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Delighted doubly then, my Lord,
You'll wander on my banks,
And listen monie a grateful bird
Return you tuneful thanks.

The sober lav'rock' warbling wild,
Shall to the skies aspire;

The gowdspink," music's gayest child,
Shall sweetly join the choir:

The blackbird strong, the lintwhite clear,
The mavis mild and mellow;
The robin pensive autumn cheer,
In all her locks of yellow :

This, too, a covert shall ensure,
To shield them from the storm;
And coward maukiny sleep secure,
Low in her grassy form:

Here shall the shepherd make his seat,
To weave his crown of flow'rs;
Or find a shelt'ring, safe retreat,
From prone descending show'rs.

And here, by sweet, endearing stealth,
Shall meet the loving pair,

Despising worlds with all their wealth,
As empty, idle care.

The flow'rs shall vie in all their charme,
The hour of heav'n to grace,

And birks extend their fragrant arms,
To screen the dear embrace.

Here haply too, at vernal dawn,
Some musing Bard may stray,
And eye the smoking dewy lawn,
And misty mountain, grey;

Lark. & Thrush.

" Goldfinch.

w Linnet.

y The hare.

Birch trees.

Or, by the reaper's nightly beam,
Mild-chequ❜ring thro' the trees,
Rave to my darkly dashing stream,
Hoarse-swelling on the breeze.
Let lofty firs and ashes cool

My lowly banks o'erspread,
And view, deep-bending in the pool,
Their shadows' wat'ry bed:
Let fragrant birks, in woodbines drest,
My craggy cliffs adorn;
And for the little songster's nest,

The close embow'ring thorn.

So may old Scotia's darling hope,
Your little angel band,

Spring, like their fathers, up to prop
Their honour'd native land!
So may, thro' Albion's farthest ken,
To social-flowing glasses,

The grace be-Athole's honest men,
And Athole's bonnie lasses!'


Inscribed to J. Ballantyne, Esq. Ayr.

THE simple Bard, rough at the rustic plough,
Learning his tuneful trade from ev'ry bough;
The chanting linnet, or the mellow thrush, [bush;
Hailing the setting sun, sweet, in the green thorn
The soaring lark, the perching red-breast shrill,
Or deep-ton'd plovers, grey, wild whistling o'er
the hill;

Shall he, nurst in the peasant's lowly shed,,
To hardy Independence bravely bred,
By early Poverty to hardship steel'd,

And train'd to arms in stern Misfortune's field;
Shall he be guilty of their hireling crimes,
The servile, mercenary Swiss of rhymes?

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Or labour hard the panegyric close,

With all the venal soul of dedicating Prose?
No! though his artless strains he rudely sings,
And throws his hand uncouthly o'er the strings,
He glows with all the spirit of the Bard-
Fame, honest fame, his great, his dear reward!
Still, if some patron's gen'rous care he trace,
Skill'd, in the secret, to bestow with grace;
When Ballantyneb befriends his humble name,
And hands the rustic stranger up to fame,
With heart-felt throes his grateful bosom swells,
The god-like bliss, to give, alone excels.

'Twas when the stacks get on their winter-hap, And thack and raped secure the toil-won crap; Potatoe-bings are snugged up frae skaithe Of coming Winter's biting, frosty breath; The bees, rejoicing o'er their summer toils, Unnumber'd buds, an' flowers' delicious spoils, Seal'd up with frugal care in massive waxen piles. Are doom'd by man, that tyrant o'er the weak, The death o' devils-smoor'df wi' brimstone reek;8 The thundering guns are heard on ev'ry side, The wounded coveys, reeling, scatter wide; The feather'd field-mates, bound by Nature's tie, Sires, mothers, children, in one carnage lie: What warm poetic heart, but inly bleeds, And execrates man's savage, ruthless deeds!) Nae mair the flow'r in field or meadow springs; Nae mair the grove with airy concert rings, Except perhaps the robin's whistling glee, Proud of the height o' some bit half-lang tree. The hoary morns precede the sunny days, Mild, calm, serene, wide spreads the noon-tide blaze, While thick the gossamour waves wanton in the rays.

b John Ballantyne, Esq. Banker, Ayr, one of our Poet's earliest
c Covering.

d Thatch secured with ropes of straw, &c.
g Smoke.

• Damage.

f Smothered.


'Twas in that season, when a simple Bard,
Unknown and poor, simplicity's reward;
Ae night within the ancient burgh of Ayr,
By whim inspir'd, or haply press'd wi' care;
He left his bed, and took his wayward rout,
And down by Simpson's" wheel'd the left about:
(Whether impell'd by all-directing Fate,
To witness what I after shall narrate;
Or whether, rapt in meditation high,
He wander'd out, he knew not where nor why :)
The drowsy Dungeon-clock had numbered two,
And Wallace Tow'ri had sworn the fact was true:
The tide-swoln Firth, with sullen-sounding roar,
Through the still night dash'd hoarse along the
All else was hush'd as Nature's closed e'e; [shore:
The silent moon shone high o'er tow'r and tree:
The chilly frost, beneath the silver beam,
Crept, gently-crusting, o'er the glittering stream.

When, lo! on either hand the list'ning Bard,
The clanging sugh of whistling wings he heard;
Two dusky forms dart thro' the midnight air,
Swift as the Gos' drives on the wheeling hare;
Ane on th' Auld Brig his hairy shape uprears,
The ither flutters o'er the rising piers;
Our warlock Rhymer instantly descry'd
The Sprites that owre the Brigs of Aur preside.
(That bards are second-sighted is nae joke,
And ken the lingo o' the sp'ritual folk;
Fays, spunkies, kelpies, a', they can explain them,
And ev❜n the vera deils they brawly ken them.)
Auld Brig appear'd of ancient Pictish race,
The vera wrinkles Gothic in his face:
He seem'd as he wi' Time had warst!'d" lang,
Yet teughly doure," he badeP an unco bang.

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h A noted tavern at the Anld Brig end.

i Dungeon-clock and Wallace Tower, the two steeples. k The continued rushing noise of wind.

The gos-hawk, or falcon. m Wizard.

• Toughly durable.

n Wrestled. p Did bide, sustain, or endure. 9 Sustained the repeated sliocks of the floods and currents.

New Brig was buskit" in a braw new coat,
That he, at Lon'on, frae ane Adams, got;
In 's hand five taper staves as smooth 's a bead,
Wi' virls and whirlygigumst at the head.
The Goth was stalking round with anxious search
Spying the time-worn flaws in ev'ry arch;
It chanc'd his new-come neebor took his e'e,
And e'en a vex'd and angry heart had he!
Wi' thieveless" sneer to see his modish mien,
He, down the water, gies him this guid-e'en:w.


I doubt na', frien', ye'll think ye 're nae sheepshank,x

Ance ye were streekity o'er frae bank to bank!
But gin ye be a brig as auld as me,

Tho' faith that day, I doubt, ye 'll never see;
There'll be, if that date come, I'll wad a bodle,"
Some fewer whigmeleeries in your noddle.


Auld Vandal, ye but show your little mense,b Just much about it wi' your scanty sense; Will your poor, narrow foot-path of a street, Where twa wheel-barrows tremble when they meet, Your ruin'd, formless bulk o' stane an' lime, Compare wi' bonnie brigs o' modern time?

There 's men o' taste would take the Duckat


Tho' they should cast the very sarkd and ..., Ere they would grate their feelings wi' the view Of sic an ugly Gothic hulk as you.

r Dressed.

s A ring which surrounds a column, &c.
t Useless ornaments.

u Cold, dry-spoken of a person's demeanour.

w Salutation, or good evening.

y Stretched.

a Whims, fancies.

No can personage 2 Bet a bodle; i. e. A small coin. Good-breeding.

e A noted ford just above Avid Brig.

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