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the flood an' tide; And tho' wi' crazy eild I'm sair forfairn, I'll be a brig when ye're a shapeless cairn! As yet ye little ken about the matter, But twa--three winters will inform ye better. When heavy, dark, continued, a'-day rains, [Footnote 4: A noted ford, just above the Auld Brig.--R. B.] Wi' deepening deluges o'erflow the plains; When from the hills where springs the brawling Coil, Or stately Lugar's mossy fountains boil; Or where the Greenock winds his moorland course. Or haunted Garpal draws his feeble source, Aroused by blustering winds an' spotting thowes, In mony a torrent down the snaw-broo rowes; While crashing ice, borne on the rolling spate, Sweeps dams, an' mills, an' brigs, a' to the gate; And from Glenbuck,^5 down to the Ratton-key,^6 Auld Ayr is just one lengthen'd, tumbling sea-- Then down ye'll hurl, (deil nor ye never rise!) And dash the gumlie jaups up to the pouring skies! A lesson sadly teaching, to your cost, That Architecture's noble art is lost!" New Brig "Fine architecture, trowth, I needs must say't o't, The Lord be thankit that we've tint the gate o't! Gaunt, ghastly, ghaist-alluring edifices, Hanging with threat'ning jut, like precipices; O'er-arching, mouldy, gloom-inspiring coves, Supporting roofs, fantastic, stony groves; Windows and doors in nameless sculptures drest With order, symmetry, or taste unblest; Forms like some bedlam Statuary's dream, The craz'd creations of misguided whim; Forms might be worshipp'd on the bended knee, And still the second dread command be free; Their likeness is not found on earth, in air, or sea! Mansions that would disgrace the building taste Of any mason reptile, bird or beast: Fit only for a doited monkish race, Or frosty maids forsworn the dear embrace, Or cuifs of later times, wha held the notion, That sullen gloom was sterling, true devotion: Fancies that our guid Brugh denies protection, And soon may they expire, unblest wi' resurrection!" [Footnote 5: The source of the River Ayr.--R. B.] [Footnote 6: A small landing place above the large quay.--R. B.] Auld Brig "O ye, my dear-remember'd, ancient yealings, Were ye but here to share my wounded feelings! Ye worthy Proves
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