That aft hae made us black and blae,
Wi' vengefu' paws.

Auld Wodrow1 lang has hatched mischief,
We thought aye death wad bring relief,
But he has gotten, to our grief,

Ane to succeed him,

A chield wha'll soundly buff our beef;
I meikle dread him.

And monie a ane that I could tell,
Wha fain would openly rebel,

Forby turn-coats amang oursel❜;

There's Smith for ane,2

I doubt he's but a gray-nick quill,
And that ye'll fin'.

besides

scholar. Dr. David, in personal respects, was a prodigy. He was ninety-one years of age before he required an assistant. At that period of life he read without the use of glasses, wrote a neat small hand, and had not a furrow in his cheek or a wrinkle in his brow. He was Moderator of the General Assembly in 1775. This amiable man died April 26, 1810, in the ninety-second year of his age, and sixty-first of his ministry.

1 There were three brothers of this name, descended from the church historian, and all ministers- -one at Eastwood, their ancestor's charge; the second at Stevenston; and the third, Dr. Peter Wodrow, at Torbolton. Dr. Peter is the person named in the poem. The assistant and successor mentioned in the verse was M'Math, elsewhere alluded to.

2 Rev. Mr. Smith, minister of Galston. He is one of the tent-preachers in the Holy Fair.

Oh a' ye flocks o'er a' the hills,

By mosses, meadows, moors, and fells,
Come, join your counsel and your skills
To cowe the lairds,

And get the brutes the powers themsels
To choose their herds.

Then Orthodoxy yet may prance,
And Learning in a woody dance,
And that fell cur ca'd Common Sense,
That bites sae sair,

Be banished o'er the sea to France:
Let him bark there.

Then Shaw's and D'rymple's eloquence,
M'Gill's close nervous excellence,
M'Quhae's pathetic manly sense,
And guid M'Math,

halter

Wi' Smith, wha through the heart can glance, May a' pack aff.1

1 In the three last verses, the poet glances satirically at the demands made by the Old-Light party to obtain for congregations the right of choosing their own ministers, as opposite to the plan of their appointment by patrons, which had been reigning for several ages. The anti-patronage cause was almost identified with that of the Old Light, and for this reason Burns had no sympathies with it.

TO WILLIAM S[IMPSON],

OCHILTREE.

The poet tells us that the Twa Herds was the first of his poetic offspring which saw the light. The date of this event appears to be April 1785, the era of the letters to Lapraik, and probably very little after that of Hornbook. One Patrick Simpson carried a copy of the poem to his home in Ochiltree parish, a few miles south of Mauchline. By Patrick it was communicated to his brother, William Simpson, the parish schoolmaster, — and a rhymer, who was immediately prompted to address a versified epistle to Burns, having probably heard the satire attributed to him. This was quickly answered by Burns in a beautiful poem, expressive of his intense love of nature and of country; to which, moreover, was appended a clever allegorical description of the heresy which he had adopted. In the expression, ' Our herds,' and the whole strain of this allegory, the reader will now see a connection of circumstances leading on from the Holy Tulzie, and confirming the present narration.

I GAT your letter, winsome Willie ;

May, 1785.

Wi' gratefu' heart I thank you brawly; heartily Though I maun say't, I wad be silly,

And unco vain,

Should I believe, my coaxin' billie,

Your flatterin' strain.

fellow

But I'se believe ye kindly meant it,
I sud be laith to think ye hinted
Ironic satire, sidelins sklented

On my poor Musie;

Though in sic phrasin' terms ye've

penned it,

I scarce excuse ye.

My senses wad be in a creel,1
Should I but dare a hope to speel
Wi' Allan or wi' Gilbertfield,3

The braes o' fame;

Or Fergusson, the writer chiel,

A deathless name.

obliquely directed

cajoling

(Oh, Fergusson! thy glorious parts Ill suited law's dry musty arts!

basket

climb

lad

My curse upon your whunstane hearts, whinstone
Ye E'nbrugh gentry;

The tithe o' what ye waste at cartes
Wad stowed his pantry!)

Yet when a tale comes i' my head,
Or lasses gie my heart a screed,
As whiles they're like to be my dead,

rent

1 In Scotland, when a person is much exalted and mysti

fied about anything, he is said to be in a creel.

2 Allan Ramsay.

8 William Hamilton of Gilbertfield, a Scottish poet contemporary with Ramsay.

(Oh sad disease!)

I kittle up my rustic reed;

It gies me ease.

Auld Coila now may fidge fu' fain,

She's gotten poets o' her ain,

finger

hug herself

Chiels wha their chanters winna hain, pipes-spare But tune their lays,

Till echoes a' resound again

Her weel-sung praise.

Nae poet thought her worth his while,
To set her name in measured style;
She lay like some unkenn'd-of isle
Beside New Holland,

Or whare wild-meeting oceans boil
Besouth Magellan.

Ramsay and famous Fergusson
Gied Forth and Tay a lift aboon;
Yarrow and Tweed, to monie a tune,
Owre Scotland rings;

While Irwin, Lugar, Ayr, and Doon,
Naebody sings.

Th' Illissus, Tiber, Thames, and Seine,
Glide sweet in monie a tunefu' line;

1 The district of Kyle, personified under the appellation of Coila. Burns afterwards assumed Coila as the name of his Muse.