But, if the lover's raptured hour Forbid it, every heavenly power, Tho', when some kind, connubial dear, The like has been, that you may wear And in your lug, most reverend James, Few men o' sense will doubt And when ye're number'd wi' the dead, Wi' justice they may mark your head- TO A LOUSE, On seeing one on a lady's bonnet at church. HA! whare ye gaun, ye crowlin" ferlie ?" Owre gauze and lace; Tho', faith, I fear ye dine but sparely 8 Ye ugly, creepin', blastit wonner, Gae somewhere else and seek your dinner, 10 Swith, in some beggar's haffet" squattle;" - An ox.-2 The country kitchen and parlor.-3 To bellow.-4 Black cattle. 5 Crawling. A term of contempt.-7 To walk sturdily.-8 A contemptuous appellation.-9 Feet.-10 Get away.-11 The side of the head.-12 To sprawl. Wi' ither kindred, jumpin' cattle, In shoals and nations; Whare horn nor bane ne'er dare unsettle Now haud ye there, ye 're out o' sight, The vera tapmost, towering height My sooth! right bauld ye set your nose out, Or fell, red smeddum,* I'd gie you sic a hearty dose o 't, Wad dress your droddum!" I wad na be surprised to spy Or aiblins' some bit duddies boy, But Miss's fine Lunardi! fie, How dare ye do 't? O Jenny, dinna toss your head, The blastie's makin'! O wad some power the giftie gie us It wad frae monie a blunder free us What airs in dress an' gait wad lea'e us, And e'en devotion ! 1 Trimmings.-2 Gooseberry.- Rosin.-4 Powder.- Breech.-6 An ancient head-dress.-7 Perhaps.- Ragged. A flannel vest.-10 Abroad.— 11 Those. ODE, SACRED TO THE MEMORY OF MRS. DWELLER in yon dungeon dark, STROPHE. View the wither'd beldam's faceCan thy keen inspection trace OF Aught of humanity's sweet melting grace? Pity's flood there never rose. See those hands, ne'er stretch'd to save, Keeper of Mammon's iron chest, Lo! there she goes-unpitied and unblest! ANTISTROPHE. Plunderer of armies, lift thine eyes, (Awhile forbear, ye torturing fiends,) Seest thou whose step unwilling hither bends? No fallen angel, hurl'd from upper skies; 'Tis thy trusty quondam mate, Doom'd to share thy fiery fate, She, tardy, hell-ward plies. EPODE. And are they of no more avail, Oh, bitter mockery of the pompous bier, MONODY ON A LADY FAMED FOR HER CAPRICE. How cold is that bosom which folly once fired! How pale is that cheek where the rouge lately glisten'd! How silent that tongue which the echoes oft tired! How dull is that ear which to flattery so listen'd! If sorrow and anguish their exit await, From friendship and dearest affection removed, How doubly severer, Eliza, thy fate Thou diedst unwept as thou livedst unloved! Loves, Graces, and Virtue, I call not on you; And flowers let us cull for Eliza's cold bier. We'll search thro' the garden for each silly flower, We'll roam thro' the forest for each idle weed; But chiefly the nettle, so typical, shower, For none e'er approach'd her but rued the rash deed. We'll sculpture the marble, we'll measure the lay: Here Vanity strums on her idiot lyre; There keen Indignation shall dart on her prey, Which spurning Contempt shall redeem from her ire. THE EPITAPH. Here lies, now a prey to insulting neglect, ELEGIES. ELEGY ON MISS BURNET, OF MONBODDO. LIFE ne'er exulted in so rich a prize, As Burnet, lovely, from her native skies; 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; Princes, whose cumbrous pride was all their worth, We saw thee shine in youth and beauty's pride, But like the sun eclipsed at morning tide, Thou left'st us darkling in a world of tears. The parent's heart that nestled fond in thee, |