Yet nature's charms, the hills and woods,
The sweeping vales and foaming floods,
Are free alike to all.

In days when daisies deck the ground,
And blackbirds whistle clear,
With honest joy our hearts will bound,
To see the coming year:

On braes when we please, then,
We'll sit and sowth a tune;
Syne rhyme till't, we'll time till❜t,
And sing't when we hae done,

It's no in titles nor in rank;
It's no in wealth like Lon'on bank,
To purchase peace and rest;
It's no-in makin muckle mair:
It's no in books: it's no in lear;
To make us truly blest:
If happiness hae not her seat
And centre in the breast,
We may be wise, or rich, or great,
But never can be blest;

Nae treasures, nor pleasures,
Could make us happy lang;
The heart ay's the part ay,
That makes us right or wrang.

Think ye, that sic as you an' I,

Wha drudge and drive thro' wet and dry,
Wi' never-ceasing toil,

Think ye, are we less blest than they
Wha scarcely tent us in their way,
As hardly worth their while?
Alas! how aft in haughty mood
God's creature's they oppress
Or else, neglecting a' that's guid,
They riot in excess !

Baith careless and fearless
Of either heaven or hell!

Esteeming and deeming

It's a' an idle tale!

Then let us chearfu' acquiesce;

!

Nor make our scanty pleasures less,

By pining at our state;

And, even should misfortunes come,
I, here wha sit, hae met wi' some,
An's thankfu' for them yet.
They gie the wit of age to youth;
They let us ken oursel;
They mak us see the naked truth,
The real guid and ill.

Tho' losses, and crosses,

Be lessons right severe,
There's wit there, ye'll get there,
Ye'll find nae other where.

But tent me, Davie, ace o' hearts,
(To say aught less wad wrang the cartes,
And flatt'ry I detest)
This life has joys for you and I;
And joys that riches ne'er could buy ;
And joys the very best.

There's a' the pleasures o' the heart,
The lover an' the frien';

Ye hae your Meg, your dearest part,
And I my darling Jean!

It warms me, it charms me,
To mention but her name:

It heats me, it beets me,
And sets me a' on flame!

O all ye pow'rs, who rule above!
O Thou, whose very self art love!
Thou know'st my words sincere!
The life-blood streaming through my heart,
Or my more dear immortal part,
Is not more fondly dear!
When heart-corroding care and grief
Deprive my soul of rest,
Her dear idea brings relief
And solace to my breast.
Thou Being, All-seeing,

Oh hear my fervent pray'r;

Still take her, and make her
Thy most peculiar care!

All hail, ye tender feelings dear
The smile of love, the friendly tear,

The sympathetic glow;

Long since this world's sharp thorny ways
Had number'd out my weary days,

Had it not been for you!

Fate still has blest me with a friend,

In ev'ry care and ill;

And oft a more endearing band,
A tie more tender still.

It lightens, it brightens
The tenebrific scene,

To meet with, and greet with
My Davie or my Jean.

O, how that name inspires my style!
The words come skelpin rank and file,
Amaist before I ken!

The ready measure rins as fine
As Phoebus and the famous Nine
Were glowrin owre my pen.

My spaviet Pegasus will limp,
Till ance he's fairly het;

And then he'll hilch, and stilt, and jimp,
And rin an unco fit:

But lest then, the beast then,

Should rue this hasty ride,

I'll light now, and dight now
His sweaty wizen'd hide.

SECOND EPISTLE TO DAVIE.*
AULD NEEBOR,

I'M three times, doubly o'er, your debtor,
For your auld-farrent frien'ly letter;
Tho' I maun say't, I doubt ye flatter,

Ye speak sae fair;

For my puir, silly, rhymin clatter

Some less maun sair.

Prefixed to the Poems of David Sillar, published at Kil

marnock, 1789.

* YOU

'ban

Javie, la ced the Mi it sae,

2265 as you

I'm on e words vis daez't w

yles, but

the thought Samen me to t

Cept it be som

devil-haet,

Te thought, nae Fat cares to gie Just the pouch en biltie, skilt

Leeze me on rhym

My chief, amaist Athame, a fiel, a Though rough and

Hand to the Mu

The warl' may

But for the M

= Hale be your heart, hale be your fiddle ; Lang may your elbuck jink and diddle, To chear you thro' the weary widdle

O' war❜ly cares,

Till bairns' bairns kindly cuddle

Your auld gray hairs.

But, Davie, lad, I'm red ve're glaikit;
I'm tauld the Muse ye hae negleckit;
An' gif its sae, ye sud be licket

Until ye fyke;

Sic hauns as you sud ne'er be faiket,

Be hain't wha like.

For me, I'm on Parnassus' brink,
Rivin the words to gar them clink;

Whyles daez't wi' love, whyles daez't wi' drink,

Wi' jads or masons;

An' whyles, but ay owre late I think

Braw sober lessons.

Of a' the thoughtless sons o' man,
Commen' me to the bardie clan;
Except it be some idle plan

The devil-haet, that I sud ban,

O' rhymin' clink,

They ever think.

Nae thought, nae view, nae scheme o' livin',
Nae cares to gie us joy or grievin' :

But just the pouchie put the nieve in,

An' while ought's there,

Then hiltie, skiltie, we gae scrivin',

An' fash nae mair.

Leeze me on rhyme ! it's ay a treasure,
My chief, amaist my only pleasure,
At hame, a fiel, at wark, or leisure,

The Muse, poor hizzie!
Though rough and raploch be her measure,
She's seldom lazy.

Haud to the Muse, my dainty Davie:
The warl' may play you monie a shavie;
But for the Muse, she'll never leave ye,

Tho' e'er sae pair,

Frae door to door.

Na, even tho' limpan wi' the spavie

LORD GREGORY.

MIRK, mirk is this midnight hour,
And loud the tempest's roar;

A waefu' wand'rer seeks thy tow'r,
Lord Gregory ope thy door.

An exile frae her father's ha',
And a' for loving thee;
At least some pity on me shaw,
If love it may na be.

Lord Gregory, mind'st thou not the grove,
By bonnie Irwine-side,
Where first I own'd that virgin-love

I lang, lang had denied?

How aften didst thou pledge and vow,

Thou wad for ay be mine!

And my fond heart, itsel sae true,

It ne'er mistrusted thine..

Hard is thy heart, Lord Gregory,
And flinty is thy breast?
Thou dart of Heav'n that flashest by,
O wilt thou give me rest!

Ye must'ring thunders from above,
Your willing victim see!

But spare, and pardon my fause love
His wrangs to heav'n and me!

WINTER.

A DIRGE.

THE wintry west extends his blast.

And hail and rain does blaw;