Lord, mind Cawn Hamilton’s deserts,
He drinks, and swears, and plays at cartes[224],
Yet has sae mony takin’ arts,
Wi’ grit an’ sma’[225],
Frae God’s ain priests the people’s hearts
He steals awa’.

And whan we chasten’d him therefore,
Thou kens how he bred sic a splore[226],
As set the warld in a roar
O’ laughin’ at us,—­
Curse Thou his basket and his store,
Kail and potatoes.

Lord, hear my earnest cry and pray’r
Against the Presbyt’ry of Ayr;
Thy strong right hand, Lord, mak’ it bare
Upo’ their heads,
Lord, weigh it down, and dinna spare,
For their misdeeds.

Oh Lord my God, that glib-tongu’d Aiken,
My very heart and saul are quakin’,
To think how we stood groanin’, shakin’,
And swat wi’ dread,
While he wi’ hingin’ lips and snakin’,
Held up his head.

Lord, in the day of vengeance try him,
Lord, visit them wha did employ him,
And pass not in thy mercy by ’em,
Nor hear their pray’r;
But for thy people’s sake destroy ’em,
And dinna spare,

But, Lord, remember me and mine,
Wi’ mercies temp’ral and divine,
That I for gear[227] and grace may shine,
Excell’d by nane,
And a’ the glory shall be thine,
Amen, amen!

EPITAPH ON HOLY WILLIE.

Here Holy Willie’s sair-worn clay
Tak’s up its last abode;
His saul has ta’en some ither way,
I fear the left-hand road.

  Stop! there he is, as sure’s a gun,
    Poor, silly body, see him;
  Nae wonder he’s as black’s the grun’,
    Observe wha’s standing wi’ him.

  Your brunstane[228] devilship, I see,
    Has got him there before ye;
  But haud your nine-tail cat a wee,
    Till ance you’ve heard my story.

  Your pity I will not implore,
    For pity ye ha’e nane;
  Justice, alas! has gi’en him o’er,
    And mercy’s day is gane.

  But hear me, sir, de’il as ye are,
    Look something to your credit;
  A coof[229] like him wad stain your name,
    If it were kent ye did it.

[Footnote 223:  troubled.]

[Footnote 224:  cards.]

[Footnote 225:  great and small.]

[Footnote 226:  row.]

[Footnote 227:  wealth.]

[Footnote 228:  brimstone.]

[Footnote 229:  fool.]

CHARLES LAMB.

(1775-1835.)

XLVIII.  A FAREWELL TO TOBACCO.

Published originally in 1811 in The Reflector, No. 4.  As Lamb himself states, it was meditated for two years before it was committed to paper in 1805, but not published until six years afterwards.

  May the Babylonish curse
  Straight confound my stammering verse,
  If I can a passage see
  In this word-perplexity,
  Or a fit expression find,