Yet aft a ragged cowte's been known
To make a noble aiver;
So ye may doucely fill a throne,
For a' their clishmaclaver:
There, him at Agincourt wha shone,
Few better were or braver ;
And yet, wi' funny, queer Sir John,t
He was an unco shaver

For monie a day.
XII.

For you, right reverend O*******, Nane sets the lawn-sleeve sweeter, Although a riband at your lug

Wad been a dress completer: As ye disown yon paughty dog

That bears the keys of Peter, Then, swith! an' get a wife to hug, Or, trouth! ye'll stain the mitre Some luckless day.

King Henry V.

+ Sir John Falstaff: vide Shakspeare.

Ye, lastly, bonnie blossoms a',

Ye royal lasses dainty,

Heaven make you guid as weel as braw,

An' gie you lads a-plenty :

But sneer nae British boys awa',
For kings are unco scant aye;
An' German gentles are but sma',
They're better just than want aye,
On onie day.

XV.

God bless you a"! consider now,
Ye're unco muckle dautet ;
But, ere the course o' life be through,
It may be bitter sautet:

An' I hae seen their coggie fou,

That yet hae tarrow't at it; But or the day was done, I trow, The laggen they hae clautet

Fu' clean that day.

THE VISION.

DUAN FIRST.†

THE sun had closed the winter day, The curlers quat their roaring play, An' hunger'd maukin ta'en her way To kail-yards green, While faithless snaws ilk step betray Whare she has been.

The thresher's weary flingin-tree,
The lee-lang day had tired me;
And when the day had closed his e'e,
Far i' the west,

Ben i' the spence, right pensivelie,
I gaed to rest.

There, lanely, by the ingle cheek,

I sat and eyed the spewing reek,
That fill'd, wi' hoast-provoking smeek,
The auld clay biggin;

An' heard the restless rattons squeak
About the riggin.

Alluding to the newspaper account of a certain roya! sailor's amour.

+ Duan, a term of Ossian's for the different divisions of a digressive poem. See his Cath-Loda, vol. ii. ef M'Pherson's translation.

All in this mottie, misty clime, I backward mused on wasted time, How I had spent my youthfu' time, And done naething, But stringin blethers up in rhyme, For fools to sing.

Had I to guid advice but harkit,
I might, by this, hae led a market,
Or strutted in a bank an' clarkit
My cash account:

While here, half mad, half fed, half sarkit,
Is a' th' amount.

I started, muttering, blockhead! coof! And heaved on high my waukit loof, To swear by a' yon starry roof,

Or some rash aith,

That I, henceforth, would be rhyme-proof

Till my last breath

When click! the strink the snick did draw;

And jee! the door gaed to the wa';

An' by my ingle-lowe I saw,

Now bleezin bright,

A tight, outlandish hizzie, braw,

Come full in sight.

Ye need na doubt, I held my whisht; The infant aith, half-form'd, was crusht; I glowr'd as eerie's I'd been dusht

In some wild glen;

When sweet, like modest worth, she blusht,
And stepped ben.

Green, slender, leaf-clad holly-boughs
Were twisted, gracefu', round her brows;
I took her for some Scottish muse,

By that same token;
An' come to stop those reckless vows,
Wou'd soon been broken.

A "hair-brain'd, sentimental trace,"
Was strongly marked in her face;
A wildly-witty, rustic grace

Shone full upon her;

Her eye, e'en turn'd on empty space,

Beam'd keen with honour.

Down flow'd her robe, a tartan sheen; Till half a leg was scrimply seen;

And such a leg! my bonnie Jean

Could only peer it;

Sae straught, sae taper, tight, and clean, Nane else came near it.

Her mantle large, of greenish hue,

My gazing wonder chiefly drew;
Deep lights and shades, bold-mingling threw,
A lustre grand;

And seem'd, to my astonish'd view,
A well known land.

Here, rivers in the sea were lost; There, mountains to the skies were tost: Here, tumbling billows mark'd the coast, With surging foam; There, distant shone art's lofty boast, The lordly dome.

The Wallaces.

+ William Wallace. + Adam Wallace, of Richardton, cousin to the immortal preserver of Scottish independence.

§ Wallace, Laird of Craigie, who was second in com mand, under Douglas Earl of Ormond, at the famous battle on the banks of Sark, fought anno 1418. That glorious victory was principally owing to the judicious conduct, and intrepid valour of the gallant Laird of Craigie, who died of his wounds after the action.

Coilus, King of the Picts, from whom the district of Kyle is said to take its name, lies buried, as tradition says, near the family-seat of the Montgomeries of Coil'sfield, where his burial-place is still shown.

Barskimming the seat of the Lord Justice Clerk. ** Catrine, the seat of the late Doctor and present Professor Stewart.