Epigram
THIS is my letter to …

Ye Politicians, tell me, pray,
Why thus with woe and care rent?
This is the worst that you can say
Some wind has blown the wig away,
And left the hair apparent.

I am his Highness’ dog at Kew;
Pray tell me, sir, whose dog are y

To Griggs, that learned man, in m
His kids were his delight, and phy
Now Griggs, grown old and glum, a
Physics himself at home, and sends

“PRAISE Woman still,” his lords
“Deserv’d or not, no matter?”
But thee, whom all my soul adores,
Ev’n Flattery cannot flatter:
Maria, all my thought and dream,

DEAR '—'—'—, I’ll gie ye some ad
You’ll tak it no uncivil:
You shouldna paint at angels mair,
But try and paint the devil.
To paint an Angel’s kittle wark,

BLESS Jesus Christ, O Cardones
With grateful, lifted eyes,
Who taught that not the soul alone
But body too shall rise;
For had He said “the soul alone

EARTH’D up, here lies an imp o’
Planted by Satan’s dibble;
Poor silly wretch, he’s damned him
To save the Lord the trouble.

HERE cursing, swearing Burton li
A buck, a beau, or “Dem my eyes!”
Who in his life did little good,
And his last words were “Dem my b

HERE lies a mock Marquis, whose
If ever he rise, it will be to be

IN se’enteen hunder’n forty-nine,
The deil gat stuff to mak a swine,
An’ coost it in a corner;
But wilily he chang’d his plan,
An’ shap’d it something like a man

THAT there is a falsehood in his
I must and will deny:
They tell their Master is a knave
And sure they do not lie.

ASK why God made the gem so smal
And why so huge the granite?'—
Because God meant mankind should
That higher value on it.

SWEET naïveté of feature,
Simple, wild, enchanting elf,
Not to thee, but thanks to Nature
Thou art acting but thyself.
Wert thou awkward, stiff, affected

IN Politics if thou would’st mix,
And mean thy fortunes be;
Bear this in mind, be deaf and bli
Let great folk hear and see.

I’M now arrived’—thanks to the go
Thro’ pathways rough and muddy,
A certain sign that makin roads
Is no this people’s study:
Altho’ Im not wi’ Scripture cram’

O DEATH, had’st thou but spar’d
Whom we this day lament,
We freely wad exchanged the wife,
And a’ been weel content.
Ev’n as he is, cauld in his graff,

FAIR maid, you need not take the
Nor idle texts pursue:
'Twas guilty sinners that he meant
Not Angels such as you.

O HAD each Scot of ancient times
Been, Jeanie Scott, as thou art;
The bravest heart on English grou
Had yielded like a coward.

AS cauld a wind as ever blew,
A cauld kirk, an in’t but few:
As cauld a minister’s e’er spak;
Ye’se a’ be het e’er I come back.

WHAT dost thou in that mansion f
Flit, Galloway, and find
Some narrow, dirty, dungeon cave,
The picture of thy mind.
———No Stewart art thou, Galloway,

YE hypocrites! are these your pra
To murder men and give God thanks
Desist, for shame!'—proceed no fur
God won’t accept your thanks for

THOU greybeard, old Wisdom! may
Give me with young Folly to live;
I grant thee thy calm-blooded, tim
But Folly has raptures to give.

OF Lordly acquaintance you boast,
And the Dukes that you dined wi’
Yet an insect’s an insect at most,
Tho’ it crawl on the curl of a Qu

YE true “Loyal Natives” attend t
In uproar and riot rejoice the nig
From Envy and Hatred your corps i
But where is your shield from the

O THOU whom Poetry abhors,
Whom Prose has turnèd out of doo
Heard’st thou yon groan?'—proceed
'Twas laurel’d Martial calling mu

In digging up your bones, Tom Pai
Will. Cobbett has done well:
You visit him on earth again,
He’ll visit you in hell.

This day, of all our days, has don
The worst for me and you:-
'Tis just six years since we were
And five since we were two.

The braziers, it seems, are prepar
An address, and present it themsel
A superfluous pageant-for, by the
They’ll find where they’re going m

If, for silver or for gold,
You could melt ten thousand pimple
Into half a dozen dimples,
Then your face we might behold,
Looking, doubtless, much more snug

The world is a bundle of hay,
Mankind are the asses who pull;
Each tugs it a different way,
And the greatest of all is John B

Oh, Castlereagh! thou art a patri
Cato died for his country, so dids
He perish’d rather than see Rome
Thou cutt’ st thy throat that Bri
So Castlereagh has cut his throat

Pay me my price, potters! and I w
Attend, O Pallas! and with lifted
Protect their oven; let the cups a
The sacred vessels black well, and
With good success, yield them both

To purify their wine some people b
A lamb into the barrel, and succee
No nostrum, planters say, is half
To make fine sugar, as a negro’s b
Now lambs and negroes both are har