To mend the honest patriot-lore,

And grace the hand.

"And when the bard, or hoary sage, Charm or instruct the future age, They bind the wild poetic rage

In energy,

Or point the inconclusive page

Full on the eye.

"Hence, Fullarton, the brave and young;
Hence, Dempster's zeal-inspirèd tongue;
Hence, sweet, harmonious Beattie sung
His Minstrel' lays;

Or tore, with noble ardour stung,

The sceptic's bays.

"To lower orders are assign'd

The humbler ranks of human-kind,
The rustic bard, the lab'ring hind,
The artisan;

All choose, as various they're inclin'd,
The various man.

"When yellow waves the heavy grain,
The threat'ning storm some strongly rein;
Some teach to meliorate the plain

With tillage-skill;

And some instruct the shepherd-train,
Blythe o'er the hill.

"Some hint the lover's harmless wile;
Some grace the maiden's artless smile;
Some soothe the lab'rer's weary toil

For humble gains,

of the guardian spirits

Beginnings and growth

And make his cottage-scenes beguile
His cares and pains.

"Some, bounded to a district-space,
Explore at large man's infant race,
To mark the embryotic trace

Of rustic bard;

And careful note each opening grace,

A guide and guard.

“Of these am I-Coila my name :
And this district as mine I claim,
Where once the Campbells, chiefs of fame,
Held ruling pow'r :

I mark'd thy embryo-tuneful flame,

Thy natal hour.

"With future hope I oft would gaze
Fond, on thy little early ways,
Thy rudely caroll'd, chiming phrase,
In uncouth rhymes;

Fir'd at the simple, artless lays

Of other times.

"I saw thee seek the sounding shore,
Delighted with the dashing roar ;
Or when the North his fleecy store
Drove thro' the sky,

I saw grim Nature's visage hoar

Struck thy young eye.

"Or when the deep green-mantled earth
Warm cherish'd ev'ry floweret's birth,
And joy and music pouring forth

In ev'ry grove;

I saw thee eye the general mirth
With boundless love.

"When ripen'd fields and azure skies Call'd forth the reapers' rustling noise, I saw thee leave their ev'ning joys,

And lonely stalk,

To vent thy bosom's swelling rise,
In pensive walk.

"When youthful love, warm-blushing, strong, Keen-shivering, shot thy nerves along, Those accents grateful to thy tongue,

Th' adored Name,

To soothe thy flame.

"I saw thy pulse's maddening play,
Wild send thee Pleasure's devious way,
Misled by Fancy's meteor-ray,

By passion driven;

But yet the light that led astray

Was light from Heaven.

"I taught thy manners-painting strains,
The loves, the ways of simple swains,
Till now, o'er all my wide domains
Thy fame extends;
And some, the pride of Coila's plains,
Become thy friends.

"Thou canst not learn, nor I can show,
To paint with Thomson's landscape glow;
Or wake the bosom-melting throe,

With Shenstone's art;

The poet crowned by the Muse

Or

pour, with Gray, the moving flow Warm on the heart.

"Yet, all beneath th' unrivall'd rose,
The lowly daisy sweetly blows;
Tho' large the forest's monarch throws
His army shade,

Yet green the juicy hawthorn grows,
Adown the glade.

“Then never murmur nor repine;
Strive in thy humble sphere to shine;
And trust me, not Potosi's mine,

Nor king's regard,

Can give a bliss o'ermatching thine,
A rustic bard.

"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.

THE INVENTORY

IN ANSWER TO A MANDATE BY THE SURVEYOR

OF THE TAXES

SIR, as your mandate did request,
I send you here a faithfu' list,

O' gudes an' gear, an' a' my graith,
To which I'm clear to gi'e my aith.

Imprimis, then, for carriage cattle,
I hae four brutes o' gallant mettle,
As ever drew before a pettle.
My hand-afore 's a guid auld has been,'
An' wight an' wilfu' a' his days been:
My hand-abin's a weel gaun fillie,
That aft has borne me hame frae Killie,
An' your auld borough mony a time
In days when riding was nae crime.
But ance, when in my wooing pride
I, like a blockhead, boost to ride,
The wilfu' creature sae I pat to,
(Lord pardon a' my sins, an' that too!)
I play'd my fillie sic a shavie,
She's a' bedevil'd wi' the spavie.
My furr-ahin's a wordy beast,
As e'er in tug or tow was traced.
The fourth's a Highland Donald hastie,
A damn'd red-wud Kilburnie blastie !
Forby a cowt, o' cowts the wale,
As ever ran before a tail:

Gin he be spar'd to be a beast,
He'll draw me fifteen pund at least.
Wheel-carriages I hae but few,
Three carts, an' twa are feckly new;
An auld wheelbarrow, mair for token,
Ae leg an' baith the trams are broken;
I made a poker o' the spin'le,
An' my auld mither brunt the trin'le.

For men, I've three mischievous boys,
Run-deils for rantin an' for noise;

Horses and carts