirical connection to Ramsay: the NLS catalogue regards (2) as a pirated copy, while Gibson concurs that ‘Ramsay has nothing whatever to do with’ (3) (New Light, p.111). They are not, therefore, regarded as authorised texts, and do not feature in the list of variants below. Gibson believes that Ramsay ‘copied the first canto [as it appears in (1)] from Part I of Watson’s [Choice] Collection [of Comic and Serious Scots Poems (1706)]’ (New Light, p.109), in advance of seeing the Bannatyne MS. Evidence to support Gibson’s view is that the first canto, ascribed as per Watson’s Choice Collection to James V in (1), is later attributed to James I in Ramsay’s MS transcription and the two Ruddiman pamphlets (4, 5), thus following Bannatyne’s designation. Furthermore, Ramsay’s earliest publication of Christ’s Kirk (1) resembles Watson’s version more than his later editions, which are closer to the Bannatyne MS’s text: for example, in (1), he includes Stanza 16 which appears in Watson and not in Bannatyne; the ‘Watson stanza’ does not feature in (4) and (5). It can be concluded therefore that his first publication of the poem with Adams (1) follows Watson, and later Ruddiman editions (4, 5) are informed by Ramsay’s consultation of the Bannatyne MS and updated to follow more closely the text of 1568. This textual and MS evidence allows us to pinpoint the date of Ramsay’s first consultation of the Bannatyne MS to 1718. The collation below incorporates Ramsay’s MS transcription of the first canto, the two-canto edition of 1718 (1), and the two pamphlets issued by Ruddiman in 1718 (4) and 1720 (5) which both feature the three-canto version. The Bannatyne MS itself does not appear in the collation for two reasons: firstly, as the publishing history of Christ’s Kirk demonstrates, Ramsay has one strategy for the text in his Poems (1721) and another for its later appearance in The Ever Green. In the former, Ramsay adapts the poem’s form and language and adds two self-penned cantos; in the latter, he acts as an editor, reproducing the poem in a way that is more faithful to the text as he found it in Bannatyne. Therefore, the Bannatyne is more obviously a key MS source for The Ever Green than for Poems. (A full textual history of the poem in its Ever Green context is provided in the forthcoming edition of that collection in The Works of Allan Ramsay.) Secondly, Christ’s Kirk as it appears in Poems has two sources – Watson and Bannatyne – which inform only the first canto of the text; most of the poem is Ramsay’s own. Although Ramsay’s MS transcription is a faithful copy of the original poem’s form as he found it in the Bannatyne MS, it should be noted that in 465

Poems the printed versions of Christ’s Kirk discussed here, Ramsay altered the original stanza endings. The closing lines of Canto I, stanza 1, in the Bannatyne version read as follows: In new Kirtills of Gray, Full gay, At Chryst-Kirk of the Grene that Day. All printed versions discussed here finish the stanza in this way: In new Kirtles of Gray Fou gay that Day Ramsay reinstated the original stanza form for his later publication of Christ’s Kirk in The Ever Green, but his own version of the stanza became highly influential, as seen in Robert Fergusson’s utilisation of it in, among other poems, ‘Leith Races’ (1773), and Burns’s in, for example, ‘The Holy Fair’ (1786). Each of Ramsay’s editions of Christ’s Kirk features unique prefatory material. In the 1718 edition (1) printed by Adams, the following ‘letter’ appears at the head of the text: To Sir, If these following merry Images contribute to your Diversion, and if you own them to be just, I shall not trouble my self with defending every little Thing, the Chagreen may alledge, to the Detriment of what pleases both you and, Sir, Your Humble Servant, Allan Ramsay.’ This 1718 edition also features an ‘Advertisement’: I Own it to be Thirst after Glory that push’d my Muse on such a vast Performance of adding a Second Canto to this admirable Poem, which never own’d any other Author than a Scots Monarch: How I have acted my Part? if you’ll take my Word for it, excellently, and, I hope, the World will agree with me after Two or Three Readings. Consider it werly, rede oftner than anys, Wiel at ane Blenk sle Poetry not tane is. G. Douglas. Whereof I would intreat my gentle, &c. Readers to beware of rash Judgement, least mistaken Notions may make them speak disrespectfully of some beautiful Stanza, and be guilty of a Blunder, which once advanced, must be supported from a Principle of Pride, tho’ a Man be secretly convinced of his Error. The pamphlets published by Ruddiman in 1718 and 1720 print the following advertisement, which emphasises their improved ‘correctness’: This Edition of the first Canto, is copied from an old Manuscript Collection of Scots Poems wrot an hundred and fifty Years ago; where it is found to be done by King James I. Besides its being more correct, the VIIIth Stanza was not in print before; the last but one, of the late Edition, being none of the King’s, gives place to this. My second Part having stood its Ground, has engaged me to keep a little more Company with these comical Characters, having Gentlemens Health and Pleasure, and the good Manners of the Vulgar in View: The main Design of Comedy being to represent the Folies and Mistakes of low Life in a just Light, making them appear as Ridiculous as they really are; that each who is a Spectator, may evite his being the 466

Notes to Poems 1721 Object of Laughter. Notwithstanding all this my publick spirited Pains, I am well assured there are a few heavy Heads, who will bring down the Thick of their Cheeks to the Sides of their Mouths, and richly Stupid, alledge there’s somethings in it have a Meaning. Well! I own it; and think it handsomer in a few Lines to say Something, than talk a great Deal and mean Nothing: Pray, is there any Thing vicious or unbecoming, in saying, Mens Liths and Limbs are supple when intoxicated? Does it not shew, that worse than brutal excessive Drinking, enervates and unhindges a Man’s Constitution, and makes him uncapable of performing Divine, Moral, or natural Duties. There is the Moral; and believe me, I could raise many useful Notes from every Character, which the Ingenious will presently find out. Great Wits sometimes may gloriously offend, And rise to Faults, true Criticks dare not mend, From vulgar Bounds, with brave Disorder part; And snatch a Grace beyond the reach of Art. Pope. Further, when I speak of taking the Test, I seriosly protest I do not mean an Oath of that Name, we all have heard of –––– Likewise, I would intreat every News-Monger, not to offer to pump Politicks from this Poem: Wou’d any imagine, that the first Part which was wrote some hundred Years ago, was the Story of Sherief-Moor, because Rob Roy was named in’t; that my Bawld Bess was ******’ and the Letergae the *******. I like them who sometimes find out Wit the Author never mean’d; but such Ignoramus’s are intolerable. Any Body that has a mind to look sour upon it, may use their freedom. Not laugh, Beasts, Fishes, Fowls, nor Reptiles can, That’s a peculiar Happiness of Man: When govern’d with a prudent cheerful Grace, ’Tis one of the first Beauties of the Face. This advertisement, from ‘Notwithstanding’, to ‘of the Face’ is printed with some variations as a footnote to the text in Poems (1721), on the last page of Canto III (p.131 of that edition). Ramsay’s first quotation in the advertisement is from Pope’s Essay on Criticism (1711), Part I, ll.152-55; the second appears to have been self-penned. The structure of the poem varies across the publications discussed here. There are 24 stanzas in all printed versions of Canto I, and the ordering of stanzas is the same in (4), (5) and Poems (1721). There are differences in ordering between Poems (1721) and Ramsay’s MS transcription. Stanzas 13 (beginning ‘The Buff sae boisterously’) and 22 (beginning ‘By this Tam Taylor’) are not found in Ramsay’s transcription, which has only 22 numbered stanzas. Canto II is an addition by Ramsay which is not found in the Bannatyne MS. Its stanzas appear in the same order across all printed versions. Canto III is also by Ramsay; it too remains consistent across all printed versions. The copy-text follows Ruddiman’s line numbering system as it appears in Poems (1721), 467

Poems which treats the short line at the end of each stanza not as a separate line, but as an extension of the previous line. The two-canto 1718 edition printed by Adams is marked ‘1718a’ below; the 1718 Ruddiman pamphlet is ‘1718b’. Title: ‘Chrysts Kirk of The Grene (MS); [not ‘Christ’s Kirk on the Green’] Subtitle: ‘Canto First by King James the Fifth.’ (1718a); ‘Canto I. By King JAMES I.’ (1718b; 1720) [not ‘Canto I.’] 1. ‘nevir… nor sene’ (MS), ‘ne’er… nor seen’ (1718a), ‘nere… or seen’ (1718b) [not ‘ne’er… or seen.’] 2. ‘Sic Dansing and deray’ (MS), ‘such Dancing and Deray’ (1718a), ‘Sic dancing and deray;’ (1718b, 1720) [not ‘Sic Dancing and Deray;’] 3. ‘Nowthir at Falkland on the Grene’ (MS), ‘Neither at Faukland’ (1718a), ‘Nowther at Falkland’ (1718b, 1720) [not ‘Nowther at Fakland on the Green,’] 4. ‘nor Pebille’ (MS) [not ‘Nor Peebles’] 5. ‘as was of wowers as I wene’ (MS), ‘As was of Wooers as I ween.’ (1718a), ‘As was of Wooers, as I ween,’ (1718b, 1720) [not ‘As was of Woers, as I ween.’] 6. ‘at Chrysts Kirk on a day’ (MS), ‘at Christ’s Kirk on a Day:’ (1718a), ‘At Christ’s-Kirk, on a Day:’ (1718b); ‘At Christ’s-Kirk on a Day:’ (1720) [not ‘At Christ’s Kirk on a Day;’] 7. ‘thair came our Kitties washen clene’ (MS), ‘For there came Katie’ (1718a) [not ‘There cam our Kitties washen clean,’] 8. ‘in new Kirtills of Gray,’ (MS), ‘with her new Gown of Gray’ (1718a) [not ‘In new Kirtles of Gray,’] ‘full’ (MS); ‘Full’ (1718a; all ‘bob-wheel’ refrain lines are italicised in previously printed pamphlets) [not ‘Fou’.] 9. ‘To Danse thir Damysells them Dicht’ (MS), ‘Damosels’ (1718a) [not ‘To dance these Damesels them dight,’] 10. ‘Thir Lasses licht of Laits’ (MS), ‘These Lasses light of Laits,’ (1718a) [not ‘Thir Lasses light of Laits,’] 11. ‘Thair Glovis war of the Raffell richt’ (MS), ‘Raffal’ (1718a) [not ‘Their Gloves were of the Raffel right,’] 12. ‘thair Shene war’ (MS), ‘their Shoes were’ (1718a) [not ‘Thair Shoon were’] 13. ‘Thair Kirtills war of Lincome Licht’ (MS), ‘Lincoln-light’ (1718a) [not ‘Their Kirtles were of Lincome light’] 14. ‘weil Prest’ (MS), ‘many Plaits;’ (1718a) [not ‘Well prest with mony Plaits,’] 15. ‘they war sae nyss when men them nicht’ (MS), ‘Men they neigh’d’ (1718a) [not ‘They were so nice when Men them nicht,’] 16. ‘Squeilt lyke ony Gaits’ (MS), ‘squell’d lik any Gaits’ (1718a) [not ‘squeel’d like ony Gaits’] ‘Full’ (1718a) [not ‘Fou’] 17. ‘Of all thir maidens myld as meid.’ (MS) [not ‘Of all these Maidens mild as Mead,’] 18. ‘Gillyie’ (MS), ‘was none so gimp as Gillie,’ (1718a), ‘jmp [sic]’ (1718b) [not ‘Was nane sae jimp as Gilly,’] 19. ‘Rude was reid’ (MS); ‘As any Rose’ (1718a) [not ‘As ony Rose her Rude was red,’] 20. ‘lyke the Lillie’ (MS), ‘Lillie’ (1718a) [not ‘Her Lire was like the Lilly,’] 21. ‘fow yellow yellow was her heid.’ (MS), ‘But yellow yello’ (1718a), ‘Fow 468

Notes to Poems 1721 Yellow, Yellow’ (1718b); ‘Fow yellow, yellow’ (1720) [not ‘Fou yellow, yellow was her Head,’] 22. ‘but she of Lufe sae silly’ (MS), ‘and she of Love so silly,’ (1718a) [not ‘But she of Love was silly;’] 24. ‘she wald haif but sweit willie’ (MS), ‘she would have none but Willie’ (1718a) [not ‘She wald have but sweet Willy’] ‘Allane, at Chts Kirk &c – that Day’ (MS), ‘Alone’ (1718a) [not ‘Alane that Day.’] 25. ‘Sche skornit Jack Jok and skrapit at him’ (MS), ‘She scorn’d Jack, and scripped at him,’ (1718a) [not ‘She scorned Jack, and scraped at him,’] 26. ‘murgont him with mokks’ (MS), ‘murgon’d him with Mocks’ (1718b) [not ‘murgeon’d him with Mocks’] 27. ‘he wald haif Luvit sche wald not lat him’ (MS), ‘He would have lov’d her, she would not let him’ (1718a) [not ‘He wad have loo’d, she wad na let him,’] 28. ‘for all his yellow Lokks’ (MS), ‘for all’ (1718a), ‘for a’ (1718b) [not ‘For a’ his yellow Locks’] 29. ‘bad gae Chat him’ (MS), ‘bade go chat him’ (1718a) [not ‘bade gae chat him’] 30. ‘Sche compt him not twa Clokks’ (MS), ‘she counted him not two Clocks:’ (1718a) [not ‘Counted him not twa Clocks;’] 31. ‘his schort Ja Goun sett him’ (MS), ‘So shamefully his short Jack set him’ (1718a) [not ‘Sae shamefully his short Gown sett him’] 32. ‘his limms wer lyk twa Rokks’ (MS), ‘two Rocks’ (1718a) [not ‘His Legs were like twa Rocks,’] ‘Sche said at &c. that Day.’ (MS) [not ‘Or Rungs that Day.’] 33. ‘Thome Lutar was thair menstrall meit’ (MS), ‘Tom Lutter’ (1718a) [not ‘Tam Lutter was their Minstrel meet,’] 34. ‘O Lord! As he could lanss’ (MS), ‘good Lord, how he could lance;’ (1718a), ‘Lance’ (1718b) [not ‘Good Lord how he cou’d lance,’] 35. ‘he Playt sae schil and sang sae sweit’ (MS), ‘so shril, and sang so sweet’ (1718a) [not ‘He play’d sae shill, and sang sae sweet,’] 37. ‘Auld Lichtfute ther he did forleit’ (MS), ‘Old Lightfoot there he could forleet’ (1718a) [not ‘Auld Lightfoot there he did forleet’] 38. ‘and counter fitted franss’ (MS), ‘counterfitted France,’ (1718a, 1718b, 1720) [not ‘And counterfeited France:’] 39. ‘usd himself as man discreit’ (MS), ‘held him like a Man discreet’ (1718a) [not ‘us’d himself as Man discreet,’] 40. ‘and up tuke moreis danss’ (MS), ‘and up the Morice Dance’ (1718a) [not ‘And up the Morice Dance’] ‘full Loud, at &c that Day’ (MS) [not ‘He took that Day.’] 41. ‘Then Stevin came Stepand in with Stends’ (MS), ‘Then Stephen came stepping in with stends,’ (1718a), ‘stepand’ (1718b) [not ‘Then Steen came steppand in with Stends,’] 42. ‘Nae rynk micht him Arreist’ (MS), ‘no rink’ (1718a) [not ‘Nae Rink might his arrest:’] 43. ‘Platfute he Bobbit up with bends’ (MS), ‘Splayfoot… many bends,’ (1718a) [not ‘Plaitfoot did bob with mony Bends,’] 44. ‘for Mald he maid requeist’ (MS), ‘for Masie he made request,’ (1718a), ‘request,’ (1718b, 1720) [not ‘For Mause he made Request;’] 469

Poems 45. ‘He lap while while… lends,’ (1718a) [not ‘He lap till he lay on his Lends,’] 46. ‘but Rysand was sae Preist’ (MS), ‘and rising was so preast,’ (1718a) [not ‘But risand was sae prest,’] 47. ‘quhyle that he hoistit at baith ends’ (MS), ‘While he did hoast at both the Ends’ (1718a), ‘whostit’ (1718b) [not ‘While that he hostit at baith Ends,’] 48. ‘feist’ (MS); ‘Honour’ (1718a) [not ‘For honour of the Feast’] ‘and danst, at &c that Day’ (MS) [not ‘And danc’d that Day.’] 49. ‘Syne Robene Roy begoud to revell’ (MS), ‘Then Robin Roy’ (1718a) [not ‘Syne Robin Roy began to revel’] 50. ‘and Dawny to him druggist’ (MS), ‘and Tousie to him drugged;’ (1718a) [not ‘And Dawny to him rugged:’] 51. ‘Let be quoth Jack Jok & cawd him jevell’ (MS), ‘call’d him Jevel’ (1718a) [not ‘Let me, quote Jack, and cau’d him Jevel’] 52. ‘and be the Tail him tuggit’ (MS), ‘Tail him rugged,’ (1718a) [not ‘And by the Tail him tugged;’] 53. ‘cleikit to cavell’ (MS), ‘Then Kensie clicked to a Kevel,’ (1718a) [not ‘The Kensie cleekit to a Cavel,’] 54. ‘But Lord theim how they Luggit,’ (MS), ‘God wots as they two lugged’ (1718a) [not ‘But Lord as they twa lugged’] 55. ‘Thay Partit hir manly with a nevell’ (MS), ‘They parted there upon a Nevel,’ (1718a) [not ‘They parted manly on a Navel:’] 56. ‘I trow that hair was ruggit’ (MS) [not ‘Men say that Hair was rugged’] ‘betwixt them, at ch &c that day’ (MS) [not ‘Between them twa.’] 56-64. The stanza beginning ‘Ane bent a Bow’ and ending ‘that Day.’ does not appear in 1718a. 57. ‘coud steir him’ (MS) [not ‘did steer him,’] 58. ‘grit Skayth wesd to haif skard him’ (MS), ‘skaith’ (1718b) [not ‘Great Skaith was’t to have scar’d him’] 59. ‘affeir him’ (MS) [not ‘affear him’] 60. ‘the toder said dirdum dardum’ (MS), ‘Dirdum Dardum,’ (1718a) [not ‘Th’other said, Dirdum, Dardum:’] 61. ‘baith the Cheiks he thocht to cheir him’ (MS) [not ‘baith the Cheeks he thought to sheer him,’] 62. ‘erss haif Chard him’ (MS) [not ‘Arse have char’d him’] 63. ‘be ane akerbreid it came not near him’ (MS) [not ‘B’ane Akerbraid it came na neer him,’] 64. ‘I can not tell quhat mard him’ (MS) [not ‘I canna tell what marr’d him,’] ‘Thair at &c: – that Day’ (MS) [not ‘Sae wide that Day.’] 65. ‘freynd of his cryd fy’ (MS), ‘Friend of his cry’d fy,’ (1718a, 1718b, 1720) [not ‘Friend of his cry’d, Fy,’] 66. ‘and up ane arrow’ (MS), ‘and forth an Arrow’ (1718a) [not ‘And up an Arrow’] 67. ‘he forgit sae furiously’ (MS), ‘He forged it so fiercefully,’ (1718a) [not ‘He forged it sae furiously,’] 68. ‘flenders’ (MS), ‘flinders’ (1718a, 1718b, 1720) [not ‘Flinders’] 69. ‘Such was the Grace of God,’ (1718a) [not ‘Sae was the Will of God,’] 70. ‘Tre bene trew’ (MS), ‘Tree been true;’ (1718a) [not ‘Tree been true,’] 71. ‘that kend’ (MS), ‘who knew’ (1718a) [not ‘wha kend’] 470

Notes to Poems 1721 72. ‘he wald haif slain enow [cancelled]’ (MS), ‘slain a new’ (1720) [not ‘That he had slain anew,] 73-80. This stanza, beginning ‘A yap young Man’, appears in the MS transcription at l.89. 73. ‘A yaip yung man that stude him neist’ (MS), ‘niest’ (1718a) [not ‘A yap young Man that stood him neist,’] 74. ‘Lowds aft a Shot with yre’ (MS), ‘soon bent his Bow in ire,’ (1718a) [not ‘Loos’d aff a Shot with Ire,’] 75. ‘he Ettlat the bern in at the breist’ (MS), ‘And etled’ (1718a) [not ‘He etled the Bairn in at the Breast’] 76. ‘owre the byre’ (MS), ‘ov’r the Bire’ (1718a) [not ‘o’er the Bire’] 77. ‘And cry’d fy, he hath slain a Priest’ (1718a) [not ‘And cry’d, Fy, he has slain a Priest,’] 78. ‘a myle beyond a myre’ (MS), ‘a Mile beyond the Mire:’ (1718a) [not ‘A Mile beyond a Mire;’] 79. ‘Both Bow and Bagg from him’ (1718a) [not ‘Then Bow and Bag frae him’] 80. ‘ferse as fyre’ (MS), ‘fast as Fire’ (1718a) [not ‘fierce as Fire’] ‘at &c – that Day’ (MS), ‘From’ (1718a) [not ‘Frae Flint that Day.’] 81-88. This stanza, beginning ‘Ane hasty Hensure’, appears in the MS transcription at l.73, i.e. in place of the previous stanza. 81. ‘callit Hary’ (MS), ‘An hasty Kinsman called Hary,’ (1718a) [not ‘Ane hasty Hensure, called Hary’] 82. ‘quha was ane Archer hynd’ (MS), ‘that was an Archer keen,’ (1718a) [not ‘Wha was ane Archer, hynd’] 83. ‘Tytt up a taikle withouten Tary’ (MS), ‘Tyed up a Tackle’ (1718a); ‘withouten’ (1718b, 1720) [not ‘Fit up a Tackle withoutten tarry,’] 84. ‘torment’ (MS); ‘I trow the Man was teen:’ (1718a) [not ‘That Torment sae him tynd.’] 85. ‘I wate not quhidder his hand coud vary’ (MS), ‘I wot not whether his Hand did vary,’ (1718a) [not ‘I watna whither’s Hand cou’d vary,’] 86. ‘or the Man was his freynd’ (MS), ‘or his Foe was his Friend:’ (1718a) [not ‘Or the Man was his Friend;’] 87. ‘for he escapist throw michts’ (MS), ‘But he escap’d by the Mights’ (1718a) [not ‘For he escap’d throw’ mights’] 88. ‘as man that nae ill meind’ (MS), ‘as one that nothing mean’d’ (1718a) [not ‘As ane that nae ill mean’d’] ‘but gude, at Chts Kirk on the Grene that Day.’ (MS), ‘But good that Day.’ (1718a) [not ‘But Good that Day.’] 89. ‘Lowry lyk a Lyon lap’ (MS), ‘Lawrie like a Lion lap,’ (1718a), ‘Lawrie like a Lyon lap,’ (1718b); ‘Laurie like a Lyon lap,’ [not ‘Laurie like a Lion lap,’] 90. ‘and sone a flane can fedder’ (MS), ‘and soon a Flain could fedder:’ (1718a) [not ‘And soon a Flane can fedder;’] 91. ‘he hecht to pers him at the pap’ (MS), ‘He height to pierce him at the Pape,’ (1718a) [not ‘He hecht to pierce him at the Pap,’] 92. ‘theron’ (MS) [not ‘Thereon’] 93. ‘Wamb a wap’ (1718a) [not ‘Wame a Wap,’] 94. ‘it buft lyk ony Bledder’ (MS), ‘it buff’d like any Bladder,’ (1718a) [not ‘It bufft like ony Bladder;’] 471

Poems 95. ‘but Saw his fortune was & hap’ (MS), ‘He escaped so, such was his hap;’ (1718a) [not ‘But sae his Fortune was and Hap,’] 96. ‘made of ledder’ (MS), ‘his Doublet was of Leather’ (1718a) [not ‘His Doublet made of Leather’] ‘Saift him, at &c – that Day’ (MS), ‘Full fine that Day.’ (1718a) [not ‘Sav’d him that Day.’] 97-104. This stanza, beginning ‘The Buff sae boisterously’, does not appear in Ramsay’s MS transcription. 97. ‘so’ (1718a) [not ‘sae’] 98. ‘that he to th’Earth’ (1718a) [not ‘He to the Earth’] 99. ‘other’ (1718a) [not ‘tither’] 101. ‘forth’ (1718a) [not ‘furth’] 102. ‘found’ (1718a) [not ‘fand’] 103. ‘routs they raised him.’ (1718a), ‘raisd’ (1718b) [not ‘Routs on’s Arse they rais’d him,’] 104. ‘sown’ (1718a) [not ‘Sown’] ‘Fra’ (1718a) [not ‘Frae’] 105-12. The stanza beginning ‘With Forks and Flails’ appears later in 1718a, at l.145, and earlier in Ramsay’s MS transcription, at l.97. 105. ‘thay lent grit slaps’ (MS), ‘they lent them Slaps,’ (1718a) [not ‘they lent great Slaps,’] 106. ‘and flang togidder lyk friggs’ (MS), ‘and flew together with Frigs:’ (1718a) [not ‘And flang together like Frigs;’] 107. ‘with Bowgars of Barns thay best blew Kapps’ (MS), ‘With Bougres of Barns they pierc’d blue Caps’ (1718a) [not ‘With Bougers of Barns they best blew Caps,’] 108. ‘quhyle thay of Berns maid Briggs’ (MS), ‘and of their Bairns made Briggs:’ (1718a) [not ‘While they of Bairns made Brigs.’] 109. ‘The Reird raise rudely with the sthe rapps’ (MS), ‘The Rare rose rudely with their Raps,’ (1718a) [not ‘The Rierd raise rudely with the Raps,’] 110. ‘quhen rungs war laid’ (MS), ‘then Rungs were laid’ (1718a) [not ‘When Rungs were laid’] 111. ‘the Wyfis came furth with Crys & Clapps’ (MS), ‘The Wives came forth with Cries and Claps,’ (1718a) [not ‘The Wives came furth wi’ Crys and Claps,’] 112. ‘Lo quhair my Lyking liggs’ (MS), ‘See where my Likeing ligs’ (1718a), ‘liking liggs’ (1718b) [not ‘See where my Liking liggs’] ‘quoth that, at &c. that Day’ (MS), ‘Full low this Day.’ (1718a) [not ‘Fou low this Day!’] 113-20. This stanza, beginning ‘They girned and let Gird’, appears later in 1718a, at l.137, and earlier in Ramsay’s MS transcription, at l.105. 113. ‘Thay Girnit and lute gird with grains’ (MS), ‘They girn’d and glowred all at anes,’ (1718a) [not ‘They girned and let Gird with Grains,’] 114. ‘ilk Gossip uder Greivt’ (MS), ‘each Gossip other grieved:’ (1718a) [not ‘Ilk Gossip other griev’d:’] 115. ‘Sum Strak with Strings sum gaddert steins’ (MS), ‘Some striked Strings, some gathered Stanes,’ (1718a) [not ‘Some strake with Stings, some gather’d Stains,’] 472

Notes to Poems 1721 116. ‘Sum fled and ill mischevt’ (MS), ‘Some fled, and some relieved.’ (1718a) [not ‘Some fled and ill mischiev’d.’] 117. ‘the Menstrall wan within twa wains’ (MS), ‘The Minstrel used quiet Means,’ (1718a) [not ‘The Minstrel wan within twa Wains,’] 118. ‘that day full weil he preivt’ (MS), ‘prieved,’ (1718a) [not ‘That Day he wisely priev’d;’] 119. ‘with unbirst bains’ (MS), ‘with unbruis’d Banes,’ (1718a) [not ‘wi’ unbruis’d Bains,’] 120. ‘quhair fechtairs war mischeivt’ (MS), ‘mischieved’ (1718a) [not ‘Where Fighters were mischiev’d’] ‘for evir at &c — that Day’ (MS), ‘Full ill that Day.’ (1718a) [not ‘Fou ill that Day.’] 121-28. This stanza, beginning ‘Heich Hutchon with a Hisil Rice’, appears earlier in both 1718a and Ramsay’s MS transcription, at l.113. 121. ‘Hissill Ryss’ (MS); ‘Then Hutchon with a Hazel Rice’ (1718a); ‘Hisill’ (1718b, 1720) [not ‘Heich Hutchon with a Hisil Rice,’] 122. ‘red can throw them rummill’ (MS), ‘red gan through them rummil’ (1718a) [not ‘red can throw them rummil’] 123. ‘muddillt them doun lyk ony Myss’ (MS), ‘muddl’d them down like any Mice’ (1718a) [not ‘maw’d them down like ony Mice’] 124. ‘nae baity bummill’ (MS), ‘no petty bummil,’ (1718a) [not ‘na Baity Bummil:’] 125. ‘Thocht he was wicht he was nocht wyss’ (MS), ‘Tho’… not wise,’ (1718a) [not ‘Tho he was wight, he was na wise,’] 126. ‘with sic Jangleurs to jummill’ (MS), ‘with such jutors to jummil:’ (1718a) [not ‘With sic Jangleurs to jummil;’] 127. ‘for frae his Thoume thay dang a Sklyss’ (MS), ‘For from his Thumb there flew a Slice’ (1718a) [not ‘For frae his Thumb they dang a Slice,’] 128. ‘quhyle he Cryd barla fummill’ (MS), ‘While he cry’d barlafummil,’ (1718a) [not ‘While he cry’d, Barlafumil,’] ‘I am [cancelled] slain, at &c – this day’ (MS) [not ‘I’m slain this Day.’] 129-36. This stanza, beginning ‘When that he saw his Blood’, appears earlier in both Ramsay’s MS transcription and 1718a, at l.121. 129. ‘Quhen that he saw his blude sae red’ (MS), ‘so red’ (1718a) [not ‘When that he saw his Blood sae red’] 130. ‘micht nae man’ (MS), ‘might no man’ (1718a) [not ‘might nae Man’] 131. ‘he weind it had bene for auld feid’ (MS), ‘He trow’d it had been for old feed;’ (1718a) [not ‘He ween’d it had been for auld Feed,’] 132. ‘he thocht ane cryd haif at him’ (MS) [not ‘He thought and bade have at him;’] 133. ‘gart his feit defend his heid’ (MS), ‘made his Feet defend his Head’ (1718a) [not ‘gart his Feet defend his Head’] 135. ‘quhyl he was past out of all pleid’ (MS), ‘While he was past out of their Dread:’ (1718a) [not ‘While he was past out of all Plead,’] 136. ‘thay sould bene Swift’ (MS), ‘they must be swift’ (1718a) [not ‘He foud been swift’] ‘Throw Speid at &c — that Day’ (MS), ‘Through Speed that Day.’ (1718a) [not ‘Throw Speed that Day.’] 473

Poems 137-44. This stanza, beginning ‘The Town Souter in Grief’, appears earlier in Ramsay’s MS transcription, at l.129, and later in 1718a, at l.153. 137. ‘The town Soutar in Greif’ (MS), ‘The black Souter of Braith’ (1718a) [not ‘The Town Souter in Grief’] 138. ‘wyfe’ (MS) [not ‘Wife’] 139. ‘in blude all browden’ (MS), ‘in Black all browden,’ (1718a) [not ‘with Blood a browden,’] 140. ‘he graint lyk ony Gaist’ (MS), ‘he girned like a Ghaist,’ (1718a) [not ‘He grain’d like ony Ghaist;’] 141. ‘her Glitterend hair that was Sae Gowden’ (MS) [not ‘Her glittering Hair that was so gowden’] 142. ‘Sae hard in lufe him laist’ (MS), ‘her Love fast from him laist,’ (1718a) [not ‘So hard in Love him lac’d,’] 143. ‘That for her saik he was not yowden’ (MS), ‘That for his Sake she was unyawden’ (1718a) [not ‘That for her Sake he was not yowden,’] 144. ‘and mair, at &c — that day’ (MS) [not ‘And mair that Day.’] 145-52. This stanza, beginning ‘The Miller was of manly Make’, appears earlier in both Ramsay’s MS transcription, at l.137, and in 1718a, at l.105. 145. ‘mak’ (MS) [not ‘Make’] 146. ‘it was no Mowes;’ (1718a) [not ‘was nae Mows;’] 147. ‘Ther durst not ten cum him to tak’ (MS), ‘There durst not Ten-some there him take’ (1718a) [not ‘There durst nae tensome there him take’] 148. ‘Sae noytet he thair Pows’ (MS), ‘so cowed he their Powes,’ (1718a) [not ‘Sae noyted he their Pows:’] 149. ‘the Buschment hale… brak’ (MS), ‘The Bushment whole… brake,’ (1718a) [not ‘The Bushment heal… brake,’] 150. ‘bikkert him with’ (MS), ‘bickered him with’ (1718a) [not ‘bickered him wi’’] 151. ‘Syne traytorly behind his bak’ (MS), ‘Then traitorously behind his Back’ (1718a) [not ‘Syne traitorously behind his Back,’] 152. ‘thay hewt him on the Hows’ (MS), ‘they hack’d him on the Howes’ (1718a), ‘hewt’ (1718b) [not ‘They hew’d him on the Howes,’] ‘behind at &c —— that Day’ (MS) [not ‘Behind that Day.’] 153-60. This stanza, beginning ‘Twa that were Headsmen of the Herd’, appears earlier in both Ramsay’s MS transcription, at l.145, and in 1718a, at l.129. 153. ‘Twa that war herdmen of the herd’ (MS), ‘Two that were’ (1718a) [not ‘Twa that were Headsmen of the Herd’] 154. ‘on udder ran lyk Rams’ (MS), ‘They rusht on other like Rams;’ (1718a) [not ‘On ither rans like Rams,’] 155. ‘then followit seymen richt unaffeird’ (MS), ‘The other four which were unfear’d’ (1718a) [not ‘They follow’d, seeming right unfear’d,’] 156. ‘bet on with barrow-trams’ (MS), ‘Barrow Trams.’ (1718a) [not ‘Beat on with Barrow-Trams:’] 157. ‘but quhair thair Gobs they were ungeird’ (MS), ‘And where their Gobs were ungear’d’ (1718a) [not ‘But where their Gabs were ungear’d’] 158. ‘Gams,’ (1718a) [not ‘Gams;’] 159. ‘quhyl bludy berkit war thair Baird’ (MS), ‘While all that bloody was their Beards,’ (1718a) [not ‘While bloody barkn’d was their Beards,’] 474

Notes to Poems 1721 160. ‘as they had worriet Lamms’ (MS) [not ‘As they had worried Lambs,’] ‘maist lyk at &c — that Day’ (MS), ‘Most like that Day.’ (1718a) [not ‘Maist like that Day.’] 161-68. This stanza, beginning ‘The Wives keist up a hideous Yell’, appears earlier in Ramsay’s MS transcription, at l.153, and later in 1718a, at l.169. 161. ‘wyves Keist up a hideous yell’ (MS), ‘Wives the gave up a hideous yell,’ (1718a) [not ‘Wives keist up a hideous Yell,’] 162. ‘quhen all thir yunkers yokkit’ (MS) [not ‘When all these Yonkiers yoked;’] 163. ‘Als ferss as ony fure flauchts fell’ (MS) [not ‘As fierce as Flags of Fireflaughts fell,’] 164. ‘freiks to the feilds thay flokit’ (MS) [not ‘Frieks to the Fields they flocked;’] 165. ‘uder’ (MS) [not ‘others’] 166. ‘quhyl blude at breists out bokit’ (MS), ‘On Breast while Blood outboaked,’ (1718a) [not ‘On Breasts, while Blood out boaked;’] 167. ‘So rudely rang’ (1718a) [not ‘Sae rudly rang’] 168. ‘all the Steipill Rokkit’ (MS), ‘all the Steeple rocked’ (1718a), ‘a the Steeple rocked’ (1718b, 1720) [not ‘a’ the Steeple rocked’] ‘for reid at Cht Kirk on the Grene that day’ (MS) [not ‘For Dread that Day.’] 169-76. This stanza, beginning ‘By this Tam Taylor was in’s Gear’, does not appear in Ramsay’s MS transcription; it appears later in 1718a, at l.177. 169. ‘Tom Taylor was in his Gear,’ (1718a) [not Tam Taylor was in’s Gear,’] 170. ‘when he heard the common Bell,’ (1718a) [not ‘When that he heard the Bell,’] 171. ‘Stear’ (1718a) [not ‘steer,’] 172. ‘himsell,’ (1718a) [not ‘himself:’] 173. ‘He went to fight with such a Fear’ (1718a) [not ‘He gaed to fight in sic a Fear,’] 176. ‘knocking Mell,’ (1718a), ‘Knocking-Mell’ (1718b) [not ‘Knocking-mell,’] 177-84. This stanza, beginning ‘When they had bierd like baited Bulls’, appears earlier in Ramsay’s MS transcription, at l.161. It also appears earlier in 1718a, at l.161. In its place in 1718a is the following stanza from Watson’s Choice Collection (I:7, see above): The Bridegroom brought a Pint of Ale, And bade the Piper drink it, Drink it quoth he, and it so Stale, ashrew me if I think it. The Bride her Maidens stood near by, and said it was not blinked, And Bartagesie the Bride so gay, upon him fast she winked Full soon that day. 177. ‘quhen thay had beirt lyk’ (MS), ‘When they had beir’d like’ (1718a) [not ‘When they had bierd like:’] 178. ‘And branewood brynt in bails’ (MS), ‘the Bone-fires burns like Bails,’ (1718a) [not ‘And Brain-wood brynt in Bails;’] 179. ‘Thay wer as Meik as ony mulis’ (MS), ‘And then they grew as meek as Mules’ (1718a) [not ‘They were as meek as any Mules;’] 475

Poems 180. ‘that mangit ar’ (MS), ‘That wearied are’ (1718a) [not ‘That mangit are’] 181. ‘for faintnes ther forfochtin fulis’ (MS), ‘For those forfoughten tyred Fools’ (1718a) [not ‘For Faintness thae forfoughten Fools’] 182. ‘doun like flawchtir fails’ (MS), ‘down like flaughtered Frails,’ (1718a) [not ‘down like flaughter’d Fails;’] 183. ‘freshmen came in and haild the dulis’ (MS), ‘Fresh Men came in and hail’d the Dools,’ (1718) [not ‘Fresh Men came in, and hal’d the Dools,’] ‘bedene at &c ——— that Day’ (MS) [not ‘Bedeen that Day.’] 185-92. This stanza, beginning ‘When a’ was done, Dick with an Aix’, appears earlier in Ramsay’s MS transcription, at l.169. 185. ‘Quhen all was done dik with ane aix’ (MS), ‘When all was done Dick with an Ax’ (1718a) [not ‘When a’ was done, Dick with an Aix,’] 186. ‘forth to fell a Fother,’ (1718a) [not ‘furth to fell a Fiddir,’] 187. ‘Quod he quhair are yon hangit Smaiks’ (MS), ‘Quoth he, where are you Whoreson Smaiks’ (1718a) [not ‘Quoth he, Where are yon hangit Smaiks,’] 188. ‘richt now wald slain my brudder’ (MS), ‘rightnow that hurt my Brother?’ (1718a) [not ‘That wad have slain my Brither?’] 189. ‘his wyfe’ (MS); ‘go hame, Gib Glaiks,’ (1718a) [not ‘His Wife bad him gae hame Gib Glaicks,’] 190. ‘and Sae did Meg his mudder’ (MS), ‘and so did Meg his Mother;’ (1718a) [not ‘And sae did Meg his Mither;’] 191. ‘gaif them baith thair paiks’ (MS), ‘gave them both their Paiks’ (1718a) [not ‘gave them baith their Paiks’] 192. ‘nane udder’ (MS), ‘no other.’ (1718a) [not ‘nae ither’] ‘for feir at chrts Kirk of the grene that Day.’ (MS) [not ‘But them that Day.’] Ramsay’s MS transcription ends: ‘finis Quod King James the first’ Canto II Subtitle: ‘Canto Second by Allan Ramsay.’ (1718a); ‘CANTO II. By Allan Ramsay.’ [not ‘Canto II.’] 2. ‘sair’ (1718a); ‘Haiship’ (1718b); ‘Spulie’ (1718a, 1718b); ‘Spulzie’ (1720) [not ‘Sair Harship and great Spulie,’]; henceforth every even-numbered line in 1718a begins in lower-case. 5. ‘bald’ (1718a, 1718b) [not ‘Bauld’] 6. ‘wi a great Kale’ (1718a, 1718b) [not ‘wi’ a great Kail’] 7. ‘Bellyflaught’ (1718a) [not ‘bellyflaught,’] 8. ‘a’ (1718a, 1718b) [not ‘a’’] ‘Fou fast that Day.’ (1718a, 1718b, 1720) [not ‘Fou fast that Day.’]; henceforth each bob-wheel refrain line in 1718a, 1718b and 1720 appears in italics, as in Canto I. 9. ‘wi’ (1718a, 1718b) [not ‘wi’’] 10. ‘Tho’’ (1718a, 1718b) [not ‘Tho’] 12. ‘wirry Kows:’ (1718a, 1718b) [not ‘Wirry-kows:’] 13. ‘Quoth some who’ (1718a) [not ‘Quoth some, who’] 14. ‘a’ (1718a, 1718b, 1720) [not ‘a’’] 15. ‘Brouillement’ (1718a, 1718b) [not ‘Brulziement’] 16. ‘Mows’ (1718a) [not ‘Mows,’] 18. ‘war,’ (1718a) [not ‘war;’] 476

Notes to Poems 1721 19. ‘Ise’ (1718a) [not ‘I’se’] 21. ‘Wi’ (1718a, 1718b) [not ‘Wi’’] 23. ‘Bonnet, to the Bent’ (1718a) [not ‘Bonnet to the Bent,’] 24. ‘dadded’ (1718a, 1718b) [not ‘daddit’] 25. ‘Tam Taylor wha’ (1718a, 1718b, 1720) [not ‘Tam Taylor, wha’] 26. ‘him,’ (1718a) [not ‘him;’] 27. ‘wi an unky’ (1718a, 1718b) [not ‘wi’ an unco’] 29. ‘Bald’ (1718a, 1718b) [not ‘Bauld’] 32. ‘shoar’d she wou’d’ (1718a, 1718b) [not ‘shored she would’] 33. ‘a wi’ (1718a, 1718b), ‘a wi’’ (1720) [not ‘a’ wi’’] 35. ‘redd’ (1718a, 1718b); [not ‘red’] 37. ‘for a Happ upo’ the Sands’ (1718a, 1718b, 1720) [not ‘for a Hap to shaw their Brands,’] 38. ‘their’ (1718a, 1718b, 1720) [not ‘there’] 39. ‘Whare’ (1718a) [not ‘Where’] 40. ‘ilky’ (1718a, 1718b) [not ‘ilka’] 42. ‘na’ (1718a, 1718b) [not ‘nae’] 43. ‘For be’ (1718a, 1718b) [not ‘For by’] 44. ‘gee’ (1718a, 1718b) [not ‘gi’e’] 45. ‘Ye’ (1718b, 1720) [not ‘ye’] 46. ‘O figh,’ (1718a) [not ‘O figh!’] 47. ‘be quait,’ (1718a) [not ‘be quait;’] 49. ‘Gossies, sat and keen,’ (1718b) [not ‘Gossies sat, and keen’] 50. ‘birle,’ (1718a) [not ‘birle;’] 53. ‘wi’ (1718a, 1718b) [not ‘wi’’] 55. ‘Folk wad threep that she’ (1718a) [not ‘Fouk wad threep, that she’] 56. ‘Skirle’ (1718a, 1718b, 1720) [not ‘skirle’] 57. ‘Miller haff and haff’ (1718a, 1718b, 1720) [not ‘Miller, haff and haff,’] 60. ‘Gee me Pattie’s Mill:’ (1718a, 1718b) [not ‘Gi’e me Paty’s-Mill’] ‘The Lass of Peattie’s Mill’, Ramsay’s own song, published in Poems (1721). 61. ‘Bawk-high,’ (1718a) [not ‘Bawk-hight,’] 63. ‘Caf’ (1718a, 1718b, 1720) [not ‘Cawf’] 65. ‘niest’ (1718a, 1718b, 1720) [not ‘neist’] 66. ‘took;’ (1718a, 1718b, 1720) [not ‘took,’] 67. ‘Faulkland’ (1718a, 1718b) [not ‘Falkland’] 68. ‘Book:’ (1718a, 1718b) [not ‘Book;’] 71. ‘Gae’ (1718a, 1718b); ‘Ded’ (1718b) [not ‘Ga’e… Dad,’] 72. ‘Videlicet, the Yuke’ (1718a, 1718b) [not ‘Videlicet the Yuke’] 73. ‘a’ (1718a, 1718b, 1720) [not ‘a’’] 75. ‘babb’d’ (1718a, 1718b, 1720) [not ‘bab’d’] 76. ‘a’ (1718a, 1718b) [not ‘a’’] 79. ‘took’ (1718a) [not ‘hit’] 80. ‘hawl’ (1718a, 1718b, 1720) [not ‘haul’] 82. ‘Gae’d’ (1718a, 1718b, 1720) [not ‘Gaed’] 84. ‘wi’ (1718a, 1718b) [not ‘wi’’] 86. ‘They’l’ (1718a, 1718b) [not ‘They’ll’] 87. ‘Gawssie’ (1718a, 1718b, 1720) [not ‘Gawssie’] ‘sick’ (1718a) [not ‘Sic’] 477

Poems 91. ‘fow’ (1718a, 1718b), ‘fu’’ (1720) [not ‘fou’] 93. ‘hae’ (1718a, 1718b) [not ‘ha’e’] 94. ‘a’ (1718a, 1718b, 1720) [not ‘a’’] 95. ‘fitted the Floor syne wi the Bride’ (1718a), ‘fitted the Floor syn wi the bride’ (1718b); ‘fitted’ (1720) [not ‘He fits the Floor syne wi’ the Bride’] 99. ‘Kiss and Dance wi’ (1718a, 1718b) [not ‘kiss and dance wi’’] 100. ‘Dame.’ (1718a, 1718b) [not ‘Dame:’] 102. ‘Back-gate’ (1718a), ‘back-gate’ (1718b, 1720) [not ‘back gate’] 103. ‘Beckin, she loot a fearfou’ (1718a, 1718b), ‘Beckin, she loot a fearfu’’ (1720) [not ‘Beckin she loot a fearfu’’] ‘Blush that Day.’ (1718a, 1720) [not ‘blush that Day.’] 107. ‘ilky… unky’ (1718a, 1718b) [not ‘ilka… unco’] 108. ‘Folk’ (1718a, 1718b) [not ‘Fouk’] 109. ‘wi’ (1718a, 1718b) [not ‘wi’’] 110. ‘o’ (1718a, 1718b) [not ‘o’’] 112. ‘wad’ (1718a, 1718b) [not ‘wa’d’] 114. ‘betwixt ilky’ (1718a), ‘betwisht ilky’ (1718b) [not ‘betwisht ilka’] 115. ‘Lugs, in’t like’ (1718a, 1718b) [not ‘Lugs in’t like’] 121. ‘Later-gae of Hally’ (1718a), ‘Letter-gae of hally’ (1718b), ‘Letter-gae of haly’ (1720) [not ‘Latter-gae of haly’] 122. ‘Boordhead’ (1718a, 1718b) [not ‘Boord-head,’] 123. ‘a’ (1718a, 1718b, 1720) [not ‘a’’] 125. ‘Clark Lear’ (1718a, 1718b, 1720) [not ‘Clark-Lear’] 129. ‘Strute twa’ (1718a) [not ‘strute, twa’] 130. ‘Be his Oxter’ (1718a, 1718b) [not ‘Be’s Oxter’] 132. ‘Schollar’ (1718a, 1718b) [not ‘Scholar’] 133. ‘Reel’ (1718a), ‘Reel,’ (1718b) [not ‘reel,’] 134. ‘Rampaadge’ (1718a), ‘Rampadge’ (1718b) [not ‘rampage’] 135. ‘her spinning Wheel’ (1718a) [not ‘the Spining-wheel’] 136. ‘Rix Dollar’ (1718a, 1718b) [not ‘Rix-dollar’] 138. ‘their Rest’ (1718a) [not ‘his Rest’] 140. ‘wi Sleep and Drinking’ (1718a), ‘Wi Sleep, and Drinking’ (1718b) [not ‘Wi’ sleep and Drinking’] 141. ‘others… Stomach tight’ (1718a), ‘Stomach tight’ (1718b, 1720) [not ‘ithers… Stomach-tight’ 147. ‘wi Brachen, some wi’ (1718a, 1718b) [wi’ Brachan, some wi’’] 148. ‘heat’ (1718a, 1718b) [not ‘het’] 151. ‘naithing’ (1718a, 1718b, 1720) [not ‘nathing’] 152. ‘Wi’ (1718a, 1718b, 1720) [not ‘Wi’’] 153. ‘Twice aught’ (1718a, 1718b, 1720) [not ‘Twa Times aught’] 156. ‘Wi’ (1718a, 1718b, 1720) [not ‘Wi’’] 158. ‘Wi’ (1718a, 1718b, 1720) [not ‘Wi’’] 159. ‘syne’ (1718a) [not ‘syn’] 160. ‘Its lane, pat’ (1718a, 1718b) [not ‘Its lane pat’] 167. ‘Bride,’ (1718a, 1718b, 1720) [not ‘Bride:’] 169. ‘Tehee! quo’ Touzie,’ (1718a, 1718b), ‘Tehee ! quoth Touzie,’ (1720) [not ‘Tehee, quoth Touzie,’] 171. ‘ronnd them a’ (1718a), ‘round them a’ (1718b, 1720) [not ‘round them a’’] 478

Notes to Poems 1721 172. ‘fen’ (1718a, 1718b, 1720) [not ‘Fen’] 173. ‘Wyliecoat’ (1718a, 1718b, 1720) [not ‘Wylicoat’] 174. ‘End’ (1718a) [not ‘En’] 180. ‘tho’’ (1718a, 1718b) [not ‘tho’] 181. ‘e’re’ (1718a) [not ‘e’er’] 183. ‘a’ (1718a, 1718b, 1720) [not ‘a’’] 184. ‘next’ (1718a) [not ‘neist’] 186. ‘Banquetting and Drinking’ (1718a, 1718b) [not ‘Banqueting and Drinkin’’] 189. ‘e’ne’ (1718a), ‘E’n’ (1718b) [not ‘E’en’] Canto III Canto III does not appear in 1718a, which prints only Cantos I and II. ‘CANTO III. By Allan Ramsay.’ (1718b, 1720) [not ‘Canto III.’] 1. ‘o’ Fife the Dawn’ (1718b, 1720) [not ‘of Fife the Daw’n’] 2. ‘Speeld’ (1718b) [not ‘Speel’d’] 3. ‘crawn’ (1718b, 1720) [not ‘craw’n’] 4. ‘rift.’ (1718b, 1720) [not ‘rift:’] 5. ‘wi girning thrawn,’ (1718b, 1720) [not ‘wi’ girning Thrawn;’] 6. ‘Cryd Lasses’ (1718b) [not ‘Cry’d, Lasses’] 11. ‘Air up, had’ (1718b) [not ‘Air up had’] 14. ‘Fowk’ (1718b) [not ‘Fouk’] 16. ‘Sick’ (1718b) [not ‘Sic’] 18. ‘coud’ (1718b) [not ‘cou’d’] 19. ‘se’ (1718b) [not ‘see’] 20. ‘ding dang:’ (1718b) [not ‘ding dang’] 21. ‘wi’ (1718b) [not ‘wi’’]; all subsequent instances of ‘wi’ lack an apostrophe in 1718b, while it is retained in 1720 and the copy-text of 1721. 23. ‘Horn Spoons’ (1718b, 1720) [not ‘Horn-spoons’] 27. ‘Good-man’ (1718b) [not ‘Goodman’] 29. ‘to scalp yei’r Skin,’ (1718b) [not ‘to skelp ye’re Skin’] 30. ‘of Use’ (1718b) [not ‘of use;’] 34. ‘O Nanny,’ (1718b) [not ‘Oe Nanny,’] 36. ‘Moupin runckeld Granny,’ (1718b) [not ‘moupin runckled Granny,’] 37. ‘the Kimmers, an and a,’ (1718b) [not ‘the Kimmers ane and a’,’] 38. ‘Word gae’d, she was’ (1718b) [not ‘Word gae’d she was’] 44. ‘Corning.’ (1718b) [not ‘Corning?’] 45. ‘fand’ (1718b); ‘fund’ (1720) [not ‘fun’] 46. ‘Said let abe’ (1718b) [not ‘Said, Let a be’] 47. ‘Fegs, I’ve done’ (1718b) [not ‘Fegs I’ve done’] 49. ‘Cirsh’ (1718b, 1720) [not ‘Kirsh’] 53. ‘watna’ (1718b) [not ‘wat na’] 56. ‘Cocker-Nonny,’ (1718b) [not ‘Cockernonny’] 57. ‘begrutren’ (1718b) [not ‘begrutten’] 58. ‘thowles’ (1718b) [not ‘thowless’] 59. ‘Maggie’ (1718b, 1720) [not ‘Maggy’] 61. ‘Weird’ (1718b, 1720) [not ‘Weird,’] 67. ‘Legen-Girth’ (1718b, 1720) [not ‘Legen-girth’] 69. ‘Ise’ (1718b, 1720) [not ‘I’se’] 479

Poems 72. ‘ere’ (1718b) [not ‘e’er’] 73. ‘Cakes’ (1718b, 1720) [not ‘Caiks’] 77. ‘ann ye please’ (1718b, 1720) [not ‘an ye please’] 80. ‘Shall loup and’ (1718b) [not ‘Shall loup, and’] 81. ‘Doup i’the Day.’ (1718b) [not ‘Doup o’ the Day’] 82. ‘wer right true blew’ (1718b) [not ‘were right true blue’] 83. ‘e’ne’ (1718b) [not ‘e’en’] 86. ‘bou’ (1718b, 1720) [not ‘bow’] 87. ‘gae’ (1718b, 1720) [not ‘ga’e’] 95. ‘Shouder’ (1718b) [not ‘Shoulder’] 96. ‘Wi’er’ (1718b, 1720) [not ‘We’re’] 97. ‘Carles Tooth’ (1718b, 1720) [not ‘Carles, Tooth’] 99. ‘Gantries’ (1718b) [not ‘Gantrees’] 106. ‘Etcet’ra’ (1718b) [not ‘Et cet’ra’] 112. ‘boakin’ (1718b) [not ‘bockin’] 115. ‘deir’ (1718b) [not ‘dear’] 116. ‘a Girn,’ (1718b, 1720) [not ‘a Girn’] 118. ‘her Kirn,’ (1718b, 1720) [not ‘her Kirn;’] 121. ‘snool,’ (1718b) [not ‘Snool,’] 122. ‘Saul!’ (1718b, 1720) [not ‘Saul,’] 123. ‘o’re’ (1718b) [not ‘o’er’] 124. ‘Spaul,’ (1718b); ‘Spaul;’ (1720) [not ‘Spaul:’] 126. ‘for this ye’ (1718b, 1720) [not ‘for this, ye’] 131. ‘break o’ Day’as’ (1718b) [not ‘Break o’ Day’s’] 132. ‘Study’ (1718b) [not ‘Studdy’] 136. ‘a’ (1718b) [not ‘a’’] 138. ‘na’ (1718b) [not ‘nae’] 140. ‘Hempys’ (1718b) [not ‘Hempies’] 143. ‘Betweesh… straight’ (1718b) [not ‘Betwisht… straught’] 145. ‘a spang’d’ (1718b, 1720) [not ‘a’ span’d’] 146. ‘o’re’ (1718b) [not ‘o’er]; the same variation stands for both uses of the word in this line. 147. ‘unko’ (1718b) [not ‘unco’] 148. ‘Bikes’ (1718b) [not ‘Bykes’] 151. ‘Rierd’ (1718b, 1720) [not ‘Reird’] 152. ‘Tyks’ (1718b) [not ‘Tykes’] 153. ‘d’ye se, fou’ (1718b) [not ‘d’ye see fou’] 155. ‘her Man, like a Lamy’ (1718b) [not ‘her Man like a Lammy’] 159. ‘fletch’d’ (1718b, 1720) [not ‘fleech’d’] 162. ‘Peas’ (1718b) [not ‘Pease’] 164. ‘gae’ (1718b) [not ‘ga’e’] 167. ‘mislushis’ (1718b, 1720) [not ‘mislushios’] 168. ‘Brigg o’s Nees’ (1718b) [not ‘Brig o’s Neese’] 169. ‘ilky’ (1718b) [not ‘ilka’] 181. ‘off the Bonkers’ (1718b) [not ‘aff the Bunkers’] 183. ‘Nodles’ (1718b, 1720) [not ‘Noddles’] 184. ‘scul’d’ (1718b, 1720) [not ‘scull’d’] 185. ‘Good-Man’ (1718b) [not ‘Good-man’] 480

Notes to Poems 1721 187. ‘doun’ (1718b) [not ‘down’] 188. ‘O’er… clap’d’ (1718b); ‘clap’d’ (1720) [not ‘O’ ’er… clapt’] 189. ‘Prim’ (1718b) [not ‘Trim’] 191. ‘ilky’ (1718b) [not ‘ilka’] The Scriblers Lash’d Text: Poems (1721). No MS. First printed as The Scriblers Lash’d (Edinburgh, 1718); thereafter as The Scriblers Lash’d. By Allan Ramsay (Edinburgh, M.DCC.VIII) and The Scriblers Lash’d. By Allan Ramsay The Second Edition (Edinburgh, 1720). Because the first printing was anonymous and the 1720 edition was described as a second edition, Martin suspected the anonymous text was a piracy. As he states in his Bibliography, ‘I have considered… that Ramsay, not being certain of the reception that would be accorded for his poem, preferred to send it forth unclaimed… there is the possibility that the anonymous is an unauthorised edition… [However] the text of the anonymous edition is exceptionally good – praise that cannot usually be given to unauthorised editions’ (p.25). The STS editors state Ramsay published the anonymous poem ‘because he was uncertain about reactions to his satire’ (V, p.36). It is certainly the case that the four texts – notwithstanding the 1718 editions’ use of black letter for Apollo’s speech in ll.185-210, which is not followed in the 1720 edition or in Poems (1721) – are similar and largely correct, suggesting Ramsay’s hand in all four. Gibson had not seen the anonymous text, and comments only on the credited editions of 1718 and 1720; we concur with his view that the 1720 edition was printed by Ruddiman (p.129). Ramsay had, by 1720, printed Christ’s Kirk on the Green with Ruddiman; moreover, the texts of ‘The Scriblers Lash’d’ in the 1720 and 1721 editions are near-identical, and both dispense with previous editions’ use of black letter. The anonymous text is, therefore, concluded to be Ramsay’s, and is included in the collation below. In the list of variants, the anonymously published text of 1718 is ‘1718a’; the version credited to Ramsay which appeared in the same year is ‘1718b’. Epigraph: a quotation from the literary quarrel between poet and playwright Thomas D’Urfey (1653-1723) and Tom Brown (1663-1704). The poets are depicted in a mock-trial in ‘Sessions of the Poets, holden at the foot of Parnassus Hill, before Apollo, July the 9th, 1696’. 6. ‘treat’ (1718a, 1718b) [not ‘tret] 8. ‘Countroul’ (1718a, 1718b, 1720) [not ‘controul’] 11. ‘Parnassus’: Greek mountain regarded as sacred to Apollo and the Muses, and therefore a source of poetic inspiration. 14. ‘Who’ (1718a, 1718b, 1720) [not ‘Who,’] 16. ‘Rhime’ (1720) [not ‘Rhime’] 20. ‘The hated Authors of that Trash’ (1718a, 1718b, 1720) [not ‘That hated Authors of the Trash’] 23. ‘Against the Sex who’ (1718a, 1718b, 1720) [not ‘Against the Sex, who’] 25. ‘Eyes’ (1718a, 1718b) [not ‘Eye’] 26. ‘defies’ (1718a, 1718b) [not ‘defy’] 481

Poems 28. ‘ye’r’ (1718a, 1718b) [not ‘ye’re’] 29. ‘WIT’ (1720) [not ‘Wit’] 31. ‘Croud’ (1718a, 1718b) [not ‘Crowd’] 34. ‘Appolo’s’ (1718a, 1718b), ‘APOLLO’s’ (1720) [not ‘Apollo’s’] ‘Apollo’: classical god of, among other things, poetry, light, archery and music. 38. ‘Complaisant’ (1718a, 1718b) [not ‘complaisant’] 41. ‘Sense, or Merit’ (1718a, 1718b); ‘Sense or Merit’ (1720) [not ‘Sense and Merit’] ‘Zanny’: corruption of ‘zany’, a term for a buffoon in its original designation; in the eighteenth century it referred to a feeble or ludicrous imitator. In Dryden’s All for Love (1692), he refers to literary imitators thus: ‘They are for persecuting Horace and Virgil, in the persons of their Successors… Some of their little Zanies yet go farther; for they are Persecutors even of Horace himself.’ 45. ‘Head-Dress… Bone-fence’ (1718a, 1718b) [not ‘Head-dress… Bone-fence’] 46. ‘Nonsense:’ (1718a, 1718b, 1720) [not ‘Nonsense.’] 47. ‘Off-spring’ (1718a, 1718b) [not ‘Offspring’] ‘Sol’: the sun personified. 54. ‘scribble’ (1720) [not ‘scrible’] 56. ‘And Rhime, without’ (1718a, 1718b) [not ‘And rhime without’] 58. ‘Scrauls’ (1718a, 1718b, 1720) [not ‘Scrawls’] 62. ‘higher’ (1718a, 1718b, 1720) [not ‘high’r’] 69. ‘write;’ (1718a, 1718b, 1720) [not ‘write.’] 76. ‘On Hips, and Head-Dress, of the g——:’ (1718a, 1718b); ‘On Hips, and Head-dress of the g——!’ (1720) [not ‘On Hips and Head-dress of the g—y.’] 85. ‘Oh, hey!’ (1718a, 1718b) [not ‘Oh hey!’] 86. ‘fardingale’: ‘farthingale’, a framework of hoops, usually of whalebone, worked into cloth, formerly used for extending the skirts of women’s dresses; a hooped petticoat. 91. ‘nought’ (1718a, 1718b) [not ‘nothing’] 92. ‘O! horrid Sin!’ (1718a, 1718b) [not ‘O horrid Sin!’] ‘Patch’: a small piece of black material, typically silk or velvet, cut into a decorative shape and worn on the face in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, either for adornment or to conceal a blemish. 98. ‘Heliconian’: Helicon, a mountain sacred to the Muses. 107. ‘Task,’ (1718a, 1718b) [not ‘Task’] 112. ‘Ivroy’ (1718a, 1718b) [not ‘Ivory’] 113. ‘pur-blind’ (1718a, 1718b, 1720) [not ‘purblind’] 120. ‘Phœbus’’ (1718a, 1718b) [not ‘Phebus’’] ‘Phoebus’: Apollo as the god of the sun. 125. ‘Mag-pys’ (1718a, 1718b, 1720) [not ‘Mag-pyes’] 126. ‘You ! grumble at the Lady’s Choice !’ (1718a, 1718b, 1720) [not ‘You grumble at the Lady’s Choice?’] 137. ‘Caffar’: probably an early version of ‘Kaffir’, a now extremely offensive term which refers to a member of any of the Nguni peoples of south-eastern Africa; in the eighteenth century, the term also applied to Southern Africa more generally. Ramsay uses ‘Caffar’ in reference to a place, rather than its people; the region of the Eastern Cape province which the Nguni Xhosa 482

Notes to Poems 1721 inhabit was formerly sometimes referred to as ‘Kaffraria’. 138. ‘Hottentots’: similarly offensive and derogatory term which, in the eighteenth century, referred to a person of inferior intellect or culture; an uncivilised or ignorant person. 139. ‘Ballads’ (1720) [not ‘Ballads’] 141. ‘’larums’ (1718a, 1718b) [not ‘’larms’] 144. ‘hawker’: a seller of broadsides and chapbooks who would ‘sing and cry’ songs and news on the street. 146. ‘that, from this’ (1718a, 1718b); ‘that from this’ (1720) [not ‘That from This’] 148. ‘Scotland, a mean’ (1718a, 1718b) [not ‘Scotland a mean’] 151. ‘deserning’ (1718a, 1718b) [not ‘discerning’] 162. ‘pitty’ (1718a, 1718b) [not ‘Pity’] 164. ‘common Sense. For Crambo’ (1718a, 1718b, 1720) [not ‘common Sense, for Crambo’] ‘Crambo’: a contemptuous term for poetry or rhyming. 166. ‘encourag’d, and’ (1718a, 1718b, 1720) [not ‘encourag’d and’] 167. ‘allay’d’ (1718a, 1718b, 1720) [not ‘ally’d’] 170. ‘Clay-Cage’ (1720) [not ‘Clay Cage’] 185-210. In 1718a and 1718b, this section is printed in black letter. This format is not replicated in 1720 or Poems (1721). 190. ‘lov’d Nine’: the Muses who, according to classical mythology, provide poetic inspiration. 191. ‘strict’ (1718a, 1718b, 1720) [not ‘strick’] 193. ‘o’er grown’ (1718a, 1718b, 1720) [not ‘o’ergrown’] 199. ‘grudges’ (1718a, 1718b) [not ‘grudge’] 200. ‘Judges’ (1718a, 1718b) [not ‘Judge’] 208. ‘Jacks’ (1718a, 1718b) [not ‘Jakes’] ‘Pluto’: Roman god of the underworld and the dead. 209. ‘Dis’: Dīs Pater, Roman god of the underworld; can also refer to a part of the underworld, such as the City of Dis in Dante’s Divine Comedy, which comprises lower hell. 213. ‘Furies’: female deities of vengeance in Greek mythology. 215. ‘Rates’ (1718a, 1718b, 1720) [not ‘Rats’] 222. ‘And share of’ (1718a, 1718b) [not ‘Or share in’] ‘Homer’: ancient Greek epic poet; author of the Iliad and the Odyssey. Content. A Poem Text: Poems (1721). No MS. First printed as Content. A Poem. By Allan Ramsay (Edinburgh, 1719); followed by Content. A Poem. By Allan Ramsay. The Second Edition (Edinburgh, 1719); Content. A Poem. By Allan Ramsay. (London, M.DCC.XX.); and Content. A Poem. By Allan Ramsay. The Third Edition (Edinburgh, 1721). The STS editors state that the version printed in Edinburgh in 1721 ‘is confusingly described on its title-page as the third edition’ (VI, p.37), presumably because, despite being labelled the ‘third edition’, it was in fact the fourth to be issued. This 483

Poems discrepancy is explained by the fact that the London printing, published by Edmund Curll in 1720, is unlikely to have been authorised by Ramsay. Curll was known at this time for piracy and unscrupulous printing practices, and had a long-standing quarrel with Alexander Pope, whose works he published without the poet’s permission: Gibson agrees that Curll had the London edition ‘printed without the leave of Ramsay’ (New Light, p.125); the London edition has, therefore, been disregarded as having no connection with Ramsay. In the list of variants, the first edition is ‘1719a’; the second, printed in the same year, is 1719b. Epigraphs: the first is from John Dryden’s ‘The Wife of Bath, Her Tale’, ll.46670, printed in his Fables (1700). The second is from Matthew Prior’s ‘Prologue, Spoken at Court Before the Queen, on Her Majesty’s Birth Day’ (1704), l.44. Dryden’s text is not printed in 1719a, 1719b or 1721, and only appears in Poems; the line from Prior appears on the title page of all three editions. 3. ‘Greens’ (1719a) [not ‘Green’] 5. ‘Spray,’ (1719a) [not ‘Spray;’] 11. ‘SAGE’s’ (1719a, 1719b, 1721) [not ‘Sage’s’] ‘laughing Sage’: Democritus, pre-Socratic Greek philosopher generally depicted in art as laughing. 14. ‘Tenfold, for One which’ (1719a, 1719b); ‘Tenfold for One which’ (1721) [not ‘Tenfold for one, which’] 16. ‘CONTENT’ (1719a, 1719b, 1721 and in all instances of the word in previously printed editions) [not ‘content’] 22. ‘flie’ (1719a), ‘flee’ (1719b, 1721) [not ‘fly’] 24. ‘Bless’ (1719a), ‘Bilss’ (1719b) [not ‘Bliss’] 30. ‘Parent of Health, and’ (1719b) [not ‘Parent of Health and’] 32. ‘th’immortal’ (1719a, 1719b, 1721) [not ‘the immortal’] 33. ‘SELENUS thou’ (1719a), ‘SILENUS thou’ (1719b), ‘SILENUS, thou’ (1721) [not ‘Silenus, thou’] N.B. in the 1721 Poems copy-text, proper nouns are italicised; in previously printed versions, they are provided in italicised capitals. ‘Silenus’: associated in Greek mythology with Dionysius, god of wine, having been his tutor. 37. ‘Thus I addrest, — and’ (1719a) [not ‘Thus I address: —And’] 38. ‘First to no state’ (1719a, 1719b) [not ‘First, to no State’] 39. ‘may be happy if they please’ (1719a) [not ‘may be happy, if they please’] 41. ‘Midas’: member of the house of Phygria who, after offering hospitality to a drunken Silenus (see l.33), was granted his wish that whatever he touched would turn to gold. 42. ‘o’re’ (1719a) [not ‘o’er’] 46. ‘Theif’s’ (1719a) [not ‘Thief’s’] 49. ‘Farthing Light’ (1719a, 1719b, 1721) [not ‘Farthing-Light’] 53. ‘e’re’ (1719a) [not ‘e’er’] 54. ‘per Cent.’ (1719a, 1719b) [not ‘per Cent’] 55. ‘Tho’’ (1719a, 1719b) [not ‘Tho’] 56. ‘Nestor’: Nestor of Gerenia, wise king of Pylos depicted in Homer’s Odyssey. 57. ‘alace!’ (1719a, 1719b, 1721) [not ‘alas!’] 58. ‘Bless’ (1719a) [not ‘Bliss’] 484

Notes to Poems 1721 62. ‘he answer’d’ (1719a) [not ‘He answer’d’] 63. ‘MARCUS hath Wealth and’ (1719a) [not ‘Marcus hath Wealth, and’] 64. ‘Freinds’ (1719a) [not ‘Friends’] 66. ‘Sky’ (1719a, 1719b) [not ‘Skie’] 67. ‘Dy’ (1719a, 1719b) [not ‘Die’] 72. ‘ne’re imploys’ (1719a, 1719b), ‘ne’er imploys’ (1721) [not ‘ne’er employs’] 77. ‘fondl’d’ (1719a, 1719b, 1721) [not ‘fondling’] 79. ‘pitifull’ (1719b) [not ‘pitiful’] 80. ‘Virtue ever fly’ (1719a, 1719b), ‘Virtue, ever fly’ (1721) [not ‘Vertue, ever fly’] 85. ‘Heavens’ (1719a) [not ‘Heaven’s’] 105. ‘contrare’ (1719a, 1721) [not ‘contrair’] 111. ‘e’re… slumbring’ (1719a) [not ‘e’er… slumb’ring’] 123. ‘spenging,—’ (1719a, 1719b, 1721) [not ‘spending.—’] 154. ‘Pallas’: epithet for the Greek goddess Athena, associated with wisdom. 157. ‘Bellona’: Roman goddess of war, traditionally depicted wearing a military helmet. 159. ‘Vi et armis’ (1719a) [not ‘Vi & Armis’] ‘Vi & Armis’: translates from Latin as ‘by force and arms’. 160. ‘Nations’ (1719a, 1719b) [not ‘Nation’s’] 168. ‘empty’ (1719a, 1719b, 1721) [not ‘Empty’] 175. ‘Hesperia’: the Italian Peninsula in ancient Greek, and the Iberian Peninsula in ancient Rome. 176. ‘Product and’ (1719a) [not ‘Product, and’] ‘Persia’: eighteenth-century name for Iran. 182. ‘Cocheneal… Magelane’ (1719a) [not ‘Coacheneal… Magellan’] 188. ‘Mirrours’ (1719a, 1719b, 1721) [not ‘Mirrors’] 189. ‘poreing’ (1719a, 1719b) [not ‘poring’] 193. ‘missive’ (1719a, 1719b, 1721) [not ‘Missive’] ‘peremptor Bill’: court summons. 195. ‘Scepter’ (1719a, 1719b, 1721) [not ‘Sceptre’] 199. ‘star’d, and bit’ (1719a, 1719b) [not ‘star’d and bit’] 200. ‘learing… Plumb.’ (1719a, 1719b) [not ‘leering… Plum’] 208. ‘yellow-hair’d’ (1719a), ‘yellow hair’d’ (1719b, 1721) [not ‘Yellow-hair’d’] 210. ‘Elysium’: the state of the blessed after death in Greek mythology; also refers to a place or state of ideal happiness. 212. ‘rav’d;’ (1719a, 1719b) [not ‘rav’d.’] 214. ‘hastes’ (1719a, 1719b, 1721) [not ‘hasts’] 222. ‘Dorick’ (1719a, 1719b) [not ‘Dorick’] 226. ‘ingage’ (1719a, 1719b, 1721) [not ‘engage’] 227. ‘reverend’ (1719a, 1719b) [not ‘rev’rend’] 230. ‘Straight I reply’d’ (1719a, 1719b, 1721) [not ‘“Straight, I reply’d’] 232. ‘Not far from hence said he her Palace’ (1719a) [not ‘Not far from hence, said he, her Palace’] 237. ‘Socrates’: Greek philosopher, credited as a founder of Western philosophy and the first moral philosopher; ‘Epictetus’: Greek Stoic philosopher. 240. ‘show’d’ (1719a, 1719b) [not ‘shew’d’] 245. ‘Shape more monstrous’ (1719a) [not ‘Shape, most monstrous’] 248. ‘they’r’ (1719a, 1719b) [not ‘they’re’] 485

Poems 252. ‘exprest,’ (1719a), ‘exprest;’ (1719b), ‘exprest:’ (1721) [not ‘exprest.’] 253. ‘O! sacred Wisdom,’ (1719a, 1719b) [not O sacred Wisdom !’] 261. ‘Discontent;’ (1719a) [not ‘Discontent:’] 263. ‘wearied’ (1719a), ‘weari’d’ (1719b) [not ‘weary’d’] 264. ‘Hight’ (1719a, 1719b) [not ‘Height’] 274. ‘Fewel Logs’ (1719a, 1719b, 1721) [not ‘Fewel-Logs’] 276. ‘Hand-maid’ (1719a, 1719b, 1721) [not ‘Handmaid’] 282. ‘Tho’ brave as CESAR’ (1719a, 1719b), ‘Tho brave as CESAR’ (1721) [not ‘Tho brave as Cæsar’] ‘Caesar’: Julius Caesar, celebrated Roman statesman; ‘Helen’: of Troy, said to have been the most beautiful woman in the world and whose role in the Judgement of Paris resulted in the Trojan War. 284. ‘Touchstone’: Shakespeare’s Touchstone, Duke Frederick’s court jester in As You Like It. 286. This line is printed in black letter in all previous printed versions. 288. ‘Characters, and bid us read:’ (1719a), ‘Characters, and bid us read.’ (1719b, 1721) [not ‘Characters and bid us read.’] 290. ‘accord’ (1719a, 1719b, 1721) [not ‘Accord’] 301. ‘Looks’ (1719a, 1719b, 1721) [not ‘looks’] 304. ‘injoy’d’ (1719a) [not ‘enjoy’d’] 308. ‘cornucopia’: horn of plenty, usually overflowing with flowers, fruit and corn. 317. ‘Yes, if you’ (1719a), ‘Yes, if you’ (1719b, 1721) [not ‘Yes, if ye’] 318-19. These lines appear without inverted commas in 1719a, and without quotation marks and in italics in 1719b and 1721. In Poems (1721), they are presented with inverted commas at the beginning of both lines. 318. ‘e’re’ (1719a, 1719b, 1721) [not ‘e’er’] 319. ‘Power’ (1719a, 1719b, 1721) [not ‘Pow’r’] 327. ‘Fears,’ (1719a) [not ‘Fears;’] 332. ‘Imbrace’ (1719a, 1719b, 1721) [not ‘Embrace’] 333. ‘CESAR’s’ (1719a, 1719b, 1721) [not ‘Cæsar’s’] 340. ‘Liveries’ (1719a) [not ‘Liv’ries’] 345. ‘deceiv’d.’ (1719a) [not ‘deceiv’d:’] 348. ‘hast depart,’ (1719a), ‘hast depart.’ (1719b) [not ‘haste depart.’] 352. ‘herself thus, with a Smile’ (1719a, 1719b) [not ‘herself thus with a Smile’] 353. ‘while,’ (1719a, 1719b, 1721) [not ‘while;’] 360. ‘he’ (1719a) [not ‘He’] 365. ‘want’ (1719a, 1719b) [not ‘Want’] 371. ‘Ofsets’ (1719a) [not ‘Offsets’] 373. ‘th’ Utensils’ (1719a, 1719b, 1721) [not ‘the Utensils’] ‘Bohee’: ‘bohea’, regarding the Wu-I hills, from which black tea was first brought to England; the term refers in the eighteenth century to the highest quality teas. 382. ‘Cross?’ (1719a, 1719b, 1721) [not ‘Cross?’] 390. ‘briny’ (1719a, 1719b, 1721) [not ‘brinny’] 393. ‘Clay,’ (1719a, 1719b, 1721) [not ‘Clay;’] 399. ‘Ofspring’ (1719a, 1719b) [not ‘Offspring’] 401. ‘At handy-cuffs him match’d and threw him down;’ (1719a), ‘At 486

Notes to Poems 1721 Handy-cuffs him match’d and threw him down;’ (1719b) [not ‘At Handycuffs him match’d, and threw him down;’] 404. ‘Busbian’: a large bushy wig; a ‘bigwig’. 405. ‘Gamaliel’: Pharisee doctor of Jewish law (Acts 5:34; Acts 22:3), although here the name refers to one of Ramsay’s ‘Busbian Philosophs’. 409. ‘retir’d;’ (1719a), ‘retir’d,’ (1719b) [not ‘retir’d:’] 413. ‘Graduats’ (1719a) [not ‘Graduates’] 417. ‘teach dull Beaus to spell.’ (1719a, 1719b, 1721) [not ‘teach young Beaus to spell.’] ‘Sisyphian’: an endless, laborious and ineffective undertaking after Sisyphus who, according to Greek mythology, was punished by being forced to roll a large boulder up a hill, only for it to roll back down every time he approached the summit. 419. ‘oppress’d’ (1719a, 1719b, 1721) [not ‘opprest’] 424. ‘Numbers in Black of Widowers’ (1719a, 1719b), ‘Numbers in black of Widowers’ (1721) [not ‘Numbers in black, of Widowers’] 426. ‘abroad’ (1719a) [not ‘Abroad’] 436. ‘Chimera’: fire-breathing monster of Greek mythology, with a lion’s head, goat’s body and serpent’s tail, killed by Bellerophon; can also refer to a creature of the imagination, or wild fancy. 446. ‘Mind:’ (1719a, 1719b, 1721) [not ‘Mind;’] 448. ‘Phantoms’’ (1719a), ‘Phantom’s’ (1719b, 1721) [not ‘Phantoms’] 455. ‘m’inchanted’ (1719a, 1721), ‘m enchanted’ (1719b) [not ‘m’enchanted’] 467. ‘o’re’ (1719a) [not ‘o’er’] 469. ‘reply’d,’ (1719a, 1719b, 1721) [not ‘reply’d.’] 480. ‘Prime;’ (1719a) [not ‘Prime:’] 487. ‘Virtue you imploy’ (1719a, 1719b, 1721) [not ‘Vertue you employ’] 490. ‘afrai’d’ (1719a, 1721) [not ‘afraid’] 492. ‘griev’d’ (1719a, 1719b, 1721) [not ‘grieve’] 494. ‘Shaddow’ (1719a) [not ‘Shadow’] 495. ‘sought.’ (1719a, 1719b) [not ‘sought:’] 499. ‘alarm,’ (1719a, 1719b, 1721) [not ‘alarm.’] 504. ‘Sights’ (1719a, 1719b, 1721) [not ‘Sigh[t]s] 505. ‘carolling’ (1719a, 1719b, 1721) [not ‘carrolling’] 509-10. These lines, which form the beginning of the final stanza, are not printed in 1719b, in which the next line (l. 511, ‘Where all my special Friends…’) is joined with the stanza beginning ‘Soon as I saw…’. 512. ‘order’ (1719a, 1719b) [not ‘Order’] Richy and Sandy, A Pastoral On the Death of Joseph Addison, Esq. Text: Poems (1721). No MS. First printed as Richy and Sandy. A Pastoral on the Death of Mr. Joseph Addison. By Allan Ramsay (1719?), which features only Ramsay’s text in four pages. A second edition, also tentatively dated to 1719 and with the same title, is a twelve-page pamphlet which features ‘Richy and Sandy’, Josiah Burchet’s ‘Explanation’ and ‘To Mr. Allan Ramsay’, as well as Ramsay’s reply. These 487

Poems editions were followed by three more, probably unauthorised, printings in England: Eloisa to Abelard. Written by Mr. Pope. The Second Edition, which was published by Bernard Lintot in London in 1720 and features ‘Richy and Sandy’, Burchet’s ‘Explanation’ and ‘To Mr. Allan Ramsay’; Richy and Sandy; A Pastoral On the Death of the Right Honourable Joseph Addison, Esq. By Allan Ramsey, also printed by Lintot in London in 1720; and A Pastoral Elegy on the Death of Mr Joseph Addison: in a Dialogue Between Sir Richard Steel, and Mr Alexander Pope. By Mr Alan Ramsey, published by John Collyer in Nottingham, probably in 1720. There is consensus among Ramsay’s editors that he did not authorise any of the three English publications. According to Gibson (p.126) and Martin (p.27), these illegal printings of ‘Richy and Sandy’ led Ramsay to complain to Edinburgh’s Town Council regarding piracy of his works. However, as outlined in the present edition’s Introduction and notes for ‘To the Right Honourable, The Town-Council of Edinburgh, The Address of Allan Ramsay’, Ramsay’s complaint predated the English editions of ‘Richy and Sandy’ and addressed the poet’s concerns about multiple unauthorised printings of his works. In ‘The Address of Allan Ramsay’, Ramsay takes aim at Margaret ‘Lucky’ Reid, an Edinburgh printer who sold the first pirated edition of ‘Richy and Sandy’. Reid’s imprint has not been traced, although in ‘The Address of Allan Ramsay’, the poet takes specific issue with Lintot, the printer of the two London editions of 1720 on which the Nottingham edition by Collyer is also based. In his footnote to ‘The Address’, Ramsay states that ‘One of their uncorrect Copies was re-printed at London by Bernard Lintot in Folio first, before he printed it a second Time from a correct Copy of my own, with the honourable Mr. Burchet’s English Version of it.’ It is for these reasons that only the earliest two editions, probably printed in 1719, are included in the collation below, as the two texts likely to have been authorised by Ramsay; there is no such authorisation of Lintot’s and Collyer’s editions. In Poems (1721), Burchet’s explanation is printed in a running footnote to the main text, while the epistolary poems are printed separately. The STS editors state that both early editions are likely to belong to 1719 as Addison had died in that year. It is certainly possible that two printings – the first with only Ramsay’s poem, and the second with Burchet’s ‘Explanation’ – could have been released in the latter half of the year, after Addison’s death on 17 June. Although the English printings are concluded as being unauthorised, they demonstrate Ramsay’s growing fame south of the border at this relatively early stage in his career, and the fact that his work was – albeit without his permission – published at this time by two major London publishers: in this case, Bernard Lintot, and in the case of ‘Content’, Edmund Curll. In the list of variants, the edition featuring only ‘Richy and Sandy’ is ‘1719a’; the edition featuring the poem alongside Burchet’s ‘explanation’ and dedicatory poems is ‘1719b’. Title: ‘Richy’: Sir Richard Steele (1672-1729), Irish writer, playwright and politician, who co-founded The Spectator with the poem’s subject, Joseph Addison (1672-1719); ‘Sandy’: Alexander Pope (1688-1744), contemporary English poet. ‘Richy and Sandy’ casts Steele and Pope as Scottish shepherds and reports their conversation on hearing the news of the death of English essayist, 488

Notes to Poems 1721 playwright, poet and politician Addison, who had died on 17 June 1719. The ‘Explanation of Richy and Sandy’, which is printed in the style of a simultaneous English translation alongside Ramsay’s text in Poems (1721), is by Josiah Burchet. Burchet (1666?-1746), politician and Secretary of the Admiralty in England, is author of ‘To Mr Allan Ramsay on his Poetical Works’, the first of the group of poems in praise of Ramsay and his work printed in Poems (1721). Ramsay dedicated ‘Patie and Roger: A Pastoral’ to Burchet. 3. ‘Tune’ (1719a, 1719b) [not ‘Tune:’] ‘My Apron Deary’: a tune often associated with Ramsay, first printed in Thomson’s Orpheus Caledonius (1725) and Stuart’s Musick for Allan Ramsay’s Collection (1725-26?); Ramsay also uses the tune for his ‘SONG complaining of Absence’, published in TTM I. 11. ‘born!’ (1719a, 1719b) [not ‘born,’] 12. ‘Scorn’ (1719a, 1719b) [not ‘Scorn?’] 14. ‘EDIE that play’d and sang sae sweet is dead.’ (1719a, 1719b) [not ‘Edie, that play’d, and sang sae sweet, is dead.’] 15. ‘DEAD sayst thou, Oh!’ (1719a, 1719b) [not ‘Dead, say’st thou; Oh!’] ‘Pan’: god of flocks and herds in Greek mythology. 16. ‘Man,’ (1719a, 1719b) [not ‘Man!’] 20. ‘Or hound a Coly… Bent;’ (1719a, 1719b) [not ‘Or hounded Coly… Bent:’] 21. ‘ha’ (1719a, 1719b) [not ‘ha’’] 28. ‘And wimpling’ (1719a, 1719b) [not ‘Of wimpling’] ‘Latium’: the Italian region in which Rome was founded, capital of the Roman Empire. 29. ‘Mantua’: Italian island settlement, famous as the home of Virgil. 32. ‘Wi EDIE’ (1719a, 1719b) [not ‘W’ Edie’] 37. ‘last,’ (1719a, 1719b) [not ‘last:’] 40. ‘Lambmass’: ‘Lammas’, a festival held in August to mark the annual wheat harvest. 41. ‘O Richy’ (1719a, 1719b) [not ‘O, Richy’] 42. ‘Fouck’ (1719a, 1719b) [not ‘Fowck’] 54. ‘Tydes eb’ (1719a, 1719b) [not ‘Tides ebb’] 55. ‘He kend, What kend he no?’ (1719a, 1719b) [not ‘He kend, what kend he no?’] 56. ‘O’er-night’ (1719a, 1719b) [not ‘o’er Night’] 59. ‘Birk-tree’ (1719a, 1719b) [not ‘birk-tree’] 62. ‘To hear’ (1719a, 1719b) [not ‘to hear’] 66. ‘borrow’d-len’ (1719a, 1719b) [not ‘borrow’d Len’] 71. ‘beuk the Supper Scones’ (1719a, 1719b) [not ‘bewk the Supper-Scones’] 72. ‘Ky stand rowting on the Lones;’ (1719a, 1719b) [not ‘Kye stand rowting on the Loans:’] 73. ‘Come Richy let us’ (1719a, 1719b) [not ‘Come, Richy, let us’] To Mr. Allan Ramsay, on his Richy and Sandy Text: Poems (1721). The poem’s author is Josiah Burchett, naval administrator and politician (c.1666-1746) who was, by 1721, an established associate of Ramsay. His ‘To Mr. 489

Poems Allan Ramsay on his Poetical Works’ opens Ramsay’s edition of 1721, and with his ‘Explanation’ of ‘Richy and Sandy’, published alongside the poem in all printings following Ramsay’s first edition of 1719, he becomes a collaborator as well as correspondent. See also notes to ‘To Mr. Allan Ramsay on his Poetical Works’. 2. ‘Addy’: Joseph Addison, mourned in ‘Richy and Sandy’. 9. ‘Mantuan Bard’: Virgil. ll.13-24. Burchet alludes to Addison’s ‘The Campaign, A Poem, to His Grace the Duke of Marlborough’ (1705), which commemorates John Churchill, first Duke of Marlborough’s (1650-1722) pivotal role in the Battle of Marlborough. The battle, fought on 13 August 1704, was a significant moment in the War of the Spanish Succession, and ended in victory for the Grand Alliance. 25. ‘Milton’: John Milton (1608-74), author of Paradise Lost (1667). To Josiah Burchet, Esq. Text: Poems (1721). No MS. For the publication history of ‘To Josiah Burchet’, please see the note on ‘Richy and Sandy’. First printed in the second edition of ‘Richy and Sandy’, probably published in late 1719, which features Burchet’s ‘Explanation’, his ‘To Mr Allan Ramsay, on his Richy and Sandy’ and Ramsay’s ‘To Josiah Burchet’ alongside the main poem. 1. ‘Pierian Spring’: sacred to the Muses and a source of knowledge in Greek mythology located in present-day Macedonia; the subject of a celebrated couplet in Pope’s An Essay on Criticism (1711): ‘A little learning is a dang’rous thing;/Drink deep, or taste not the Pierian spring.’ 6. ‘rumages’ (1719) [not ‘rummages’] 10. ‘That frae the Best Esteem’ (1719) [not ‘That, frae the Best, Esteem’] 12. ‘Divide the World’ (1719) [not ‘Stock-job the Warld’] 15. ‘Routh’ (1719) [not ‘Rowth’] 16. ‘Elysian’: the ancient Greek conception of the afterlife which was separate from Hades and populated by the righteous dead. 24. ‘Stand yon’t, proud Czar’ (1719) [not ‘Stand yont proud Czar’] 25. ‘a’ (1719) [not ‘a’’] 30. ‘a’ (1719) [not ‘a’’] 32. ‘Heal’ (1719) [not ‘Heel’] 34. ‘Blood;’ (1719) [not ‘Blood,’] 35. ‘Nulli flebilior quam tibi Virgili’: from Horace’s Odes, Book I, Ode 24, a poem in mourning for Quintilian. The original reads ‘multis ille bonis flebilis occidit,/nulli flebilior quam tibi, Vergili’, and is translated as, ‘By many a good man wept, Quintilius dies;/By none more than you, my Virgil, trulier wept:’. Signature: ‘A. Ramsay’ (1719) [not ‘Al. Ramsay’]

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Notes to Poems 1721 Familiar Epistles Between Lieutenant William Hamilton and Allan Ramsay Text: Poems (1721). No MSS. First printed in a 24pp edition probably published in 1719. This was followed, according to Gibson, by another edition, the same but for one additional stanza, in 1719. A further edition, which Martin dates to the same year, includes another of Ramsay’s poems dedicated to Hamilton, entitled ‘An Epistle to W– H–, On The receiving the Compliment of a Barrel of Loch-fyne Herrings from him, 19th December 1719’, which is printed next in Poems (1721). Martin lists a fourth edition, which he dates to 1720. Gibson had seen the first two editions of 1719 (and lists them as separate editions in his bibliography), but not the third, which features Ramsay’s poem of thanks to Hamilton for his gift of herrings. Martin