152 ON THE DEATH OF ROBERT DUNDAS, ESQ. ON THE DEATH OF ROBERT DUNDAS, ESQ. OF ARNISTON, LATE LORD PRESIDENT OF THE COURT of session. LONE on the bleaky hills the straying flocks Ye hills, ye plains, ye forests, and ye caves, Where to the whistling blast and water's roar, O heavy loss, thy country ill could bear! Wrongs, injuries, from many a darksome den, Mark ruffian Violence, distain'd with crimes, Ye dark waste hills, and brown unsightly plains, Rumble John, Rumble John, Mount the steps with a groan, Cry the book is with heresy cramm'd; Then lug out your ladle, Deal brimstone like aidle, And roar every note o' the damn'd, Rumble John, And roar every note o' the damn'd. Simper James, Simper James, Leave the fair Killie dames, There's a holier chase in your view; I'll lay on your head, That the pack ye'll soon lead, For puppies like you there's but few, Simper James, For puppies like you there's but few. Singet Sawnie, Singet Sawnie, Are ye herding the penny, Unconscious what danger awaits? With a jump, yell, and howl, Alarm every soul, For Hannibal's just at your gates, Singet Sawnie, For Hannibal's just at your gates. Andrew Gowk, Andrew Gowk, Ye may slander the book, And the book nought the waur-let me tell you; Tho' ye're rich and look big, Yet lay by hat and wig, And ye'll hae a calf's-head o' sma' value, Andrew Gowk, And ye'll hae a calf's-head o' sma' value. Poet Willie, Poet Willie, Wi' your 'liberty's chain' and your wit: Ye ne'er laid a stride, Bar Steenie, Bar Steenie, What mean ye? what mean ye? If ye'll meddle nae mair wi' the matter, Davie Bluster, Davie Bluster, It's a sign they're no nice o' recruits, Muirland George, Muirland George, Cessnockside, Cessnockside, Wi' your turkey-cock pride, O' manhood but sma' is your share! Ye've the figure, it's true, Even our foes maun allow, And your friends daurna say ye hae mair, Cessnockside, And your friends daurna say ye hae mair. Daddie Auld, Daddie Auld, There's a tod i' the fauld, A tod meikle waur than the clerk; Tho' ye downa do skaith, Ye'll be in at the death, And if ye canna bite ye can bark, Daddie Auld, And if ye canna bite ye can bark. ON MISS JESSY LEWARS. TALK not to me of savages But Jessy's lovely hand in mine, EPITAPH ON MISS JESSY LEWARS. SAY, Sages, what's the charm on earth Can turn Death's dart aside? It is not purity and worth, Else Jessy had not died. THE RECOVERY OF JESSY LEWARS. BUT rarely seen since Nature's birth, Yet still one Seraph's left on earth, THE TOAST. FILL me with the rosy wine, THE KIRK OF LAMINGTON. As cauld a wind as ever blew, WRITTEN ON A BLANK LEAF OF ONE OF MISS HANNAH MORE'S WORKS, WHICH SHE HAD GIVEN HIM. THOU flattering mark of friendship kind, The dear, the beauteous donor: She show'd her tastes refined and just When she selected thee, But kind still, I'll mind still A Friend above the Lift. |