ADDRESS

TO THE UNCO GUID, OR RIGIDLY RIGHTEOUS!

My son, these maxims make a rule,
And lump them ay thegither;
The rigid Righteous is a fool,
The rigid Wise anither;

The cleanest corn that e'er was dight
May hae some pyles o' caff in;
So ne'er a fellow-creature slight
For random fits o' daffin.

Solomon.-Eccles. ch. vii. ver. 16.

I.

O YE wha are sae guid yoursel,
Sae pious and sae holy,

Ye've nought to do but mark and tell
Your neebor's faults and folly!
Whase life is like a weel-gaun mill,
Supply'd wi' store o' water,
The heapet happer's ebbing still,
And still the clap plays clatter.

II.

Hear me, ye venerable core,
As counsels for poor mortals,
That frequent pass douce Wisdom's door
For glaikit Folly's portals;

I, for their thoughtless, careless sakes,
Would here propone defences,

Their donsie tricks, their black mistakes,
Their failings and mischances.

III.

Ye see your state wi' their's compar'd,
And shudder at the niffer,

But cast a moment's fair regard,
What makes the mighty differ;
Discount what scant occasion gave,
That purity ye pride in,

And (what's aft mair than a' the lave)
Your better art o' hiding.

IV.

Think, when your castigated pulse
Gies now and then a wallop,
What ragings must his veins convulse,
That still eternal gallop:

Wi' wind and tide fair i' your tail,
Right on ye scud your sea-way:
But in the teeth o' baith to sail,
It makes an unco leeway.

V.

See social life and glee sit down,
All joyous and unthinking,
Till quite transmugrify'd, they're grown
Debauchery and drinking:

O, would they stay to calculate

Th' eternal consequences;
Or your more dreaded hell to state,
D-mnation of expenses!

VI.

Ye high, exalted, virtuous dames,
Ty'd up in godly laces,

Before ye gie poor frailty names,
Suppose a change o' cases;

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A dear lov'd lad, convenience snug,
A treacherous inclination-
But, let me whisper i' your lug,
Ye're aiblins nae temptation.

VII.

Then gently scan your brother man,
Still gentler sister woman;
Tho' they may gang a kenning wrang;
To step aside is human:

One point must still be greatly dark,
'The moving why they do it;
And just as namely can ye mark,

How far perhaps they rue it.

VII.

Who made the heart, 'tis He alone
Decidedly can try us,

He knows each chord-its various tone,
Each spring-its various bias;

Then at the balance let's be mute,
We never can adjust it;

What's done we partly may compute,

But know not what's resisted.

THE TWA HERDS.*

OA'ye pious, godly flocks,
Well fed on pastures orthodox,

*This piece was among the first of our Author's productions which he submitted to the public; and ccasioned by a dispute between two ClergyKilmarnock.

Wha now will keep you frae the fox,
Or worrying tykes,

Or wha will tent the waifs and crocks,
About the dykes?

The twa best herds in a' the wast,
That e'er gae gospel horn a blast,
These five-and-twenty summers past,
O! dool to tell,

Hae had a bitter, black out-cast

OM

Atween themsel.

-y, man, and wordy R-ll,

How could you raise so vile a bustle,
Ye'll see how new-light Herds will whistle,
And think it fine?

The L-d's cause ne'er gat sic a twistle,
Sin' I hae min'.

O, Sirs! whae'er wad hae expeckit,
Your duty ye wad sae negleckit,
Ye wha were ne'er by lairds respeckit,
To wear the plaid,

But by the brutes themselves eleckit,
To be their guide.

What flock wi' My's flock could rank, Sae hale and hearty every shank, Nae poison'd sour Arminian stank,

He let them taste,

Frae Calvin's well, ay clear they drank,
O sic a feast!

The thummart wil'-cat, brock, and tod, Weel kenn'd his voice thro' a' the wood. He smell'd their ilka hole and road,

Baith out and in,

And weel he lik'd to shed their bluid,
And sell their skin.

What Herd like R-ll tell'd his tale,
His voice was heard thro' muir and dale,
He kenn'd the Lord's sheep, ilka tail,
O'er a' the height,

And saw gin they were sick or hale,
At the first sight.

He fine a mangy sheep could scrub,
Or nobly fling the gospel club,

And new-light Herds could nicely drub,
Or pay ther skin,

Could shake them o'er the burning dub;
Or heave them in.

Sic twa!-O, do I live to see't! Sic famous twa should disagreet, An' names, like villain, hypocrite, Ilk ither gi'en,

While new-light Herds, wi' laughin spite, Say neither's liein'!

A' ye wha tent the gospel fauld, There's D- -n deep, and P-s, shaul, But chiefly thou, apostle A-d,

We trust in thee,

That thou wilt work them, hot and cauld, Till they agree.

Consider, Sirs, how we're beset, There's scarce a new Herd that we get, But comes frae 'mang that eursed set,

I winna name,

I hope frae heav'n to see them yet

In fiery flame.