TO JAMES SMITH. For me, I swear by sun an' moon, Just gaun to see you; And every ither pair that's done, Mair ta'en I'm wi' you. That auld capricious carlin, Nature, And in her freaks, on every feature She's wrote, "The Man." Just now I've ta'en the fit o' rhyme, Wi' hasty summon : Ha'e ye a leisure moment's time To hear what's comin' ? Some rhyme a neibor's name to lash; Some rhyme (vain thought!) for needfu' cash; An' raise a din; For me, an aim I never fash; I rhyme for fun. Far seen in Greek, deep men o' letters, Ha'e thought they had ensured their debtors, Now moths deform in shapeless tatters Their unknown pages." 1 Slant. 2 Care. 191 192 TO JAMES SMITH. Then fareweel hopes o' laurel-boughs, Henceforth I'll rove where busy ploughs An' teach the lanely heights an' howes My rustic sang. I'll wander on, with tentless1 heed I'll lay me with th' inglorious dead, Forgot and gone! But why o' death begin a tale? Just now we're living, sound and hale, Then top and maintop crowd the sail, Heave care owre side! When ance life's day draws near the gloamin', An' social noise; An' fareweel, dear deluding woman, O Life! how pleasant is thy morning, Like schoolboys, at th' expected warning, 1 Careless. 193 TO JAMES SMITH. We wander there, we wander here, Among the leaves; And though the puny wound appear, Short while it grieves. Some, lucky, find a flowery spot, But care or pain; And, haply, eye the barren hut With high disdain. With steady aim some Fortune chase; Keen hope does every sinew brace; Through fair, through foul, they urge the race, And seize the prey; Then cannie, in some cozie place, They close the day. And others, like your humble servan', They zig-zag on; 'Till curst with age, obscure and starvin', They aften groan. Alas! what bitter toil an' straining- Is Fortune's fickle Luna waning? E'en let her gang! Beneath what light she has remaining Let's sing our sang. My pen I here fling to the door, And kneel, "Ye Powers!" and warm implore, 66 In all her climes, Grant me but this, I ask no more, A rowth'o' rhymes. 'Gi'e dreeping roasts to countra lairds, And maids of honour; And yill an' whiskey gi'e to cairds," Until they sconner. Plenty. 2 Tinkers. 3 Loath . H 194 TO JAMES SMITH. "A title, Dempster merits it; Gi'e wealth to some be-ledgered cit, In cent. per cent.; But gi'e me real, sterling wit, And I'm content. "While ye are pleased to keep me hale, Wi' cheerful face, As lang's the Muses dinna fail To say the grace." An anxious e'e I never throws Sworn foe to sorrow, care, and prose, Oh, ye douce folk, that live by rule, Nae hare-brained, sentimental traces, Ye never stray, But, gravissimo, solemn basses Ye hum away. EPISTLE TO MR. M'ADAM, OF CRAIGENGILLAN, ON RECEIVING AN OBLIGING LETTER FROM MR. M'ADAM. I Vow. + Praised. SIR, o'er a gill I gat your card, I trow it made me proud; "See wha tak's notice o' the bard!". Now de'il-ma-care about their jaw, 'Twas noble, sir, 'twas like yoursel', Though by his banes wha in a tub5 On my ain legs, through dirt and dub, And when those legs to guid warm kail, A lee dike-side, a sybow tail,9 And barley-scone shall cheer me. 7 Heaven spare you lang to kiss the breath And bless your bonny lasses baith-- And God bless young Dunaskin's laird, And may he wear an auld man's beard, 2 Leaped. 6 Alexander the Great. Sandy is the Scotch abbreviation for Alexander. 3 Silly. 5 Diogenes. 8 7 Broth. A shady wall-side, 9 The young onion. 10 Heart-enticing creatures, |