ON A LADY FAMED FOR HER CAPRICE.
How cold is that bosom which folly once fired, How pale is that cheek where the rouge lately glisten'd!
How silent that tongue which the echoes oft tired, How dull is that ear which to flattery so listen'd!
If sorrow and anguish their exit await,
From friendship and dearest affection remov'd; How doubly severer, Eliza, thy fate,
Thou diedst unwept as thou livedst unlov'd.
Loves, graces and virtues, I call not on you;
So shy, grave and distant, ye shed not a tear: But come, all ye offspring of folly so true,
And flowers let us cull for Eliza's cold bier.
We'll search through the garden for each silly flower,
We'll roam thro' the forest for each idle weed; But chiefly the nettle so typical, shower,
For none e'er approached her but rued the rash deed.
We'll sculpture the marble, we'll measure the lay,
Here vanity strums on her idiot lyre;
There keen indignation shall dart on her prey,
Which spurning contempt shall redeem from
Here lies, now a prey to insulting neglect, What once was a butterfly gay in life's beam: Want only of wisdom denied her respect, Want only of goodness denied her esteem.
Answer to a mandate sent by the Surveyor of the Windows, Carriages, &c. to each Farmer, ordering him to send a signed List of his Horses, Servants, Wheel-Carriages, &c. and whether he was a married Man or a Bachelor, and what Children they had.
SIR, as your mandate did request,
I send you here a faithfu' list,
My horses, servants, carts and graith,
To which I'm free to tak my aith.
Imprimis, then, for carriage cattle,
I hae four brutes o' gallant mettle,
As ever drew before a pettle.
My hand-afore,* a guid auld has-been,
And wight and wilfu' a' his days seen;
* The fore-horse on the left-hand in the plough.
My hand-a-hin,* a guid brown filly,
Wha aft has borne me safe frae Killie, +
And your auld borough mony a time,
In days when riding was nae crime:
My fur-a-hin,§ a guid grey beast,
As e'er in tug or tow was trac'd:
The fourth, a Highland Donald hasty,
A d-mn'd red-wud Kilburnie blastie.
For-by a cowte, of cowtes the wale,
As ever ran before a tail;
An' he be spar'd to be a beast,
He'll draw me fifteen pund at least.
Wheel carriages I hae but few,
Three carts, and twa are feckly new ;
An auld wheel-barrow, mair for token,
Ae leg and baith the trams are broken;
I made a poker o' the spindle,
And my auld mither brunt the trundle.
For men, I've three mischievous boys,
Run-deils for rantin and for noise;
A gadsman ane, a thresher t'other,
Wee Davoc hauds the nowte in fother.
*The hindmost on the left-hand, in the plough. + Kilmarnock.
§ The same on the right-hand, in the plough.
I rule them as I ought discreetly,
And often labour them completely,
And ay on Sundays duly nightly,
I on the questions tairge them tightly,
Till faith wee Davoc's grown sae gleg,
(Tho' scarcely langer than my leg)
He'll screed you off effectual calling,
As fast as ony in the dwalling.
I've nane in female servant station,
Lord keep me ay frae a' temptation!
I hae nae wife, and that my bliss is,
And ye hae laid nae tax on misses;
For weans I'm mair than weel contented,
Heaven sent me ane mair than I wanted;
My sonsie, smirking, dear-bought Bess,
She stares the daddie in her face,
Enough of ought ye like but grace.
But her, my bonny, sweet, wee lady,
I've said enough for her already,
And if ye tax her or her mither,
By the L--d ye'se get them a' thegither!
And now, remember, Mr. Aiken,
Nae kind of licence out I'm taking.
Thro' dirt and dub for life I'll paidle,
Ere I sae dear pay for a saddle;
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