EPISTLE TO DAVIE, A Brother Poet. Jan. WHILE winds frae aff Ben-Lomond blaw, And hingb us owre the ingle, I grudge a wee the great folks' gift, It's hardly in a body's pow'r To see how things are shared; But Davie, lad, ne'er fash1 your head We're fit to win our daily bread Is only for to beg. To lie in kilns and barns at e'en, When banes are craz'd and bluid is thin, a David Sillar. author of a volume of Poems in the Scottish dialect. d West country. b Hang. c Fire-place. e The fire-side. feed. Trouble. h Best of men. i Blockheads. n More ask not. Yet then content could make us blest : Ev'n then, sometimes, we'd snatch a taste Of truest happiness. The honest heart that's free frae a' Intended fraud or guile, However Fortune kick'd the ba', What tho', like commoners of air, Yet Nature's charms, the hills and woods, In days when daisies deck the ground, With honest joy our hearts will bound, On braes when we please, then, Syne rhyme till 't, we 'll time till't, It's no in titles nor in rank; We may be wise, or rich, or great, 9 Without. Then. To it. r Hum, or whistle. Nae treasures, nor pleasures, That makes us right or wrang. Think ye, that sic as you and I, Think ye, are we less blest than they, Baith careless and fearless Then let us cheerfu' acquiesce; And even should misfortunes come, They make us see the naked truth, The real good and ill. Tho' losses and crosses Be lessons right severe, There 's wit there, ye 'll get there, But tent me, Davie, ace o' hearts! (To say aught less wad wrang the cartes, And flattery I detest), This life has joys for you and I; And joys that riches ne'er could buy ; And joys the very best. Ye hae your Meg, your dearest part, It warms me, it charms me, And sets me a' on flame! All hail, ye tender feelings dear! Long since, this world's thorny ways Fate still has blest me with a friend, And oft a more endearing band, A tie more tender still: It lightens, it brightens To meet with and greet with, 20 Adds fuel to fire. ! O, how that name inspires my style! The ready measure rins as fine, Were glowrin'z o'er my pen. And then he 'll hilch, and stilt, and jimp, But lest then, the beast then TO THE SAME.h AULD NEEBOR, I'm three times doubly o'er your debtor, For my puir, silly, rhymin' clatter, Hale be your heart, hale be your fiddle; Till bairns bairns" kindly cuddle Your auld, gray hairs. But, Davie, lad, I 'm redo ye 're glaikit ;P e Jump. z Looking. c Hobble. f Go speedily. í Sagacious. a Having the Spavin. d Limp, or halt. g Shrunk, hide-bound. h This is prefixed to the poems of David Siliar, published at Kilmarnock, 1789. k Must serve. Elbow. m A'sudden turning, n Children's children. p Inattentive, foolish. • Informed. |