The Book-Worms
Through and throughth' inspir'd leaves, Ye maggots, make your windings; ButO respect his lordship's taste, And spare his golden bindings.
The Bonie Moor-Hen
The heather was blooming, the meadows were mawn, Our lads gaeda-hunting aeday at the dawn, O'er moors and o'er mosses and mony a glen, At length they discover'd a bonie moor-hen. Chorus.-I rede you, beware at the hunting, young men, I rede you, beware at the hunting, young men; Take some on the wing, and
Mr. William Smellie -A Sketch
Shrewd Willie Smellie to Crochallan came; The old cock'd hat, the grey surtout the same; His bristling beard just rising in its might, 'Twas four long nights and days to shaving night: His uncomb'd grizzly locks, wild staring, thatch'd A head for thought profound and clear, unmatch'd; Yet tho' his caustic wit was biting-rude, His
On The Death Of Robert Dundas, Esq., Of Arniston
Lone on the bleaky hills the straying flocks Shun the fierce storms among the sheltering rocks; Down from the rivulets, redwith dashing rains, The gathering floods burst o'er the distant plains; Beneath the blast the leafless forests groan; The hollow caves return a hollow moan. Ye hills, ye plains, ye forests, and ye caves, Ye
The Bonie Lass Of Albany^1
My heart is wae, and uncowae, To think upon the raging sea, That roars between her gardens green An' the bonie Lass of Albany. This lovely maid's of royal blood That ruled Albion's kingdoms three, But oh, alas! for her bonieface, They've wrang'd the Lass of Albany. In the rolling tide of spreading Clyde There
The Birks Of Aberfeldy
Chorus.-Bonie lassie, will ye go, Will ye go, will ye go, Bonie lassie, will ye go To the birks of Aberfeldy! Now Simmerblinks on flowery braes, And o'er the crystal streamlets plays; Come let us spend the lightsome days, In the birks of Aberfeldy. Bonie lassie, &c. While o'er their heads the hazels hing, The
The Bard At Inverary
Whoe'er he be that sojourns here, I pity much his case, Unless he comes to wait upon The Lord their God, His Grace. There's naethinghere butHighland pride, And Highland scab and hunger: If Providence has sent me here, 'Twas surely in his anger.
Sylvander To Clarinda^1
When dear Clarinda, matchless fair, First struck Sylvander's raptur'd view, He gaz'd, he listened to despair, Alas! 'twas all he dared to do. Love, from Clarinda's heavenly eyes, Transfixed his bosom thro' and thro'; But still in Friendships' guarded guise, For more the demon fear'd to do. That heart, already more than lost, The imp
Strathallan’s Lament^1
Thickest night, o'erhang my dwelling! Howling tempests, o'er me rave! Turbid torrents, wintry swelling, Roaring by my lonely cave! Crystal streamlets gently flowing, Busy haunts of base mankind, Western breezes softly blowing, Suit not my distracted mind. In the cause of Right engaged, Wrongs injurious to redress, Honour's war we strongly waged, But the Heavens