sing the loves, the joys, the rural scenes and rural pleasures of my native Soil, in my native tongue: I tuned my wild, artless notes, as she inspired.----She whispered me to come to this ancient metropolis of Caledonia, and lay my Songs under your bonoured protection: I now obey her dictates. Though much indebted to your goodness, I do not approach you my Lords and Gentlemen, in the usual stile of dedication, to thank you for past favours; that path is so backneyed by prostituted Learning, that honest Rusticity is ashamed of it.---Nor do I present this Address with the venal soul of a servile Author, looking for a continuation of those favours: Iwas bred to the Plough, and am independent. I come to claim the common Scottish name with you, my illustrious lustrious Countrymen; and to tell the world that I glory in the title.---I come to congratulate my Country, that the blood of her ancient heroes still runs uncontaminated; and that from your courage, knowledge, and public spirit, she may expect protection, wealth and liberty.--- In the last place, I come to proffer my warmest wishes to the Great Fountain of Honour, the Monarch of the Universe, for your welfare and happi ness. When you go forth to waken the Echoes, in the ancient and favourite amusement of your Forefathers, may Pleasure ever be of your party; and may Social-joy await your return! When harassed in courts or camps with the justlings of bad men and bad measures, may the honest consciousness of injured Worth Worth attend your return to your native Seats; and may Domestic Happiness, with a smiling welcome, meet you at your gates! May Corruption shrink at your kindling indignant glance ; and may tyranny in the Ruler and licentiousness in the People equally find you an inexorable foe ! I have the honour to be, With the sincerest gratitude and highest respect, MY LORDS AND GENTLEMEN, Your most devoted humble servant, EDINBURGH, ROBERT BURNS. POEMS, POEMS, CHIEFLY SCOTTISH. THE TWA DOGS. A TALE. 'TWAS in that place o' Scotland's ifle, That bears the name o' Auld King Coil, Upon a bonie day in June, When wearing thro' the afternoon, Twa dogs that were na thrang at hame, Forgather'd ance upon a time. VOL, I, B THE THE first I'll name, they ca'd him Cæsar, Was keepit for his Honor's pleasure: But he wad stan't, as glad to fee him, And ftroan't on stanes an' hillocks wi' him. THE tither was a ploughman's collie, A rhyming, |