LINES SENT TO SIR JOHN WHITEFOORD, OF WHITEFOORD, BART. WITH THE FOREGOING POEM. THOU, who thy honour as thy God rever'st, Who, save thy mind's reproach, nought earthly fear'st, To thee this votive offering I impart, The tearful tribute of a broken heart. The friend thou valued'st, I, the patron, loy'd; His worth, his honour, all the world approv'd. We'll mourn 'till we too go as he has gone, And tread the dreary path to that dark world unknown. TAM TAM O'SHANTER, A TALE. Of Brownyis and of Bogilis full is this Buke. GAWIN DOUGLAS. WHEN chapman billies leave the street, And drouthy neebors, neebors meet, VOL III. U That That lie between us and our hame, This truth fand honest Tam o' Shanter, O Tam! hadst thou but been sae wise, Ae market-day thou was nae sober; Thou would be found deep drown'd in Doon; By Alloway's auld haunted kirk. Ah, gentle dames! it gars me greet, To think how mony counsels sweet, How How mo ny lengthen'd sage advices, But to our tale: Ae market night, Care, mad to see a man sae happy, E'en drown'd himself amang the nappy, As bees flee hame wi' lades o' treasure, The minutes wing'd their way wi' pleasure: Kings may be blest, but Tam was glorious, O'er a' the ills o' life victorious. But pleasures are like poppies spread, You seize the flow'r, its bloom is shed ; Or like the snow-falls in the river, That flit ere you can point their place; Nae man can tether time or tide; The hour approaches Tam maun ride; As ne'er poor sinner was abroad in. The wind blew as 'twad blawn its last; The rattling show'rs rose on the blast; The speedy gleams the darkness swallow'd; Loud, deep, and lang, the thunder bellow'd: That night, a child might understand, The deil had business on his hand. Weel mounted on his grey mare, Meg, A better never lifted leg, Tam skelpit on thro' dub and mire, Despising wind, and rain, and fire; Whiles holding fast his guid blue bonnet; Whiles crooning o'er some auld Scots sonnet; Whiles glow'ring round wi' prudent cares, Lest bogles catch him unawares ; Kirk 2 |