May I be slander's common speech;
A text for infamy to preach;

And lastly, streekit out to bleach

In winter snaw;

When I forget thee! WILLIE CREECH,
Tho' far awa!

May never wicked fortune touzle him!
May never wicked men bamboozle him!
Until a pow as auld's Methusalem,

He canty claw!

Then to the blessed New Jerusalem,

Fleet wing awa!

TO GAVIN HAMILTON, ESQ. MAUCHLINE.

(RECOMMENDING A BOY.)

MOSSGIEL, May 3, 1786.

I HOLD it, Sir, my bounden duty

To warn you how that Master Tootie,

Alias, Laird M'Gaun,*

Was here to hire yon lad away

'Bout whom ye spak the tither day,

And wad hae don't aff han':
But lest he learn the callan tricks,
As faith I muckle doubt him,
Like scrapin' out auld Crummie's nicks
And tellin' lies about them;

• Master Tootie then lived in Mauchline; a dealer in cows. It was his common practice to cut the nicks or markings from the horns of cattle, to disguise their age.-He was an artful trick-contriving character; hence he is called a Snick-drawer. In the Poet's "Address to the Deil," he styles that august personage an auld, snick-drawing dog!

As lieve then I'd have then,

Your clerkship he should sair, If sae be, ye may be

Not fitted otherwhere.

Altho' I say't, he's gleg enough,

And 'bout a house that's rude and rough,
The boy might learn to swear;
But then wi' you, he'll be sae taught,
And get sic fair example straught,
I hae na ony fear.

Ye'll catechize him every quirk,
And shore him weel wi' hell;
And gar him follow to the kirk-
—Aye when ye gang yoursel.
If ye then, maun be then

Frae hame this comin Friday;
Then please sir, to lea'e sir,
The orders wi' your lady.

My word of honour I hae gien,
In Paisley John's, that night at e'en,
To meet the warld's worm;

To try to get the twa to gree,
And name the airles and the fee,
In legal mode and form :

I ken he weel a Snick can draw,
When simple bodies let him;
And if a Devil be at a',
In faith he's sure to get him.

To phrase you and praise you,
Ye ken your Laureat scorns;
The pray'r still, you share still,

Of grateful MINstrel Burns.

TO MR M'ADAM, or CRAIGEN-GILLAN,

IN ANSWER TO AN OBLIGING LETTER HE SENT IN THE COM-
MENCEMENT OF MY POETIC CAREER.

SIR, o'er a gill I gat your card,
I trow it made me proud;
See wha taks notice o' the bard!
I lap and cry'd fu' loud.

Now deil-ma-care about their jaw,
The senseless, gawky million;
I'll cock my nose aboon them a',
I'm roos'd by Craigen-Gillan !

'Twas noble, Sir; 'twas like yoursel,
To grant your high protection:
A great man's smile ye ken fu' weel,
Is aye a blest infection.

Tho', by his banes wha in a tub
Match'd Macedonian Sandy!
On my ain legs thro' dirt and dub,
I independent stand aye.—

And when those legs to gude warm kail,

Wi' welcome canna bear me;

A lee dyke-side, a sybow-tail,

And barley-scone shall cheer me.

Heaven spare you lang to kiss the breath
O' mony flow'ry simmers!

And bless your bonnie lasses baith,

I'm tald they're loosome kimmers !

And God bless young Dunaskin's laird,
The blossom of our gentry!

And may he wear an auld man's beard,
A credit to his country.

• Diogenes.

TO CAPTAIN RIDDEL, GLENRIDDel.

(EXTEMPORE LINES ON RETURNING A NEWSPAPER.)

ELLISLAND, Monday Evening.

YOUR news and review, Sir, I've read through and through, With little admiring or blaming:

The papers are barren of home-news or foreign,

No murders or rapes worth the naming.

Our friends the reviewers, those chippers and hewers,
Are judges of mortar and stone, Sir;

But of meet, or unmeet, in a fabrick complete,
I'll boldly pronounce they are none, Sir.

My goose-quill too rude is to tell all your goodness
Bestow'd on your servant, the Poet ;

Would to God I had one like a beam of the sun,
And then all the world, Sir, should know it!

[Sir,

TO TERRAUGHTY, ON HIS BIRTH-DAY.

HEALTH to the Maxwells' vet'ran Chief!

Health, aye unsour'd by care or grief:

Inspir'd, I turn'd Fate's sibyl leaf,

This natal morn,

I see thy life is stuff o' prief,

Scarce quite half worn.

This day thou metes threescore eleven,
And I can tell that bounteous Heaven

• Mr Maxwell, of Terraughty, near Dumfries.

(The second sight, ye ken, is given To ilka POET)

On thee a tack o' seven times seven

Will yet bestow it.

If envious buckies view wi' sorrow,

Thy lengthen'd days on this blest morrow,
May desolation's lang teeth'd harrow,

Nine miles an hour,

Rake them, like Sodom and Gomorrah,
In brunstane stoure-

But for thy friends, and they are mony,
Baith honest men and lasses bonnie,
May couthie fortune, kind and cannie,
In social glee,

Wi' mornings blythe and e'enings funny,
Bless them and thee!

Fareweel, auld birkie! Lord be near ye,
And then the deil he daurna steer ye :

Your friends aye love,

faes your

aye

fear ye,

For me, shame fa' me,

If neist my heart I dinna wear ye,

While BURNS they ca' me.

TO A LADY,*

WITH A PRESENT OF A PAIR OF DRINKING GLASSES.

FAIR Empress of the Poet's soul,

And Queen of Poetesses;

Clarinda, take this little boon,

This humble pair of glasses.—

• Mrs M'Lehose.

U