AN ECLOGUE.

Sin my auld gutcher first the warld knew,
Fouk had na fund the Indies whare it grew.
I mind mysel, it's nae sae lang sin' syne,
Whan Auntie Marion did her stamack tyne,
That Davs our gard'ner came frae Apple-bog,
An' gae her tea to tak by way o' drog.

SANDIE.

Whan ilka herd for cauld his fingers rubs,
An' cakes o' ice are seen upo' the dubs;

At morning, whan frae pleugh or fauld I come,
I'll see a bra' reek rising frae my lum,
An aiblin's think to get a rantin blaze,

To fley the frost awa', and toast my taes ;
But whan I shoot my nose in,.ten to ane
If I weelfardly see my ane hearthstane;
She round the ingle wi' her gimmers sits,
Crammin their gabbies wi' her nicest bits,
While the gudeman out-by maun fill his crap

Frae the milk coggie, or the parritch cap.

AN ECLOGUE.

WILLIE.

Sandie, gif this were ony common plea,

I shou'd the lealest o' my counsel gie ;
But make or meddle betwixt man an' wife,
Is what I never did in a' my life.

It's wearing on now to the tail o' May,

An' just between the beer-seed and the hay;
As lang's an orra morning may be spar'd,

Stap your wa's east the haugh, an' tell the laird;
For he's a man weel vers'd in a' the laws,
Kens baith their outs and ins, their cracks an' flaws,
An' ay right gleg, whan things are out o' joint,
At sattlin o' a nice or kittle point.

But yonder's. Jock, he'll ca' your owsen hame,
And tak thir tidings to your thrawart dame,
That ye're away ae peacefu' meal to prie,
An' tak your supper kail or sow'ns wi' me.

AN ECLOGUE,

To the Memory of DR. WILLIAM WILKIE, late Professor of Natural Philosophy in the University of St. Andrews.

GEORDIE AND DAVIE.

GEORDIE.

BLAW saft my reed, and kindly, to my maen,
Weel may ye thole a saft and dowie strain.
Nae mair to you shall shepherds, in a ring,
Wi' blithness skip, or lasses lilt and sing;
Sic sorrow now maun sadden ilka e'e;
And ilka waefu' shepherd grieve wi' me.

DAVIE.

Wharefore begin a sad and dowie strain, Or banish liltin frae the Fifan plain?

Tho' Simmer's gane, and we na langer view The blades o' claver wat wi' pearls o' dew; Cauld Winter's bleakest blasts we'll eithly cour, · Our elden's driven, and our hairst is owre;

TO THE MEMORY OF DR. WILLIAM WILKIE.

Our rucks, fu' thick, are stackit i' the yard;
For the Yule-feast a sautit mart's prepar'd;
The ingle-nook supplies the simmer fields,
And aft as mony gleefu' moments yields.
Swith, man! fling a' your sleepy springs awa,
And on your canty whistle gie's a blaw:
Blithness, I trow, maun lighten ilka ee;
And ilka canty callant sing like me.

GEORDIE.

Na, na! a canty spring wad now impart Just threefauld sorrow to my heavy heart. Thof to the weet my ripen'd aits had fa'en, Or shake-winds owre my rigs wi' pith had blawn; To this I could hae said, "I carena by," Nor fund occasion now my cheeks to dry. Crosses like thae, or lack o' warld's gear, Are naething, when we tyne a friend that's dear. Ah! waes me for you, Willie! mony a day Did I wi' you on yon broom-thackit brae

་་་་་་་་་་

འ་་་་་་

་་་་་་་་

TO THE MEMORY OF DR. WILLIAM WILKIE.

Hound aff my sheep, and let them careless gang
To hearken to your cheery tale or sang ;-
Sangs that, for ay, on Caledonia's strand,
Shall sit the foremost 'mang her tunefu' band.

I dreamt, yestreen, his deadly wraith I saw Gang by my een, as white's the driven snaw; My collie, Ringie, youf'd and youl'd a' night;. Cour'd and crap nar me, in an unco fright:

I waken'd, fley'd, and shook baith lith and lim',
A cauldness took me, and my sight grew dim ;
I kent that it forspake approaching wae,
Whan my poor doggie was disturbit sae.
Nae sooner did the day begin to dáwn,
Than I beyont the knowe fu' speedy ran,
Whare I was keppit wi' the heavy tale

₹

That sets ilk dowie sangster to bewail.

DAVIE.

And wha on Fifan bents can weel refuse

To gie the tear o' tribute to his Muse ?----