An' bodies drank his skill'd oration, Pray let me fin' your pulse's motion; We'se try what Physic's power can do.” Or Glauber's salts, or purge o' jalap, He had his faes,-an' wha's without them? Some said, that thro' a searit conscience, He liv'd by speakin' lies an' nonsense, An' that his essence maist revivin', SONG. THO' GALLIA HER ENSIGN, &c. THO' Gallia her Ensign of war has unfurl'd O'er Britain's stern features induce but a smile. While the life blood of valour each patriot warms, Our en'mies in vain ev'ry threat may employ, The league of a Million of Freemen in arms, What power shall dissolve, what aggression destroy? As a rock in the ocean, that rears its huge form, Unshaken the billowy surge can sustain, As Albion's white cliffs, that have long bay'd the storm, And dash'd back the sprayas it rose from the main: The sons of our Island shall thus brave their foes, Our Soldiers on shore, and our Tars on the sea; Wild War in its front has no terrors for those, Who know how to die, when they cannot be free. EPISTLE To MR. J**** K******. THE lines that ye sent o'er the lawn, Down on a chair your friend did sit, Right blyth, nae doubt, to view them, Nor stap'd till ance frae head to fit, He glowr'd completely thro' them, ず Wi' joy, that day. Nae chield in a' the crambo tribe,' Sic pleasure e'er coud lend me; As ye afford, without a gybe, Or waur, this day. Right keen some Highlan' hills to speel, Wha liv'd ayont Loch Lomon'. As we had nought but wearin' graith, But war wi' rain maist drown'd to death, Fu' side, that day. Gay Lomon', by thy verdant mound, How sweet it is to rove; Whan flowers are bloomin' a' around,. An' Nature woos to love! Here Echo's voice shall aft be heard, Repeat the notes o' Leven's Bard, An' tell the milk maid's sang, Sae sweet, ilk day. O Leven's Bard! thy honour'd name To me shall still be dear; Nor let this little help to Fame, Be reckon'd insincere. Tho' on fair Latium's distant shore, Thy head in death be laid, |