I own 'twas rash, an' rather hardy,
That I, a simple countra bardie,
Shou'd meddle wi' a pack sae sturdy,

Wha, if they ken me,

Can easy, wi' a single wordie,

Louse h-ll upon me.

But I gae mad at their grimaces,
Their sighan, cantan, grace-prood faces,
Their three-mile prayers, an' hauf-mile graces,
Their raxan conscience,

Whaws greed, revenge, an' pride disgraces
Waur nor their nonsense.

There's Gaun,* miska't waur than a beast,
Wha has mair honor in his breast

Than mony scores as guid 's the priest

Wha sae abus't him.

An' may a bard no crack his jest

What way they've use❜t him.

See him,† the poor man's friend in need,
The gentleman in word an' deed,

An' shall his fame an' honor bleed

By worthless skellums,

An' not a muse erect her head

To cowe the blellums?

O Pope, had I thy satire's darts
To gie the rascals their deserts,
I'd rip their rotten, hollow hearts,
An' tell aloud

Their jugglin' hocus pocus arts

To cheat the crowd.

* Gavin Hamilton, Esq.

†The poet has introduced the two first lines of this stanza into the dedication of his works to Mr. Hamilton.

God knows, I'm no the thing I shou'd be,
Nor am I even the thing I cou'd be,
But twenty times, I rather wou'd be

An atheist clean,

Than under gospel colors hid be

Just for a screen.

An honest man may like a glass,
An honest man may like a glass,
But mean revenge, an' malice fause

He 'll still disdain,

An' then cry zeal for gospel laws,

Like some we ken.

They take religion in their mouth;
They talk o' mercy, grace an' truth,
For what? to gie their malice skouth

On some puir wight,
An' hunt him down, o'er right an' ruth,
To run streight.

All hail, religion! maid divine!
Pardon a muse sae mean as mine,
Who in her rough imperfect line

Thus daurs to name thee;

To stigmatize false friends of thine

Can ne'er defame thee.

Tho' blotch't an' foul wi' mony a stain,
An' far unworthy of thy train,

With trembling voice I tune my strain

To join with those,

Who boldly dare thy cause maintain

In spite of foes:

In spite o' crowds, in spite o' mobs,
In spite of undermining jobs,
In spite o' dark banditti stabs

At worth an' merit,

By scoundrels, even wi' holy robes,

But hellish spirit.

Z

Ayr, my dear, my native ground,
Within thy presbytereal bound
A candid lib'ral band is found

Of public teachers,

As men, as christians too renown'd

An' manly preachers.

Sir, in that circle you are nam'd;
Sir, in that circle you are fam'd;

An' some, by whom your doctrine 's blam'd,

(Which gies you honor)

Even Sir, by them your heart's esteem'd,

An' winning manner.

Pardon this freedom I have ta'en,
An' if impertinent I've been,
Impute it not, good Sir, in ane

Whase heart ne'er wrang'd ye

But to his utmost would befriend

Ought that belang'd ye.

TO GAVIN HAMILTON, Esq. Mauchline.

(Recommending a Boy.)

Mosgaville, May 3, 1786.

I HOLD it, Sir, my bounden duty
To warn you how that Master Tootie,
Alias, Laird M.Gaun,*

Was here to hire yon lad away

'Bout whom ye spak the tither day,

An' wad hae don't aff han':

* Muster Tootie then lived in Mauchline; a dealer in Cows. It was his common practice to cut the nicks or markings from the horns of cattle, to disguise their age.-He was an artful,

But lest he learn the callan tricks,

As faith I muckle doubt him,

Like scrapin' out auld Crummie's nicks,
An' tellin' lies about them;

As lieve then 1'd have then,
Your clerkship he should sair,
If sae be, ye may be

Not fitted otherwhere.

Altho' I say 't, he 's gleg enough,
An' bout a house that's rude an' rough,
The boy might learn to swear;
But then wi* you, he 'll be sae taught,
An' get sic fair example straught,

I hae na ony fear.
Ye 'll catechise him every quirk,
An' shore him weel wi' hell;
him follow to the kirk
-Ay when ye gang yoursel.
If ye then, maun be then

An'

gar

Frae hame this comin Friday,
Then please sir, to lea'e sir,
The orders wi' your lady.

My word of honor I hae gien,

In Paisley John's, that night at e'en,

To meet the Warld's worm ;

To try to get the twa to gree,
An' name the airles* an' the fee,

In legal mode an' form:

I ken he weel a Snick can draw,
When simple bodies let him;

An' if a Devil be at a',

In faith he 's sure to get him.

trick-contriving character; hence he is called a Snick-drawer. In the Poet's "Address to the Deil," he styles that august personage an auld, snick-drawing dog!

*The Airles-Earnest money,

E.

To phrase you an' praise you,
Ye ken your Laureat scorns:
The pray'r still, you share still,
Of grateful MINSTREL BURNS.

To Mr. MADAM,, of Craigen-Gillan,

In answer to an obliging letter he sent in the commencement of my poetic career.

SIR, o'er a gill I gat your card,
I trow it made me proud;
See wha taks notice o' the bard!
I lap and cry'd fu' loud.

Now deil-ma-care about their jaw,
The senseless, gawky million;
I'll cock my nose aboon them a',
I'm roos'd by Craigen-Gillan!

'Twas noble, Sir; 'twas like yoursel,
To grant your high protection:
A great man's smile ye ken fu' well,
Is ay a blest infection.

Tho', by his banes wha in a tub
Match'd Macedonian Sandy!
On my ain legs thro' dirt and dub,
I independent stand ay.-

And when those legs to gude, warm kail,

Wi' welcome canna bear me;

A lee dyke-side, a sybow-tail,
A barley-scone shall cheer me.

* Diogenes.