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• Tho' I should wander Terra o'er,

. In all her climes,

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• Grant me but this, I ask no more,

'Ay rowth o' rhymes.

GIE dreeping roasts to countra lairds, • Till icicles hing frae their beards; Gie fine braw claes to fine Life-guards,

- And Maids of Honor;

And yill an' whisky gie to Cairds,

. Until they sconner.

'A TITLE, Dempster merits it;

• A Garter gie to Willie Pitt ;
Gie Wealth to some be-ledger'd Cit,

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· WHILE Ye are pleas'd to keep me hale, « 1'll fit down o'er my scanty meal,

Be't water-brose, or muslin-kail,

• Wi' chearfu' face,

• As lang's the Muses dinna fail

"To say the grace.'

An anxious e'e I never throws

Behint my lug or by my nose;
I jouk beneath Misfortune's blows

As weel's I may;

Sworn foe to Sorrow, Care, and Profe,

I rhyme away.

O YE douce folk, that live by rule, Grave, tideless-blooded, calm, and cool,

Compar'd wi' you- fool! fool! foot!

How much unlike!

Your

Your hearts are just a standing pool,

Your lives, a dyke!

NAE hair-brain'd, sentimental traces,

In your unletter'd, nameless faces !

In aricso trills and

graees

Ye never stray,

But gravissimo, folemn basses,

Ye hum away.

Ye are fae grave, nae doubt ye're wise ;
Nae ferly tho' ye do despise
The hairum-fcairum, ram-stam boys,

The rattling squad :
I I see ye upward cast your eyes

-Ye ken the road

WHILST I-but I shall haud me there

Wi' you I'll scarce gang ony where

Then, Then Jamie, I shall say rae mair,

But quat iny sang, Content with You to mak a pair,

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Tboughts, words, and deeds, the Statute blames with

reason ;

But surely Dreams were ne'er indicted Treason.

[On reading in the public Papers, the Laureate's Ode, with the

other parade of June 4. 1786, the Author was no sooner dropt asleep, than he imagined himself transported to the Birth-day Levee; and, in his dreaming fancy, made the following Address.

1.

GUID-MORNIN to your Majesty!

May heav'n augment your blißes,

On

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By many a lord an' lady;
God save the King ! 's a cuckoo sang

That's unco easy said ay:

The Poets, too, a venal gang,

Wi' rhymes wee'l turn'd and ready, Wad gar you trow ye ne'er do wrang, But ay unerring steady,

On fic a day.

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