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The artisan;

All choose, as various they're inclin❜d,

The various man.

When yellow waves the heavy grain,
The threat'ning storm some strongly rein;
Some teach to meliorate the plain

With tillage skill; And some instruct the shepherd-train,

Blythe o'er the hill.

Some hint the lover's harmless wile; Some grace the maiden's artless smile; Some soothe the weary labourer's toil

For humble gains,

And make his cottage-scenes beguile

His cares and pains.

Some, hounded to a district space, Explore at large man's infant race, To mark the embryotic trace

Of rustic bard;

And careful note each op'ning grace,

A guide and guard.

"Of these am I-Coila my name;
And this district as mine I claim,
Where once the Campbells, chiefs of fame,

Held ruling pow'r:

I mark'd thy embryo tuneful flame,

Thy natal hour.

With future hope, I oft would gaze, Fond, on thy little early ways,

Thy rudely caroll'd chiming phrase

In uncouth rhymes,

Fir'd at the simple artless lays

Of other times.

'I saw thee seek the sounding shore,
Delighted with the dashing roar;
Or when the north his fleecy store

Drove thro' the sky,

I saw grim nature's visage hoar

Struck thy young eye.

'Or when the deep-green mantl'd earth Warm cherish'd ev'ry flow'ret's birth, And joy and music pouring forth

In ev'ry grove,

1 saw thee eye the gen'ral mirth

With boundless love.

"When ripen'd fields, and azure skies, Call'd forth the reaper's rustling noise, 1 saw thee leave their evening joys,

And lonely stalk,

To vent thy bosom's swelling rise

In pensive walk.

"When youthful love, warm-blushing, strong, Keen-shiv'ring shot thy nerves along, Those accents, grateful to thy tongue,

Th' adored Name,

I taught thee how to pour in song,

To sooth thy flame.

I saw thy pulse's madd'ning play Wild send thee pleasure's devious way, Misled by fancy's meteor-ray,

By passion driv❜n ;

But yet the light that led astray

Was light from heav'n!

1 taught thy manners-painting strains The loves, the ways of simple swains, Till now, o'er all my wide domains

Thy fame extends;

And some, the pride of Coila's plains,

Become thy friends.

Thou canst not learn, nor can I show, To paint with Thomson's landscape-glow; Or wake the bosom-melting throe,

With Shenstone's art;

Or pour, with Gray, the moving flow

Warm on the heart.

'Yet all beneath th' unrivall'd rose,
The lowly daisy sweetly blows;
Tho' large the forest's monarch throws

His army shade,

Yet green the juicy hawthorn grows

Adown the glade.

Then, never murmur, nor repine; Strive in thy humble sphere to shine; And trust me, not Potosi's mine,

Nor king's regard,

Can give a bliss o'ermatching thine,

A rustic bard.

To give my counsels all in one, Thy tuneful flame still careful fan; Preserve the dignity of man,

With soul erect;

And trust the Universal Plan

Will all protect.

And wear thou this,'-she solemn said, And bound the holly round my head; The polish'd leaves, and berries red,

Did rustling play;

And, like a passing thought, she fled

In light away.

ADDRESS TO THE UNCO GUID,

OR THE RIGIDLY RIGHTEOUS.

My son, these maxims make a rule,

And lump them ay thegither;

The rigid righteous is a fool,

The rigid wise anither;

The cleanest corn that e'er was dight,
May hae some pyles o' chaff in;
So ne'er a fellow-creature slight

For random fits o' daffin.

SOLOMON.-Eccles. ch. vii. ver. 16

OYE wha are sae guid yoursel,

Sae pious and sae holy,

Ye've nought to do but mark and tell
Your neebour's fauts and folly!

Whase life is like a well-gaun mill,
Supply'd wi' store o' water,
The heapet happer's ebbing still,
An still the clap plays clatter.
Hear me, ye venerable core,
As counsel for poor mortals,
That frequent pass douce wisdom's door
For glaikit folly's portals;

I, for their thoughtless careless sakes,
Would here propone defences,
Their donsie tricks, their black mistakes,
Their failings and mischances.

Ye see your state wi' theirs compar'd,
And shudder at the niffer,

But cast a moment's fair regard,
What maks the mighty differ?
Discount what scant occasion gave,
That purity ye pride in,

And (what's aft mair than a' the lave)
Your better art o' hiding.

Think, when your castigated pulse
Gies now and then a wallop,
What ragings must his veins convulse,
That still eternal gallop.
Wi' wind and tide far i' your tail,
Right on ye scud your sea-way;
But in the teeth o' baith to sail,
It makes an unco lee-way.

See social life and glee sit down,
All joyous and unthinking,
Till, quite tran mugrify'd, they're grown
Debauchery aud drinking:

Oh, would they stay to calculate
Th' eternal consequences;

Or your more dreadful hell to state,
D-mnation of expences!

Ye high, exalted, virtuous dames,
Ty'd up in godly laces,

Before ye gie poor frailty names,
Suppose a change o' cases;

A dear-lov'd lad, convenience snug;
A treach'rous inclination-
But let me whisper i' your lug,
Ye're ablins nae temptation.

Then gently scan your brother man,
Still gentler sister woman;
Tho' they may gang a kennin wrang,
To step aside is human:

One point must still be greatly dark,
The moving why they do it:
And just as lamely can ye mark,
How far perhaps they rue it.

Who made the heart, 'tis He alone
Decidedly can try us,

He knows each chord-its various tone,
Each spring-its various bias:

Then at the balance let's be mute,
We never can adjust it;

What's done we partly may compute,
But know not what's resisted.

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HAS auld K******** seen the Deil ?
Or great M'*******+ thrawn his heel?
Or R****** **‡ again grown weel,

POPE.

To preach an' read?

Na waur than a'!' cries ilka chiel,

Tam Samson's dead!'

When this worthy old sportsman went out last muirfowl season, he supposed it was to be, in Ossian's phrase, the last of his fields;' and expresed an ardent wish to die and be buried in the muirs. On this bint the author composed his Elegy and Epitaph.

A certain preacher, a great favourite with the million. Vide the Ordination, stanza ii.

Another preacher, an equal favourite with the few, who was at that time ailing. For him see also the Ordination, stanza ix.

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