Fortune! if thou'll but gie me still Hale breeks, a scone, an' Whisky gill, An' rowth o' rhyme to rave at will, Tak' a' the rest, An' deal't about as thy blind skill Directs thee best. THE THE AUTHOR'S EARNEST CRY AND PRAYER* TO THE SCOTCH REPRESENTATIVES. IN THE HOUSE OF COMMONS. Dearest of Distillation! last and best!· How art thou lost! PARODY ON MILTON. YE Irish Lords, ye Knights an' Squires, An' doucely manage our affairs In parliament, To you a simple Poet's prayers Are humbly sent. Alas! *This was written before the act anent the Scotch Dis tilleries, of session 1786; for which Scotland and the Author return their most grateful thanks. Alas! my roupet Muse is hearse! Your Honor's heart wi' grief 'twad pierce, To see her sittin on her a Low i' the dust, An' scriechin out prosaic verse, An' like to brust! Tell them wha hae the chief direction, An' rouse them up to strong conviction, Stand forth, an' tell yon Premier Youth, The honest, open, naked truth: Tell him o' mine an' Scotland's drouth, His servants humble: The muckle devil blaw ye south, If ye dissemble! Does ony great man glunch an' gloom? Speak out, an' never fash your thumb! Let posts an' pensions sink or soom Wi' them wha grant 'em: If honestly they canna come, Far better want 'em. In gath'rin votes you were na slack; But raise your arm, an' tell your crack Paint Scotland greeting owre her thrissle, Her mutchkin stoup as toom's a whissle; An' d-mn'd Excisemen in a bussle, Seizin a Stell, Triumphant crushin't like a mussel Then on the tither hand present her, Colleaguing join, Picking her pouch as bare as winter Is there, that bears the name o' Scot, But feels his heart's bluid rising hot, To see his poor auld Mither's pot Thus dung in staves, An' plunder'd o' her hindmost groat By gallows knaves? Alas! Alas! I'm but a nameless wight, Or gab like Boswell, There's some sark-necks I wad draw tight, God bless your Honors, can ye see't, An' gar them hear it, An' tell them wi' a patriot heat, Ye winna bear it? Some o' you nicely ken the laws, To mak harangues; Then echo thro' Saint Stephen's wa's Auld Scotland's wrangs. .* Dempster, a true blue Scot I'se warran; Thee, aith-detesting, chaste Kilkerran ;* An' that glib-gabbet Highland Baron, The Laird o' Graham;† : An' ane, a chap that's d-mn'd auldfarran, Dundas his name. *Sir Adam Ferguson. E. + The present Duke of Montrose. E. Erskine, |