Since the excels in ev'ry grace,
In her my love fhall center. Sooner the feas fhall ceafe to flow, Their waves the Alps fhall cover, On Greenland ice fhall rofes grow, Before I cease to love her.
The next time I gang o'er the muir,
She fhall a lover find me ;
And that my faith is firm and pure,
Tho' I left her behind me:
Then Hymen's facred bonds fhall chain
My heart to her fair bofom;
There, while my being does remain,
My love more fresh fhall bloffom.
THE TURNIM SPIKE.
HERSELL pe Highland shentleman,
Pe auld as Pothwel prig, man;
mony alterations seen
Amang te Lawland Whig, man.
First when her to the Lawlands cam',
Nainfell was driving cows, man:
There was nae laws apout him's nerfe,
Apout the preeks or trews, man.
Nainfell did wear the philabeg,
The plaid prick't on her shoulder; The guide claymore hung pe her pelt, The piftol fharg'd wi' powder.
But for whereas thefe curfed preeks,
Wherewith her nerse pe lockit,
O hon! that e'er fhe faw the day!
For a' her houghs pe prokit.
Every t'ing in te Highlands now
Pe turn't to alteration;
The fodger dwall at our toor fheek,
And tat's te great vexation.
Scotland be turn't a Ningland now,
An' laws pring on te cadger:
Nainfell wad durk her for her deeds,
But oh fhe fears te fodger.
Anither law cam' after that,
Me never faw te like, man: They mak' a lang road on te crund, And ca' him Turnimfpike, man.
An' wow the pe a ponny road,
Like Louden corn rigs, man;
Where twa carts may gang on her,
An' no preak ithers legs, man.
They fharge a penny for ilka horse,
In troth fhe'll no pe fheaper,
For nought put ga'n upo' the crund,
And they gie me a paper.
They tak' te horse t'en py te head,
And t'ere they mak' him ftand,
I tell'd them that I feen te day
He had nae fic command, man.
Nae dou'ts Nainfell maun tra her purfe,
And pay them what hims like, man;
I'll fee a fhugement on his toor,
T'at filthy Turnimfpike, man.
But I'll awa to te Highland hills,
Where t'eil a ane dare turn her,
And no come near her Turnimfpike,
Unless it pe to purn her.
KATHARINE OGIE.
AS walking forth to view the plain,
Upon a morning early,
While May's fweet fcent did ehear my brain, From flow'rs which grew fo rarely:
I chanc'd to meet a pretty maid,
She fhin'd though it was foggy;
I afk'd her name; Sweet Sir, fhe faid,
My name is Katharine Ogie.
I stood a while, and did admire,
To fee a nymph so stately;
So brifk an air there did appear,
In a country-maid fo neatly:
Such natʼral sweetness fhe display'd,
Like a lilie in a boggie;
Diana's felf was ne'er array'd
Like this fame Katharine Ogie.
Thou flow'r of females, Beauty's queen,
Who fees thee, fure muft prize thee;
Though thou art dreft in robes but mean,
Yet these cannot disguise thee;
Thy handfome air and graceful look,
Far excells any clownish rogie;
Thou'rt match for laird, or lord, or duke,
My charming Katharine Ogie.
O were I but a fhepherd swain!
To feed my flock befide thee,
At boughting time to leave the plain,
In milking to abide thee;
I'd think myself a happier man,
With Kate, my club, and dogie, Than he that hugs his thousands ten, Had I but Katharine Ogie.
Then I'd defpife th' imperial throne,
And ftatefmen's dangerous ftations;
I'd be no king, I'd wear no crown,
I'd fmile at conqu'ring nations:
Might I caress and ftill poffefs
This lafs of whom I'm vogie;
For these are toys, and ftill look lefs,
Compar'd with Katharine Ogie.
But I fear the gods have not decreed
For me fo fine a creature,
Whofe beauty rare makes her exceed
All other works in nature.
Clouds of defpair furround my love,
That are both dark and foggy:
Pity my cafe, ye pow'rs above,
Elfe I die for Katharine Ogie.
Sung in the SUMMER AMUSEMENT.
THE Wand'ring Sailor ploughs the main,
A competence in life to gain;
Undaunted braves the ftormy feas,
To find at laft content and ease:
In hopes when toil and dangers c'er,
To anchor on his native fhore.
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