Forms like some bedlam statuary's dream,
The crazed creations of misguided whim;
Forms might be worshipped on the bended knee,
And still the second dread command be free,
Their likeness is not found on earth, in air, or sea.
Mansions that would disgrace the building taste
Of any mason reptile, bird, or beast;
Fit only for a doited monkish race,

Or frosty maids forsworn the dear embrace,
Or cuifs of latter times, wha held the notion
That sullen gloom was sterling true devotion;
Fancies that our guid brugh denies protection,-
And soon may they expire, unblest with resurrection!

AULD BRIG.

O ye, my dear-remembered, ancient yealings,
Were
ye but here to share my wounded feelings!
Ye worthy proveses, an' mony a bailie,
Wha in the paths o' righteousness did toil aye;
Ye dainty deacons, an' ye douce conveeners,
To whom our moderns are but causey-cleaners;
Ye godly councils wha hae blest this town;
Ye godly brethren of the sacred gown,
Wha meekly gie your hurdies to the smiters;
And (what would now be strange) ye godly writers:
A' ye douce folk I've borne aboon the broo,

Were ye but here, what would ye say or do!
How would your spirits groan in deep vexation,
To see each melancholy alteration;

And agonizing, curse the time and place
When ye begat the base, degen'rate race!
Nae langer reverend men, their country's glory,
In plain braid Scots hold forth a plain braid story!
Nae langer thrifty citizens, and douce,

Meet owre a pint, or in the Council-house;

But staumrel, corky-headed, graceless gentry,

The herryment and ruin of the country;

Men, three parts made by tailors and by barbers,

Wha waste your weel-hained gear on damned new brigs and harbours!

NEW BRIG.

Now haud you there! for faith ye 've said enough,
And muckle mair than ye can mak to through:
As for your priesthood, I shall say but little,
Corbies and clergy are a shot right kittle:
But, under favour o' your langer beard,
Abuse o' magistrates might weel be spared:
To liken them to your auld-warld squad,
I must needs say, comparisons are odd.
In Ayr, wag-wits nae mair can hae a handle
To mouth a citizen,' a term o' scandal:
Nae mair the council waddles down the street,
In all the pomp of ignorant conceit;

Men wha grew wise priggin' owre hops an' raisins,
Or gathered liberal views in bonds and seisins.
If haply Knowledge, on a random tramp,
Had shored them with a glimmer of his lamp,
And would to Common-sense for once betrayed them,
Plain, dull Stupidity stept kindly in to aid them.

What farther clishmaclaver might been said,
What bloody wars, if sprites had blood to shed,
No man can tell; but all before their sight
A fairy train appeared, in order bright:
Adown the glittering stream they featly danced;
Bright to the moon their various dresses glanced:
They footed o'er the watery glass so neat,
The infant ice scarce bent beneath their feet:
While arts of minstrelsy among them rung,
And soul-ennobling bards heroic ditties sung.

Oh, had M'Lauchlan, thairm-inspiring sage,
Been there to hear this heavenly band engage,
When through his dear strathspeys they bore with
Highland rage:

Or when they struck old Scotia's melting airs,
The lover's raptured joys or bleeding cares;
How would his Highland lug been nobler fired,
And e'en his matchless hand with finer touch inspired!
No guess could tell what instrument appeared,
But all the soul of Music's self was heard;
Harmonious concert rung in every part,

While simple melody poured moving on the heart.

The Genius of the stream in front appears,
A venerable chief, advanced in years;
His hoary head with water-lilies crowned,
His manly leg with garter tangle bound.
Next came the loveliest pair in all the ring,
Sweet Female Beauty hand in hand with Spring;
Then, crowned with flowery hay, came Rural Joy,
And Summer, with his fervid beaming eye:
All-cheering Plenty, with her flowing horn,
Led yellow Autumn wreathed with nodding corn;
Then Winter's time-bleached locks did hoary show,
By Hospitality with cloudless brow.

Next followed Courage with his martial stride,
From where the Feal wild-woody coverts hide;
Benevolence, with mild benignant air,

A female form, came from the towers of Stair:
Learning and Worth in equal measures trode
From simple Catrine, their long-loved abode :
Last, white-robed Peace, crowned with a hazel wreath,
To rustic Agriculture did bequeath

The broken iron instruments of death;

At sight of whom our sprites forgat their kindling wrath.

THE JOLLY BEGGARS.

A Cantata.

RECITATIVO.

WHEN lyart leaves bestrew the yird,
Or, wavering like the bauckie-bird,
Bedim cauld Boreas' blast;

When hailstanes drive wi' bitter skyte,
And infant frosts begin to bite,
In hoary cranreuch drest;
Ae night, at e'en, a merry core
O' randie, gangrel bodies,
In Poosie Nansie's held the splore,
To drink their orra duddies:

Wi' quaffing and laughing,
They ranted and they sang;
Wi' jumping and thumping,
The vera girdle rang.

First, neist the fire, in auld red rags,
Ane sat, weel braced wi' mealy bags,
And knapsack a' in order;
His doxy lay within his arm,
Wi' usquebae an' blankets warm-
She blinket on her sodger:
An' ay he gi'ed the tozie drab
The tither skelpin' kiss,
While she held up her greedy gab

Just like an aumos dish.

Ilk smack still did crack still,
Just like a cadger's whup,
Then staggering and swaggering,
He roared this ditty up :-

AIR.

I am a son of Mars, who have been in many wars,
And show my cuts and scars wherever I come;

This here was for a wench, and that other in a trench,
When welcoming the French at the sound of the drum.
Lal de daudle.

My 'prenticeship I past where my leader breathed his last,
When the bloody die was cast on the heights of Abram;
I served out my trade when the gallant game was played,
And the Moro low was laid at the sound of the drum.
I lastly was with Curtis, among the floating batt'ries,
And there I left for witness an arm and a limb;
Yet let my country need me, with Elliot to head me,
I'd clatter on my stumps at the sound of a drum.

And now though I must beg, with a wooden arm and leg,
And many a tattered rag hanging over my bum,
I'm as happy with my wallet, my bottle, and my callet,
As when I used in scarlet to follow a drum.

What though, with hoary locks, I must stand the winter shocks,

Beneath the woods and rocks oftentimes for a home, When the tother bag I sell, and the tother bottle tell, I could meet a troop of hell at the sound of a drum.

RECITATIVO.

He ended; and the kebars sheuk
Aboon the chorus' roar;

While frighted rattons backward leuk,
And seek the benmost bore.

A fairy fiddler, fra the neuk,
He skirlèd out 'Encore!'

But up arose the martial chuck,
And laid the loud uproar.