THE ORDINATION.

They'll gie her on a rape a hoyse,
And cow her measure shorter

By th' head some day.

XIV.

Come, bring the tither mutchkin in,
And here's, for a conclusion,
To every New-light (43) mother's son,
From this time forth, Confusion:
If mair they deave us wi' their din,
Or Patronage intrusion,

We'll light a spunk, and, ev'ry skin,

We'll rin them aff in fusion

Like oil, some day.

TO

J. S****

Friendship! Mysterious cement of the soul!
Sweet'ner of Life, and solder of Society!
I owe thee much.-

DEAR S****, the sliest, paukie thief,
That e'er attempted stealth or rief,
Ye surely hae some warlock-breef

Owre human hearts;

For ne'er a bosom yet was prief

Against your arts.

For me, I swear by sun an' moon, And ev'ry star that blinks aboon, Ye've cost me twenty pair o' shoon

Just gaun to see you;

And ev'ry ither pair that's done,

Mair taen I'm wi' you,

BLAIR.

That auld capricious carlin, Nature, To mak amends for scrimpit stature, She's turn'd you aff, a human creature On her first plan,

And in her freaks, on ev'ry feature,

She's wrote, the Man.

Just now I've taen the fit o' rhyme, My barmie noddle's working prime,

My fancy yerkit up sublime

Some rhyme (vain thought!) for needfu' cash!

Some rhyme to court the countra clash,

An' raise a din;

For me, an aim I never fash;

I rhyme for fun.

The star that rules my

luckless lot,

Has fated me the russet coat,

An' damn'd my fortune to the groat

But in requit,

TO J. S

****

Has blest me wi' a random shot

O' countra wit.

This while my notion's taen a sklent, To try my fate in guid black prent; But still the mair I'm that way bent,

Something cries, 'Hoolie!

'I red you, honest man, tak tent!

Ye'll shaw your folly.

There's ither Poets, much your betters,

'Far seen in Greek, deep men o' letters,

Hae thought they had ensur'd their debtors, 'A' future ages;

Now moths deform in shapeless tatters,

Their unknown pages."

Then fareweel hopes o' laurel-boughs, To garland my poetic brows!

Henceforth I'll rove where busy ploughs

Are whistling thrang.

An' teach the lanely heights an' howes

My rustic sang.

I'll wander on with tentless heed,
How never-halting moments speed,
Till fate shall snap the brittle thread;
Then, all unknown,

I'll lay me with the inglorious dead,
Forgot and gone!

But why o' Death begin a tale? Just now we're living sound and hale, Then top and main-top crowd the sail,

Heave Care o'er-side!

And large, before Enjoyment's gale,

Let's tak the tide.

This life, sae far's I understand,

Is a' enchanted fairy land,

Where Pleasure is the Magic Wand,

That, wielded right,

Maks Hours like Minutes, hand in hand,

Dance by fu' light.

The magic wand then let us wield; For, ance that five-an'-forty's speel'd, See, crazy, weary, joyless Eild,

Wi' wrinkl'd face,