Come, Firm Resolve, take thou the van, And let us mind, faint heart ne'er wan Wha does the utmost that he can, Will whyles do mair. But to conclude my silly rhyme, To weans and wife, That's the true pathos and sublime Of human life. My compliments to sister Beckie; As e'er tread clay! And gratefully, my guid auld cockie, I'm yours for ay. ROBERT BURNS. PROLOGUE, SPOKEN AT THE THEATRE, ELLISLAND, ON NEW-YEARDAY EVENING: No song nor dance I bring from yon great city I come to wish you all a good new year! But 'twould be rude, you know, to ask the question; Ye sprightly youths, quite flush with hope and spirit, Who think to storm the world by dint of merit, In his sly, dry, sententious, proverb way! He bids you mind, amid your thoughtless rattle, That tho' some by the skirt may try to snatch him; Last, tho' not least in love, ye youthful fair, Angelic forms, high Heaven's peculiar care! To you old Bald-pate smooths his wrinkled brow, For our sincere, though haply weak endeavours, With grateful pride we own your many favours; And howsoe'er our tongues may ill reveal it, Believe our glowing bosoms truly feed it. ELEGY ON THE LATE MISS BURNET, OF MONBODDO. LIFE ne'er exulted in so rich a prize, Thy form and mind, sweet maid, can I forget? In thee, high Heaven above was truest shown, In vain ye flaunt in summer's pride, ye groves; Ye heathy wastes, immix'd with reedy fens ; Ye rugged cliffs, o'erhanging dreary glens, Princes whose cumb'rous pride was all their worth, We saw thee shine in youth and beauty's pride, And virtue's light, that beams beyond the But like the sun eclips'd at morning tide, [spheres; Thou left'st us darkling in a world of tears. The parent's heart that nestled fond in thee, IMITATION OF AN OLD JACOBITE By yon castle wa' at the close of the day, The church is in ruins, the state is in jars, My seven braw sons for Jamie drew sword, yerd: It brak the sweet heart o' my faithfu' auld dame- Now life is a burden that bows me down, SONG OF DEATH. Scene-a field of battle; time of the day-evening; the wound. ed and dying of the victorious army are supposed to join in the following Song. FAREWELL, thou fair day, thou green earth, and ye skies, Now gay with the bright setting sun; Farewell, loves and friendship, ye dear, tender ties, Our race of existence is run! Thou grim king of terrors, thou life's gloomy foe, Go, frighten the coward and slave; Go, teach them to tremble, fell tyrant! but know, No terrors hast thou to the brave! Thou strik'st the dull peasant-he sinks in the dark, Nor saves e'en the wreck of a name : Thou strik'st the young hero-a glorious mark ! He falls in the blaze of his fame! In the field of proud honour-our swords in our hands, Our King and our country to save While victory shines on life's last ebbing sands, |