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Forbye, he'll shape you af fu' gleg
The cut of Adam's philibeg;
The knife that nicket Abel's craig

He'll prove you fully,

It was a faulding jocteleg,

Or lang-kail gullie.—

But wad ye see him in his glee,
For meikle glee and fun has he,
Then set him down, and twa or three

Gude fellows wi' him;

And port, O port! shine thou a wee,

And then ye'll see him!

Now, by the pow'rs o' verse and prose!
Thou art a dainty chield, O Grose!—
Whae'er o' thee shall ill suppose,

They sair misca' thee;

I'd take the rascal by the nose,

Wad say, Shame fa' thee.

THE

HUMBLE PETITION

I

OF BRUAR WATER TO THE NOBLE DUKE OF

ATHOLE.

My Lord, I know, your noble ear
Woe ne'er assails in vain;
Embolden'd thus, I beg you'll hear
Your humble slave complain,
How saucy Phoebus' scorching beams,
In flaming summer-pride,
Dry-withering, waste my foamy streams,
And drink my crystal tide.

The lightly-jumping glowrin trouts,
That thro' my waters play,
If, in their random, wanton spouts,
They near the margin stray;
If, hapless chance! they linger lang,
I'm scorching up so shallow,
They're left the whitening stanes amang,
In gasping death to wallow.

Last day I grat wi' spite and teen,
As poet Burns came by,
That, to a bard I should be seen
Wi' half my channel dry:

1 Bruar Falls, in Athole, are exceedingly picturesque and beautiful; but their effect is much impaired by the want of trees and shrubs.

A panegyric rhyme, I ween,
Even as I was he shor'd me;
But had I in my glory been,

He, kneeling, wad ador'd me.

Here, foaming down the skelvy rocks,
In twisting strength I rin;
There, high my boiling torrent smokes,
Wild-roaring o'er a linn:
Enjoying large each spring and well
As Nature gave them me,
I am, altho' I say't mysel,
Worth gaun a mile to see.

Would then my noble master please
To grant my highest wishes,
He'll shade my banks wi' tow'ring trees,
And bonnie spreading bushes.
Delighted doubly then, my Lord,
You'll wander on my banks,
And listen mony a grateful bird
Return you tuneful thanks.

The sober laverock, warbling wild,
Shall to the skies aspire;
The gowdspink, music's gayest child,
Shall sweetly join the choir:
The black bird strong, the lintwhite clear,
The mavis mild and mellow;
The robin pensive autumn cheer,
In all her locks of yellow :

This too a covert shall ensure,

To shield them from the storm; And coward maukin sleep secure, Low in her grassy form:

Here shall the shepherd make his seat,
To weave his crown of flow'rs;
Or find a sheltering safe retreat,
From prone descending show'rs.

And here, by sweet endearing stealth,
Shall meet the loving pair,

Despising worlds with all their wealth
As empty idle care:

The flowers shall vie in all their charms
The hour of heaven to grace,
And birks extend their fragrant arms
To screen the dear embrace.

Here haply too, at vernal dawn,
Some musing bard may stray,
And eye the smoking, dewy lawn,
And misty mountain, grey;
Or, by the reaper's nightly beam,
Mild-chequering through the trees,
Rave to my darkly dashing stream,
Hoarse-swelling on the breeze.

Let lofty firs, and ashes cool,
My lowly banks o'erspread,
And view, deep-bending in the pool,
Their shadows' watry bed!

Let fragrant birks in woodbines drest
My craggy cliffs adorn;

And, for the little songster's nest,
The close embowering thorn.

So may, old Scotia's darling hope,
Your little angel band,

Spring, like their fathers, up to prop
Their honour'd native land!

So may through Albion's farthest ken,
To social-flowing glasses,

The grace be- Athole's honest men,
And Athole's bonnie lasses !'

ON THE

BIRTH OF A POSTHUMOUS CHILD,

BORN IN PECULIAR CIRCUMSTANCES OF FAMILY

DISTRESS.

SWEET floweret, pledge o' meikle love,

And ward o' mony a pray'r,

What heart o' stane wad thou na' move,
Sae helpless, sweet, and fair.

November hirples o'er the lea,
Chill, on thy lovely form;

And gane, alas! the sheltering tree,
Should shield thee frae the storm.

May HE who gies the rain to pour,
And wings the blast to blaw,
Protect thee frae the driving show'r,
The bitter frost and snaw.

May HE, the friend of woe and want,
Who heals life's various stounds,
Protect and guard the mother plant,
And heal her cruel wounds.

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