And agonizing, curse the time and place Meet owre a pint, or in the Council-house; Men, three parts made by tailors and by barbers, Wha waste your wheel-hain'd gear on d-d new Brigs and Harbors! NEW BRIG. Now haud you there! for faith ye've said enough, And muckle mair than ye can make to through. As for your Priesthood, I shall say but little, Corbies and Clergy are a shot right kittle; But under favor o' your langer beard, Abuse o' magistrates might weel be spar'd; To liken them to your auld warld squad, I must needs say, comparisons are odd. In Ayr, wag-wits nae mair can hae a handle To mouth "a citizen," a term o' scandal: Nae mair the Council waddles down the street, In all the pomp of ignorant conceit: Mcn wha grew wise priggin owre hops an' raisins, If haply Knowledge, on a random tramp, And would to Common-sense, for once betray'd them What farther clishmaclaver might been said, What bloody wars, if sprites had blood to shed. No man can tell; but all before their sight, * Been there to hear this heavenly band engage, Or when they struck old Scotia's melting airs, While simple melody pour'd moving on the heart. The Genius of the Stream in front appears, A venerable chief advanc'd in years; Next came the loveliest pair in all the ring, And Summer, with his fervid-beaming eye; All-cheering Plenty, with her flowing horn, Led yellow Autumn, wreath'd with nodding corn; Then Winter's time-bleach'd locks did hoary show By Hospitality with cloudless brow. A well-known performer of Scottish music on the violin. Next follow'd Courage with his martial stride, A female form,* came from the tow'rs of Stair; The broken iron instruments of Death; At sight of whom our Sprites forgat their kindling wrath. THE VISION. DUAN FIRST. THE sun had clos'd the winter day, The thrasher's weary flingin-tree The lee-lang day had tired me; And when the day had clos'd his c'e, The poet here alludes to a Mrs. Stewart, who was then in possession of Stair. She afterwards removed to Afton-lodge, on the banks of the Afton, a stream which he subsequently celebrated in a song entitled "Afton Water." - ED. † Duan, a term of Ossian's for the different divisions of a digressive poem. See his Cath-Loda, vol. ii. of Macpherson's translation. Ben i' the spence, right pensivelie, There, lanely, by the ingle-cheek, An' heard the restless rattons squeak All in this mottie, misty clime, But stringin blethers up in rhyme, Had I to guid advice but harkit, My cash account: While here, half mad, half fed, half sarkit, Is a' th' amount. I started, mutt'ring, blockhead! coof! Or some rash aith, That I henceforth would be a rhyme-proof Til my last breath; — When, click the string the sneck did draw And, jee! the door gaed to the wa'; An' by my ingle-lowe I saw, Now bleezin bright, A tight, outlandish Hizzie, braw, Ye need nae doubt, I held my whisht; When sweet, like modest Worth, she blusht, Green, slender, leaf-clad holly-boughs By that same token; An' come to stop those reckless vows, A "hair-brain'd, sentimental trace," Shone full upon her; Her eye, ev'n turn'd on empty space, Down flow'd her robe, a Tartan sheen, And such a leg! my bonie Jean Sae straught, sae taper, tight and clean, Her mantle large, of greenish hue, My gazing wonder chiefly drew; Deep lights and shades, bold-mingling, threw A lustre grand; |