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See, see auld Orthodoxy's faes
She's swingein thro' the city;

Hark, how the nine-tail'd cat she plays!
I vow it's unco pretty!

There, Learning, with his Greekish face,
Grunts out some Latin ditty;

And Common Sense is gaun, she says,

To mak to Jamie Beattie

Her plaint this day.

But there's Morality himsel,

Embracing all opinions;

Hear, how he gies the tither yell,

Between his twa companions;
See, how she peels the skin an' fell,
As ane were peelin onions!

Now there, they're packed aff to hell,
And banish'd our dominions,

Henceforth this day.

O happy day! rejoice, rejoice!
Come bouse about the porter!
Morality's demure decoys7

Shall here nae mair find quarter:
M'Kinlay, Russel are the boys

That Heresy can torture;8 They'll gie her on a rape a hoyse, And cowe her measure shorter

By th' head some day.

Come, bring the tither mutchkin in,
And here's, for a conclusion,

VAR. 7 delusive joys. MS.

8 Will clap him in the torture. MS.

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Το every New Light mother's son,
From this time forth, Confusion :
If mair they deave us with their din,
Or Patronage intrusion,

We'll light a spunk, and, ev'ry skin,
We'll rin them aff in fusion

Like oil, some day.

THE CALF.†

120

TO THE REV. MR. JAMES STEVEN, ON HIS TEXT, MALACHI, CH. IV. VER. 2.

"And ye shall go forth, and grow up, as CALVES of

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the stall."

9IGHT, Sir! your text I'll prove it true,
Tho' Heretics may laugh;

For instance; there's yoursel just now,
God knows, an unco Calf!

* New Light is a cant phrase, in the West of Scotland, for those religious opinions which Dr. Taylor of Norwich has so strenuously defended. R. B.

† Allan Cunningham states that these verses, which were first printed in the second edition, arose from the following circumstance: "Burns and his friend Gavin Hamilton being present when the Rev. James Steven, then a young man, preached from the above text, Hamilton desired the Poet to dine with him on his return from the kirk, and to be sure and remember the text. On sitting down to dinner Burns repeated the verses." In a letter from Burns to Mr. Robert Muir, he says, "Warm recollection of an absent friend presses so hard upon my heart, that I send him the prefixed bagatelle (the Calf), pleased with the thought that it will greet the man of my bosom, and be a kind of distant language of friendship"-"It was," he adds, "nearly an extemporaneous production on a wager with Mr. Hamilton, that I would not produce a poem on the subject in a given

And should some Patron be so kind,
As bless you wi' a kirk,

I doubt na, Sir, but then we'll find.
Ye're still as great a Stirk.

But, if the Lover's raptur'd hour
Shall ever be your lot,

Forbid it, ev'ry heavenly Power,
You e'er should be a Stot!

Tho', when some kind, connubial Dear,
Your But-and-Ben adorns,

The like has been that you may wear
A noble head of horns.

And, in your lug, most reverend James,

To hear you roar and rowte, Few men o' sense will doubt

To rank amang the Nowte.

your claims

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time. If you think it worth while, read it to Charles and W. Parker, and if they choose a copy of it, it is at their service, as they are men whose friendship I shall be proud to claim, both in this world and that which is to come."

Burns' attack upon Mr. Steven as a Calf provoked a retort, in which the assailant seems to have been characterized as a Bullock. Among the Poems of David Sillar are some "Verses occasioned by a reply to Burns' Calf, by an unco Calf," (a copy of which will be found in the Appendix,) with this motto:

"A preachin' Calf-a Poet wearin' cloots-
Are surely ferlies 'mang the nat❜ral brutes."

Sillar censures both parties, but principally Burns.

The appellation of "The Calf" seems to have adhered to the preacher, for in a letter from William Burns, the Poet's younger brother, dated London, 21 March, 1790, he says,

We were at Covent Garden Chapel this forenoon to hear the Calf preach: he is grown very fat, and is as boisterous as ever."

And when ye're number'd wi' the dead,
Below a grassy hillock,

Wi' justice they may mark your head—
'Here lies a famous Bullock!'

ADDRESS TO THE DEIL.*

O Prince! O Chief of many throned Pow'rs,
That led th' embattled Seraphim to war.-
Milton.

THOU! whatever title suit thee,
Auld Hornie, Satan, Nick, or Clootie,
Wha in yon cavern grim an' sootie,
Clos'd under hatches,

Spairges about the brunstane cootie,

To scaud poor wretches!

Hear me, auld Hangie, for a wee,
An' let poor damned bodies be;
I'm sure sma' pleasure it can gie,
Ev'n to a deil,

To skelp an' scaud poor dogs like me,
An' hear us squeel!

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* Gilbert Burns says, "It was, I think, in the winter of 1784, as we were going together with carts for coal to the family fire (and I could yet point out the particular spot), that the author first repeated to me the Address to the Deil.' The curious idea of such an address was suggested to him, by running over in his mind the many ludicrous accounts and representations we have from various quarters of this august personage." In a letter to Mr. Richmond, from Mossgiel, February 17, 1786, Burns included the "Address to the Deil" among the pieces which he had composed since he last saw Richmond. "The Devil's Answer" to this address, by Burns' friend, Lapraik, will be found in the Appendix.

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Great is thy pow'r, an' great thy fame;
Far kend an' noted is thy name;
An' tho' yon lowin heugh's thy hame,
Thou travels far;

An' faith thou's neither lag nor lame,
Nor blate nor scaur.

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Whyles, ranging like a roarin lion,
For prey, a' holes an' corners tryin;
Whyles on the strong-wing'd Tempest flyin,
Tirlin the kirks;

Whyles, in the human bosom pryin,

Unseen thou lurks.

I've heard my reverend Graunie say,
In lanely glens ye like to stray;
Or where auld, ruin'd castles, gray,

Nod to the moon,

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To say her pray'rs, douce, honest woman!
Aft yont the dyke she's heard you bummin,

Wi' eerie drone;

Or, rustlin, thro' the boortries comin,

Wi' heavy groan.

VAR. In The Address to the Deil,' the third stanza, though always printed as in the text, was originally

Lang syne in Eden's happy scene,

When strappin' Adam's days were green

And Eve was like my bonie Jean,

My dearest part,

A dancin' sweet, young, handsome quean,

Wi' guileless heart.

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