For Freedom, standing by the tree, Which pleased them ane and a', man. The warld would live in peace, man; The sword would help to mak a plough, The din o' war wad cease, man. Like brethren in a common cause, We'd on each other smile, man; And equal rights and equal laws Wad gladden every isle, man. Wae worth the loon wha wadna eat Sic halesome dainty cheer, man; I'd gie my shoon frae aff my feet. To taste sic fruit, I swear, man. Syne let us pray, auld England may ON THE DEATH OF THE POET'S These tender and affecting lines were written, it is said, on the death of his child in 1795. On sweet be thy sleep in the land of the grave, For ever-oh no! let not man be a slave, Though cold be the clay where thou pillow'st thy head, In the dark silent mansions of sorrow, The spring shall return to thy low narrow bed, Like the beam of the day-star to-morrow. The flower-stem shall bloom like thy sweet seraph form, Ere the spoiler had nipt thee in blossom, When thou shrunk frae the scowl of the loud winter storm, And nestled thee close to that bosom. Oh still I behold thee, all lovely in death, When the tear trickled bright, when the short stifled breath, Told how dear ye were aye to each other. My child, thou art gone to the home of thy rest, Where suffering no longer can harm ye, Where the songs of the good, where the hymns of the blest, Through an endless existence shall charm thee. While he, thy fond parent, must sighing sojourn, ON THE SAME. HERE lies a rose, a budding rose, Whose innocence did sweets disclose She's from a world of woe relieved, VERSES ON THE DESTRUCTION OF THE The duke of Queensberry stripped his domains of Drumlanrig in Dumfriesshire, and Neidpath in Peeblesshire, of all the wood fit for being cut, in order to enrich the countess of Yarmouth, whom he supposed to be his daughter, and to whom, by a singular piece of good fortune on her part, Mr. George Selwyn. the celebrated wit, also left a fortune, under the same, and probably equally mistaken impression.'-Chambers. As on the banks o' wandering Nith, And drank my fill o' fancy's dream, 'And came ye here, my son,' he cried, 'To wander in my birken shade? To muse some favourite Scottish theme, Or sing some favourite Scottish maid? There was a time, it's nae lang syne, Ye might hae seen me in my pride, When a' my banks sae bravely saw Their woody pictures in my tide; When hanging beech and spreading elm Shaded my stream sae clear and cool; And stately oaks their twisted arms Threw broad and dark across the pool : 'When glinting, through the trees, appear'd The wee white cot aboon the mill, And peacefu' rose its ingle reek, That slowly curled up the hill. But now the cot is bare and cauld, Its branchy shelter's lost and gane, And scarce a stinted birk is left To shiver in the blast its lane.' 'Alas!' said I, 'what ruefu' chance Has twin'd ye o' your stately trees? Has laid your rocky bosom bare? Has stripp'd the cleeding o' your braes? Was it the bitter eastern blast, That scatters blight in early spring? Or was't the wil'fire scorch'd their boughs, Or canker-worm wi' secret sting?' 'Nae eastlin blast,' the sprite replied; 'It blew na here sae fierce and fell, And on my dry and halesome banks Nae canker-worms get leave to dwell: Man! cruel man!' the Genius sigh'dAs through the cliffs he sank him down'The worm that gnaw'd my bonnie trees, That reptile wears a ducal crown.' THE BOOK-WORMS. Written in a splendidly bound, but worm-eaten, copy of Shakspeare, the property of a nobleman. THROUGH and through the inspired leaves, Ye maggots, make your windings; LINES ON STIRLING. Written on a pane of glass, on visiting this ancient seat of HERE Stuarts once in glory reign'd, A race outlandish fills their throne. THE REPROOF. The lines on Stirling were considered imprudent by one of the Poet's friends, when he immediately wrote the "Reproof' underneath. RASH mortal, and slanderous Poet, thy name Shall no longer appear in the records of fame; Dost not know that old Mansfield, who writes like the Bible, Says the more 'tis a truth, Sir, the more 'tis a libel? THE KIRK OF LAMINGTON. As cauld a wind as ever blew, THE LEAGUE AND COVENANT. This was spoken in reply to one who sneered at the sufferings of Scotland for conscience' sake. THE Solemn League and Covenant Cost Scotland blood-cost Scotland tears: If thou'rt a slave, indulge thy sneers |