An monie a scheme in vain's been laid,
To stap or scaur me;

Till ane Hornbook 's" taen up the trade,
An' faith, he 'll wauro me.

'Ye ken Jock Hornbook i' the clachan, P
Deil mak his king's-hood in a spleuchan!
He's grown sae weel acquaint wi' Buchan
An' ither chaps,

The weanst haud out their fingers laughin',
An' pouk my hips.

See here's a scythe, and there's a dart,
They hae pierc'd monie a gallant heart;
But Doctor Hornbook, wi' his art

And cursed skill,

Has made them baith no worth a f―t,
Damn'd haet" they'll kill!

W

'Twas but yestreen, nae farther gane,
I threw a noble throw at ane;

Wi' less I'm sure I've hundreds slain;
But Deil-ma-care,

It just play'd dirly on the bane,
But did nae mair.

'Hornbook was by, wi' ready art,
And had sae fortify'd the part,
That when I looked to my dart,
It was sae blunt,

Fient haetz o't wad hae pierc'd the heart
Of a kail-runt.a

m Stop or scare.

n This gentleman, Dr. Hornbook, is professionally a brother of the sovereign Order of the Ferula; but, by intuition and inspiration, is at once an apothecary, surgeon, and physician. p Hamlet, or village. r A tobacco pouch. t Children.

o Worst, or defeat.

9 A part of the entrails.

Buchan's Domestic Medicine.

u An oath of negation; i. e. in Dr. Hornbook's opinion he has rendered my weapons harmless-they'll kill nobody.

w Yesternight.

No matter! ≈ An oath of negation.

y A slight tremulons stroke.

The stem of Colewort.

I drew my scythe in sic a fury,
I near hand cowpitb wi' my hurry,
But yet the bauld apothecary

Withstood the shock;
I might as well hae tried a quarry
O' hard whine rock.

'Ev'n them he canna get attended,d
Altho' their face he ne'er had kenn'd it,
in a kail-blade and send it,

Just

As soon's he smells 't,
Baith their disease, and what will mend it,
At once he tells 't.

'And then a' doctor's saws an' whittles,
Of a' dimensions, shapes, an' mettles,
A' kinds o' boxes, mugs, an' bottles,
He's sure to hae;

Their Latin names as fast he rattles
As A B C

'Calces o' fossils, earth, and trees;
True sal-marinum o' the seas;
The farina of beans and pease,

He has 't in plenty;

Aqua-fontis, what you please,

He can content ye.

Forbyef some new uncommon weapons,
Urinus spiritus of capons:

Or mite-horn shavings, filings, scrapings,
Distill'd per se;

Sal-alkali o' midge-tail clippings,

And monie mae.'s

b Tumbled.

e The hard stone found in the Scottish hills-granite. d Those patients who cannot attend upon the doctor, or cannot be seen by him, must send their water in a phial, from the sight of which he pretends to know and cure their various diseases.

e Knives.

ƒ Besides.

g More.

'Waes me for Johnny Ged's Holeh now,
Quo' I, if that the news be true!
His braw calf-ward, whare gowansk grew
Sae white and bonnie,

Nae doubt they'll rive it wi' the pleugh;
They 'll ruin Johnny!'

The creature grain'd an eldritch laugh,
And says, 'Ye need na yoke the pleugh,
Kirk-yards will soon be till'd eneugh.
Tak ye nae fear:

They'll a' be trench'd wi' monie a sheugh,
In twa-three year.

'Whare I kill'd ane a fair strae death,
By loss o' blood or want o'breath,
This night I'm free to tak my aith,
That Hornbook's skill

Has clad a score i' their last claith,
By drap an' pill.

'An honest wabsterP to his trade,

Whase wife's twa nieves were scarce weel bred, Gat tippence-worth to mend her head,

When it was sair;

The wife slade cannier to her bed,
But ne'er spak mair.

'A countra laird had taen the batts,
Or some curmurring in his guts,

His only son for Hornbook sets,
An' pays him well,

The lad, for twa guid gimmer pets,"
Was laird himsel.

h A name given to the grave-digger.

i An enclosure for calves; the term is here used in allusion to the church yard. k Daisies. 1 Groaned a frightful laugh. m Ditch, or trench; i. e. will be filled with graves. To die in bed, in a natural way. o Shroud. p A weaver. Fists. r Slide gently, or dexterously s Botts. Murmuring, a slight rumbling noise.

u Ewe lambs.

A bonnie lass, ye kenn'd her name,
Some ill-brewn drink had hov'd her wame,"
She trusts hersei, to hide the shame,
In Hornbook's care;

Horn sent her aff to her lang hame,
To hide it there,

That's just a swatch o' Hornbook's way;
Thus goes he on from day to day,
Thus does he poison, kill, an' slay,
An's weel paid for 't;

Yet stops me o' my lawfu' prey,
Wi' his d-mn'd dirt :

'But, hark! I'll tell you of a plot,
Tho' dinna ye be speaking o't;
I'll nail the self-conceited sot,

As dead's a herrin';

Niest time we meet, I'll wad a groat,
He gets his fairin'!'

But just as he began to tell,

The auld kirk-hammer strak the bell
Some wee short hour ayont the twal,
Which rais'd us baith:

I took the way that pleas'd mysel,
And sae did Death.b

w Swelled her belly.

A sample.

y By sending his patients to the church-yard.
a The hour of one.

z Next.

b So irresistible was the tide of ridicule, on the publication of this poem, that John Wilson, alias Dr. Hornbook, was not only compelled to shut up shop as an apothecary, or druggist rather, but to abandon his school also, as his pupils one by one deserted

him.

THE COTTER'S SATURDAY NIGHT.

INSCRIBED TO R. AIKEN, ESQ.

Let not ambition mock their useful toil,
Their homely joys and destiny obscure;
Nor grandeur hear, with a disdainful smile,

The short and simple annals of the poor.-Gray.

My lov'd, my honour'd, much respected friend!
No mercenary bard his homage pays;
With honest pride 1 scorn each selfish end,
My dearest meed, a friend's esteem and praise;
To you I sing in simple Scottish lays,

The lowly train in life's sequester'd scene; The native feelings strong, the guileless ways;

What Aiken in a cottage would have been ; Ah! tho' his worth unknown, far happier there, I

ween.

November chill blaws loud wi' angry sugh ;e The short'ning winter-day is near a close; The miry beasts retreating frae the pleugh; The black'ning trains o' craws to their repose; The toil-worn Cotter frae his labour goes,

This night his weekly moil is at an end, Collects his spades, his mattocks, and his hoes, Hoping the morn in ease and rest to spend, And weary, o'er the moor, his course does hameward bend.

At length his lonely cot appears in view,
Beneath the shelter of an aged tree;

Th' expectant wee-things,d todlin,e stacher thro'
To meet their dad wi' flichtering noise and glee.

The continued rushing noise of a strong wind.

d Little children.

e Tottering. f Stagger, g Fluttering.