#ScottishWriters
My heart is a—breaking, dear Titt… Some counsel unto me come len’; To anger them a’ is a pity, But what will I do wi’ Tam Glen? I’m thinking, wi’ sic a braw fello…
A Song of Similes Tune —‘If he be a Butcher neat an… On Cessnock banks a lassie dwells… Could I describe her shape and me… Our lasses a’ she far excels,
O, WERE I on Parnassus hill, Or had o’ Helicon my fill, That I might catch poetic skill, To sing how dear I love thee! But Nith maun be my Muse’s well,
Guid—Mornin’ to our Majesty! May Heaven augment your blisses On ev’ry new birth—day ye see, A humble poet wishes. My bardship here, at your Levee
LORD ADVOCATEHE clenched hi… He quoted and he hinted, Till, in a declamation-mist, His argument he tint it: He gapèd for’t, he grapèd for’t,
FAREWELL, ye dungeons dark and… The wretch’s destinie! M’Pherson’s time will not be long On yonder gallows-tree. Chorus.'Sae rantingly, sae want…
WITH Pegasus upon a day, Apollo, weary flying, Through frosty hills the journey l… On foot the way was plying. Poor slipshod giddy Pegasus
GRANT me, indulgent Heaven, tha… To see the miscreants feel the pai… Deal Freedom’s sacred treasures f… Till Slave and Despot be but thin…
NO churchman am I for to rail and… No statesman nor soldier to plot o… No sly man of business contriving… For a big-belly’d bottle’s the who… The peer I don’t envy, I give him…
“WHA is that at my bower-door?” “O wha is it but Findlay!” “Then gae your gate, ye’se nae be… “Indeed maun I,” quo’ Findlay; “What mak’ ye, sae like a thief?”
AS on the banks o’ wandering Nith… Ae smiling simmer morn I stray’d, And traced its bonie howes and hau… Where linties sang and lammies pla… I sat me down upon a craig,
Again rejoicing nature sees Her robe assume its vernal hues, Her leafy looks wave in the breeze… All freshly steep’d in morning dew… And maun I still on Menie doat,
MARK yonder pomp of costly fashi… Round the wealthy, titled bride: But when compar’d with real passio… Poor is all that princely pride. Mark yonder, &c. (four lines r…
NOW westlin winds and slaught’rin… Bring Autumn’s pleasant weather; The moorcock springs on whirring w… Amang the blooming heather: Now waving grain, wide o’er the pl…
O HOW shall I, unskilfu’, try The poet’s occupation? The tunefu’ powers, in happy hours… That whisper inspiration; Even they maun dare an effort mair