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Sent to a Gentlemun whom he bad offended.
THE friend whom wild from wisdom's way,
The fumes of wine infuriate send; (Not moony madness more astray)
Who but deplores that hapless friend?
Mine was th' insensate frenzied part,
Ah why should I such scenes outlive! Scenes so abhorrent to my heart !
'Tis thine to pity and forgive.
POEM ON LIFE,
Addressed to Colonel De Peyster, Dumfries, 1796.
MY honored colonel, deep I feel
The steep Parnassus,
And potion glasses.
O what a canty warld were it,
As they deserve :
Syne wha would starve ?)
Dame life, tho' fiction out may trick her,
I've found her still,
'Tween good and ill.
Then that curst carmagnole auld Satan,
· Wi' felon ire;
. He's off like fire,
Ah ! Nick, ah Nick it is na fair,
- To put us daft; Syne weave, unseen, thy spider snare
O'hell's damned waft.
Poor man the flie, aft bizzes bye,
And hellish pleasure ;
Soon heels o'er gowdie! in he gangs,
And murdering wrestle,
A gibbet's tassel.
But lest you think I am uncivil,
| I quat my pen: The Lord preserve us frae the devil!
My curse upon your venom'd stang,
That shoots my tortur'd gums alang ;
Wi' gnawing vengeance ;
Like racking engines !
When fevers burn, or ague freezes,
Wi' pitying moan ;
Ay mocks our groan!
Adown my beard the slavers trickle !
To see me loup ;
Were in their doup. VOL. IV.