POEM ON PASTORAL POETRY. HAIL Poesie! thou Nymph reserv'd! And och o'er aft thy joes hae starv'd, Say, Lassie, why thy train amang, To death or marriage; Scarce ane has tried the shepherd-sang But wi' miscarriage? In In Homer's craft Jock Milton thrives; In thy sweet sang, Barbauld, survives But thee, Theopocritus, wha matches? In this braw age o' wit and lear, Blaw sweetly in its native air And rural grace; And wi' the far-fam'd Grecian share Yes! there is ane; a Scottish callan! A chiel sae clever; The teeth o' time may gnaw Tamtallan, But thou's for ever. Thou Thou paints auld nature to the nines, Nae gowden stream thro' myrtles twines, While nightly breezes sweep the vines, In gowany glens thy burnie strays, Where blackbirds join the shepherd's lays Thy rural loves are nature's sel; That charm, that can the strongest quell, ON THE BATTLE OF SHERIFF-MUIR, Between the Duke of Argyle and the Earl of Mar. "O CAM ye here the fight to shun, The red-coat lads wi' black cockades The The great Argyle led on his files, They hack'd and hash'd, while broad swords clash'd, But had you seen the philibegs, And skyrin tartan trews, man, And covenant true blues, man; In lines extended lang and large, "O how deil Tam can that be true? "The horsemen back to Forth, man; "And at Dunblane in my ain sight, They took the brig wi' a' their might, "And straught to Stirling winged their flight; But, cursed lot! the gates were shut; "And mony a huntit, poor red-coat "For fear amaist did swarf, man." My |