CHARLES MORRIS. 1739-1832.

Solid men of Boston, banish long potations;
Solid men of Boston, make no long orations.1

Pitt and Dundas's Return to London from Wimbledon.
American Song. From Lyra Urbanica.

O, give me the sweet shady side of Pall Mall!

Town and Country.

JOHN TRUMBULL. 1750-1831.

But optics sharp it needs, I ween,
To see what is not to be seen.

McFingal. Canto i. Line 67.

But as some muskets so contrive it
As oft to miss the mark they drive at,
And, though well aimed at duck or plover,
Bear wide, and kick their owners over.

As though there were a tie

And obligation to posterity.

We get them, bear them, breed and nurse.
What has posterity done for us,

Canto i. Line 93.

That we, lest they their rights should lose,

Should trust our necks to gripe of noose. Canto ii. Line 121.

No man e'er felt the halter draw,

With good opinion of the law.

1 Solid men of Boston, make no long orations;

Solid men of Boston, banish strong potations.

Canto iii. Line 489.

Billy Pitt and the Farmer. From Debrett's Asylum for
Fugitive Pieces, Vol. ii. p. 250.

ROBERT BURNS. 1759-1796.

Where sits our sulky, sullen dame,

Gathering her brows like gathering storm,
Nursing her wrath to keep it warm.

Ah, gentle dames! it gars me greet
To think how monie counsels sweet,
How monie lengthened sage advices,
The husband frae the wife despises.
His ancient, trusty, drouthy crony;
Tam lo'ed him like a vera brither, -
They had been fou for weeks thegither.
The landlady and Tam grew gracious

Wi' favours secret, sweet, and precious.

Tam o' Shanter.

Ibid.

Ibid.

Ibid.

The landlord's laugh was ready chorus.

Ibid.

Kings may be blest, but Tam was glorious,
O'er a' the ills o' life victorious.

Ibid.

But pleasures are like poppies spread,

You seize the flower, its bloom is shed;
Or, like the snow-fall in the river,
A moment white, then melts for ever.

Ibid.

Nae man can tether time or tide.

Ibid.

That hour, o' night's black arch the keystane.

Ibid.

Inspiring, bold John Barleycorn,

What dangers thou canst make us scorn!

Ibid.

As Tammie glowered, amazed and curious,
The mirth and fun grew fast and furious.

Ibid.

Auld Nature swears, the lovely dears
Her noblest work she classes, O;
Her 'prentice han' she tried on man,
And then she made the lasses, O!1

Green grow the Rashes.

Some wee short hour ayont the twal.

Death and Dr. Hornbook.

The best laid schemes o' mice and men
Gang aft a-gley;

And leave us naught but grief and pain
For promised joy.

Man's inhumanity to man.

Makes countless thousands mourn.

To a Mouse,

Man was made to Mourn.

O Life! how pleasant in thy morning,
Young Fancy's rays the hills adorning!
Cold-pausing Caution's lesson scorning,
We frisk away,

Like schoolboys at th' expected warning,

To joy and play. Epistle to James Smith.

Affliction's sons are brothers in distress;
A brother to relieve, how exquisite the bliss!

His locked, lettered, braw brass collar
Showed him the gentleman and scholar.

O wad some power the giftie gie us,
To see oursels as others see us!
It wad frae monie a blunder free us,
And foolish notion.

1 Man was made when Nature was

But an apprentice, but woman when she

A Winter's Night.

The Twa Dogs.

To a Louse.

Was a skilful mistress of her art.- - Cupid's Whirligig (1607).

Then gently scan your brother man,
Still gentler, sister woman;

Though they may gang a kennin' wrang,

To step aside is human.

Address to the Unco Guid.

What 's done we partly may compute,

But know not what 's resisted.

Stern Ruin's ploughshare drives elate
Full on thy bloom.1

Perhaps it may turn out a sang,
Perhaps turn out a sermon.

I waive the quantum o' the sin,
The hazard of concealing;
But, och it hardens a' within,
And petrifies the feeling!

Ibid.

To a Mountain Daisy.

Epistle to a Young Friend.

The fear o' hell's a hangman's whip

To haud the wretch in order;
But where ye feel your honour grip,
Let that aye be your border.

An atheist's laugh 's a poor exchange
For Deity offended!

And may you better reck the rede,2
Than ever did the adviser!

O life! thou art a galling load,

Ibid.

Ibid.

Ibid.

Ibid.

Along a rough, a weary road,

To wretches such as I!

Despondency.

Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes,
Flow gently, I'll sing thee a song in thy praise.

Sweet Afton.

1 Compare Young, Night Thoughts, ix. Page 265.
2 See Shakespeare, Hamlet, Act i. Sc. 3.

If naebody care for me,
I'll care for naebody.1

Should auld acquaintance be forgot,

And never brought to min'?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And days o' lang syne?

If there's a hole in a' your coats,
I rede ye tent it;

A chiel 's amang ye takin' notes,

1 hae a Wife o' my Ain.

And, faith, he'll prent it.

Auld Lang Syne.

On Captain Grose's Peregrinations through Scotland.

Dweller in yon dungeon dark,
Hangman of creation, mark!
Who in widow weeds appears,
Laden with unhonoured years,
Noosing with care a bursting purse,
Baited with many a deadly curse?

Chords that vibrate sweetest pleasure
Thrill the deepest notes of woe.
But to see her was to love her,

Love but her, and love for ever.

Had we never loved sae kindly,
Had we never loved sae blindly,
Never met or never parted,
We had ne'er been broken-hearted!

To see her is to love her,

And love but her for ever.

Now's the day, and now 's the hour,

See the front o' battle lour.

Ode on Mrs. Oswald.

1 Compare Bickerstaff. Page 354.

Sweet Sensibility.

Ae Fond Kiss.

Ibid.

Bonny Lesley.

Bannockburi.