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address to Edinburgh.
With awe-struck thought, and pitying tears,
I view that noble, stately dome, Where Seotia's kings of other years,
Famed heroes! had their royal home : Alas ! how changed the times to come!
Their royal name low in the dust! Their hapless race wild-wandering roam !
Though rigid law cries out, 'Twas just.
Wild beats my heart to trace your steps,
Whose ancestors, in days of yore, Through hostile ranks and ruin'd gaps
Old Scoția's bloody lion bore: Even I who sing in rustic lore,
Haply, my sires have left their shed, And faced grim Danger's loudest roar,
Bold-following where your fathers led !
Edina! Scotia's darling seat!
All hail thy palaces and towers, Where once beneath a monarch's feet
Sat Legislation's sovereign powers ! From marking wildly-scatter'd flowers,
As on the banks of Ayr I stray'd, And singing, lone, the lingering hours,
I shelter in thy honour'd shade.
The Brigs of dyr.
INSCRIBED TO JOHN BALLANTYVE, ESQ., AYR.
The simple bard, rough at the rustic plough,
The Brigs of a yr.
When Ballantyne befriends his humble name,
'Twas when the stacks get on their winter-hap, And thack and rape secure the toil-won crap; Potato-bings are snuggèd up frae skaith O' coming Winter's biting, frosty breath ;
The bees, rejoicing o'er their summer toils,