Still in prayers for King George I most heartily join,
     The Queen, and the rest of the gentry: 
     Be they wise, be they foolish, is nothing of mine;
     Their title’s avow’d by my country.

     But why of that epocha make such a fuss,
     That gave us th’ Electoral stem? 
     If bringing them over was lucky for us,
     I’m sure ’twas as lucky for them.

     But, loyalty, truce! we’re on dangerous ground;
     Who knows how the fashions may alter? 
     The doctrine, to-day, that is loyalty sound,
     To-morrow may bring us a halter!

     I send you a trifle, a head of a bard,
     A trifle scarce worthy your care;
     But accept it, good Sir, as a mark of regard,
     Sincere as a saint’s dying prayer.

     Now life’s chilly evening dim shades on your eye,
     And ushers the long dreary night: 
     But you, like the star that athwart gilds the sky,
     Your course to the latest is bright.

Epigram To Miss Ainslie In Church

      Who was looking up the text during sermon.

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

Burlesque Lament For The Absence Of William Creech, Publisher

     Auld chuckie Reekie’s^1 sair distrest,
     Down droops her ance weel burnish’d crest,
     Nae joy her bonie buskit nest
     Can yield ava,
     Her darling bird that she lo’es best—­
     Willie’s awa!

     O Willie was a witty wight,
     And had o’ things an unco’ sleight,
     Auld Reekie aye he keepit tight,
     And trig an’ braw: 
     But now they’ll busk her like a fright,—­
     Willie’s awa!

     The stiffest o’ them a’ he bow’d,
     The bauldest o’ them a’ he cow’d;
     They durst nae mair than he allow’d,
     That was a law: 
     We’ve lost a birkie weel worth gowd;
     Willie’s awa!

     Now gawkies, tawpies, gowks and fools,
     Frae colleges and boarding schools,
     May sprout like simmer puddock-stools
     In glen or shaw;
     He wha could brush them down to mools—­
     Willie’s awa!

     [Footnote 1:  Edinburgh.]

     The brethren o’ the Commerce-chaumer
     May mourn their loss wi’ doolfu’ clamour;
     He was a dictionar and grammar
     Among them a’;
     I fear they’ll now mak mony a stammer;
     Willie’s awa!

     Nae mair we see his levee door
     Philosophers and poets pour,
     And toothy critics by the score,
     In bloody raw! 
     The adjutant o’ a’ the core—­
     Willie’s awa!

     Now worthy Gregory’s Latin face,
     Tytler’s and Greenfield’s modest grace;
     Mackenzie, Stewart, such a brace
     As Rome ne’er saw;
     They a’ maun meet some ither place,
     Willie’s awa!