"To give my counsels all in one, Thy tuneful flame still careful fan; Preserve the dignity of man, With soul erect; And trust, the universal plan Will all protect. "And wear thou this"-she solemn said, And bound the holly round my head: The polish'd leaves, and berries red, Did rustling play; And, like a passing thought, she fled In light away. ADDRESS TO THE UNCO GUID, OR THE RIGIDLY RIGHTEOUS, My son, these maxims make a rule, The rigid wise anither: The cleanest corn that e'er was dight 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 te II. Hear me, ye venerable core, As counsel for poor mortals, I, for their thoughtless, careless sakes, Their donsie tricks, their black mistakes, III. Ye see your state wi' theirs compar'd, But cast a moment's fair regard, And (what's aft mair than a' the lave) IV. Think, when your castigated pulse Wi' wind and tide fair i' your tail, But in the teeth o' baith to sail, V. See social life and glee sit down, "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, IV. Ye high, exalted, virtuous dames, Before ye gie poor frailty names, VII. Then gently scan your brother man, Tho' they may gang a kennin wrang, To step aside is human : One point must still be greatly dark, VIII. Who made the heart, 'tis he alone Decidedly can try us, He knows each chord-its various tone, We never can adjust it; What's done we partly may compute, But know not what's resisted. TAM SAMSON'S ELEGY. An honest man's the noblest work of God. Has auld K********* seen the deil? To preach an' read? "Na, waur than a'!" cries ilka chiel, Pope "Tum Samson's dead!5 K********* lang may grunt an' grane, To death, she's dearly paid the kane, Tam Samson's dead! The brethren of the mystic level Death's gein the lodge an unco devel, When winter muffles up his cloak, And binds the mire like a rock; * When this worthy old sportsman went out last muirfowl season, he supposed it was to be, in Ossian's phrase," the last of his fields ;" and expressed an ardent wish to die and be buried in the muirs. On this hint the author composed his elegy and epitaph. † A certain preacher, a great favourite with the million. Vide the Ordination, stanza II. Another preacher, an equal favourite with the few, who was at that time ailing. For him see also the Ordination, stanza IX. When to the loughs the curlers flock, Wi' gleesome speed, Wha will they station at the cock, Tam Samson's dead? He was the king o' a' the core To guard, or draw, or wick a bore, Or up the rink like Jehu roar In time of need; But now he lags on death's hog-score, Tam Samson's dead! Now safe the stately sawmont sail, And trouts bedropp'd wi' crimson hail, And eels well ken'd for souple tail, And geds for greed, Since dark in death's fish-creel we wail Rejoice, ye birring paitricks a'; Ye cootie moorcocks, crousely craw; Ye maukins, cock your fud fu' braw, Withouten dread; Your mortal fae is now awa', Tam Samson's dead! That woefu' morn be ever mourn'd Saw him in shootin graith adorn'd, While pointers round impatient burn'd, Frae couples freed; But, och! he gaed and ne'er return'd! Tam Samson's dead! In vain auld age his body batters; In vain the gout his ancles fetters; In vain the burns came down like waters, An acre braid! Now ev'ry auld wife, greetin, clatters, Tam Samson's dead! Owre many a weary hag he limpit, An' aye the tither shot he thumpit, |