Nae hair-brain'd sentimental traces

In your

unletter'd, nameless faces!

In arioso trills and graces

Ye never stray,!

But gravissimo, solemn basses

Ye hum away.

Ye are sae grave, nae doubt ye're wise, Nae ferly tho' ye do despise

The hairum-scairum, ram-stam boys,
The rattlin squad:

I see you upward cast your eyes

Ye ken the road.

Whilst I--but I shall haud me there

Wi' I'll scarce gang ony where

you

Then, Jamie, I shall say nae mair,

But quat my sang,

Content wi' you, to mak a pair,

Whare'er I gang.

A DREA M.

Thoughts, words, and deeds, the statute blames with reason ; But surely dreams were ne'er indicted treason.

[On reading, in the public papers, the Laureat's Ode, with the other parade of June 4, 1786, the author was no sooner dropt asleep, than he imagined himself transported to the birthday levee; and in his dreaming fancy, made the following Address.]

I.

GUID-MORNIN to your Majesty!
May Heav'n augment your blisses,
On ev'ry new birth-day ye see,
A humble poet wishes!

My bardship here, at your levee,
On sic a day as this is,

Is sure an uncouth sight to see,
Amang the birth-day-dresses

Sae fine this day.

II.

I see ye're complimented thrang,

By mony a lord and lady,

'God save the king !''s a cuckoo sang

That's unco easy said ay;

The poets, too, a venal gang,

Wi' rhymes weel-turn'd and ready,

Wad gar you trow ye ne'er do wrang,

But ay unerring steady,

On sic a day.

HI.

For me! before a monarch's face,
Ev'n there I winna flatter;
For neither pension, post, nor place,
Am I your humble debtor :
So, nae reflection on your grace,
Your kingship to bespatter;
There's monie waur been o' the race,

And aiblins ane been better

Than you this day.

IV.

'Tis very true, my sovereign king,
My skill may weel be doubted:
But facts are chiels that winna ding
An' downa be disputed:

Your royal nest, beneath your wing,
Is e'en right reft an' clouted,
And now the third part of the string,
An' less, will gang about it

Than did ae day.

V.

Far be't frae me that I aspire
To blame your legislation,
Or say, ye wisdom want, or fire,
To rule this mighty nation!

But, faith! I muckle doubt, my Sire,
Ye've trusted ministration

To chaps, wha in a barn or byre

Wad better fill their station

Than courts yon day."

VI.

And now ye've gien auld Britain peace,
Her broken shins to plaster;
Your sair taxation does her fleece,

Till she has scarce a tester;
For me, thank God, my life's a lease,
Nae bargain wearing faster,

Or, faith! I fear, that wi' the geese,

I shortly boost to pasture

I' the craft some day.

VII.

I'm no mistrusting Willie Pitt,

When taxes he enlarges,

(An' Will's a true guid fallow's get,

A name not envy spairges)
That he intends to pay your debt,
An' lessen a' your charges;
But, Godsake! let nae saving fit
Abridge your bonnie barges

An' boats this day.

VIII.

Adieu, my Liege! may Freedom geck

Beneath your high protection;

And may ye rax Corruption's neck,
And gie her for dissection!

But since I'm here, I'll no neglect
In loyal, true affection,

To pay your Queen, with due respect,.

My fealty an' subjection

This great birth-day.

IX..

Hail Majesty, Most Excellent!

While nobles strive to please ye,

Will ye accept a compliment

A simple poet gies ye?

Thae bonnie bairn time, Heav'n has lent,
Still higher may they heeze ye
In bliss, till fate some day is sent,

For ever to release ye

Frae care thst day..

X.

For you, young potentate o' W

I tell your Highness fairly,

Down Pleasure's stream, wi' swelling sails,

I'm tauld ye're driving rarely;

But some day ye may gnaw your nails,
An' curse your folly sairly,

That e'er ye brak Diana's pales,

Or rattl'd dice wi' Charlie,

By night or day.

XI.

Yet aft a ragged cowte's been known

To mak a noble aiver;