то A LOUSE, ON SEEING ONE ON A LADY'S BONNET, AT CHURCH. HA! whare ye gaun, ye crowlin ferlie! Owre gauze and lace; Tho' faith, I fear ye dine but sparely Ye ugly, creepin, blastit wonner, Gae somewhere else and seek your dinner, Swith, in some beggar's haffet squattle; There ye may creep, and sprawl, and sprattle Wi' ither kindred, jumpin cattle, In shoals and nations; Whare horn or bane ne'er dare unsettle Your thick plantations. Now haud ye there, ye're out o' sight, Below the fatt'rils, snug an' tight; Na, faith ye yet! ye'll no be right Till ye've got on it, The vera tapmost, tow'ring height O' Miss's bonnet. My sooth! right bauld ye set your nose out, As plump and gray as onie grozet; O for some rank, mercurial rozet, Or fell, red smeddum, I'd gie you sic a hearty doze o't, Wad dress your droddum! I wad na been surpris'd to spy You on an auld wife's flainen toy; Or aiblins some bit duddie boy, On's wyliecoat; But Miss's fine Lunardi! fie, O Jenny, dinna toss your head, An' set your beauties a' abread ! Ye little ken what cursed speed do't! The blastie's makin! Thae winks and finger-ends, I dread, O wad some pow'r the giftie gie us To see oursels as others see us !· It wàd frae monie a blunder free us And foolish notion: What airs in dress an' gait wad lea'e us, And ev❜n Devotion ! ADDRESS ADDRESS то EDINBURGH. I. EDINA! Scotia's darling seat! All hail thy palaces and tow'rs, Where once beneath a monarch's feet Sat legislation's sov'reign pow'rs! From marking wildly-scatter'd flow'rs, As on the banks of Ayr I stray'd, And singing, lone, the ling'ring hours, I shelter in thy honour'd shade. II. Here wealth still swells the golden tide, As busy trade his labours plies; There architecture's noble pride Bids elegance and splendour rise; Here justice, from her native skies, High wields her balance and her rod; There learning, with his eagle eyes, Seeks science in her coy abode. III. Thy Sons, EDINA, social, kind, IV. Thy daughters bright thy walks adorn! Gay as the gilded summer sky, Sweet as the dewy milk-white thorn, Dear as the raptur'd thrill of joy! |