Sages their solemn een may steek,
An' raise a philosophic reek,

An' physically causes seek

In clime an' season;

But tell me whisky's name in Greek,
I'll tell the reason.

Scotland, my auld respected Mither!
Tho' whyles ye moistify your leather,
Till where ye sit, on craps o' heather,

Ye tine your dam--
Freedom and Whisky gang thegither!
Tak aff your dram!

ADDRESS TO THE UNCO GUID, OR THE

RIGIDLY RIGHTEOUS.

My son, these maxims make a rule,
And lump them aye 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. vii. 16).

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

Ye've nought to do but mark and tell
Your neibour's fauts and folly!
Whase life is like a weel-gaun mill,

Supplied wi' store o' water:

The heaped happer's ebbing still,
And still the clap plays clatter:

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Hear me, ye venerable core,

As counsel 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.

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

But cast a moment's fair regard
What maks 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' hidin'.

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 maks an unco leeway.

See Social life and Glee sit down,
All joyous and unthinking,

Till, quite transmogrified, they're grown
Debauchery and Drinking:

O would they stay to calculate
Th' eternal consequences;

Or your more dreaded hell to state,
Damnation of expenses!

Ye high, exalted, virtuous Dames,
Tied 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.

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

One point must still be greatly dark,
The moving why they do it;
And just as lamely can ye mark
How far perhaps they rue it.

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.

HOLY WILLIE'S PRAYER.

O THOU, wha in the Heavens dost dwell,
Wha, as it pleases best thysel',
Sends ane to heaven and ten to hell,
A' for thy glory,

And no for ony guid or ill

They've done afore thee!

I bless and praise thy matchless might,
Whan thousands thou hast left in night,
That I am here afore thy sight,

For gifts an' grace

A burnin' an' a shinin' light,

To a this place.

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What was I, or my generation,
That I should get sic exaltation?
I, wha deserve most just damnation,
For broken laws,

Sax thousand years 'fore my creation,
Thro' Adam's cause.

When frae my mither's womb I fell,
Thou might hae plunged me in hell,
To gnash my gums, to weep and wail,
In burnin' lakes,

Where damned devils roar and yell,
Chain'd to their stakes;

Yet I am here a chosen sample,
To show thy grace is great and ample;
I'm here a pillar in thy temple,

Strong as a rock,

A guide, a buckler, an example

To a' thy flock.

O Lord, thou kens what zeal I bear,
When drinkers drink, and swearers swear,
And singin' there and dancin' here,

Wi' great an' sma':

For I am keepit by thy fear

Free frae them a'.

But yet, O Lord! confess I must
At times I'm fash'd wi' fleshy lust;
An' sometimes too, in warldly trust,
Vile self gets in;

But thou remembers we are dust,
Defil'd in sin.

O Lord! yestreen, thou kens, wi' Meg

Thy pardon I sincerely beg;

O! may't ne'er be a livin' plague

To my dishonour,

An' I'll ne'er lift a lawless leg

Again upon her.

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Besides I farther maun allow,

Wi' Lizzie's lass, three times I trow-
But, Lord, that Friday I was fou,

When I cam near her,

Or else thou kens thy servant true

Wad never steer her.

May be thou lets this fleshly thorn
Beset thy servant e'en and morn

Lest he owre high and proud should turn,
That he's sae gifted;

If sae, thy hand maun e'en be borne,
Until thou lift it.

Lord, bless thy chosen in this place,
For here thou hast a chosen race;
But God confound their stubborn face,
And blast their name,

Wha bring thy elders to disgrace

An' public shame.

Lord, mind Gawn Hamilton's deserts,
He drinks, an' swears, an' plays at cartes,
Yet has sae mony takin' arts

Wi' grit an' sma',

Frae God's ain priest the people's hearts
He steals awa'.

An' when we chasten'd him therefor,
Thou kens how he bred sic a splore
As set the warld in a roar

O' laughin' at us;

Curse thou his basket and his store,
Kail and potatoes.

Lord, hear my earnest cry an' pray'r

Against that presbyt'ry o' Ayr;

Thy strong right hand, Lord, make it bare

Upo' their heads;

Lord, weigh it down, and dinna spare,

For their misdeeds.

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