three
Made Homer deep their debtor;
But, gien the body half an e'e,
Nine Ferriers wad done better!

Last day my mind was in a bog,
Down George's Street I stoited;
A creeping cauld prosaic fog
My very sense doited.

Do what I dought to set her free,
My saul lay in the mire;
Ye turned a neuk--I saw your e'e--
She took the wing like fire!

The mournfu' sang I here enclose,
In gratitude I send you,
And pray, in rhyme as weel as prose,
A' gude things may attend you!

Written By Somebody On The Window

Of an Inn at Stirling, on seeing the Royal Palace in ruin.

Here Stuarts once in glory reigned,
And laws for Scotland's weal ordained;
But now unroof'd their palace stands,
Their sceptre's sway'd by other hands;
Fallen indeed, and to the earth
Whence groveling reptiles take their birth.
The injured Stuart line is gone,
A race outlandish fills their throne;
An idiot race, to honour lost;
Who know them best despise them most.

The Poet's Reply To The Threat Of A Censorious Critic

My imprudent lines were answered, very petulantly, by somebody, I
believe, a Rev. Mr. Hamilton. In a MS., where I met the answer, I wrote
below:--

With Esop's lion, Burns says: Sore I feel
Each other's scorn, but damn that ass' heel!

The Libeller's Self-Reproof^1

Rash mortal, and slanderous poet, thy name
Shall no longer appear in the records of Fame;
Dost not know that old Mansfield, who writes like the Bible,
Says, the more 'tis a truth, sir, the more 'tis a libel!

Verses Written With A Pencil

Over the Chimney--piece in the Parlour of the Inn at Kenmore, Taymouth.

Admiring Nature in her wildest grace,
These northern scenes with weary feet I trace;
O'er many a winding dale and painful steep,
Th' abodes of covey'd grouse and timid sheep,

[Footnote 1: These are rhymes of dubious authenticity.--Lang.]

My savage journey, curious, I pursue,
Till fam'd Breadalbane opens to my view.--
The meeting cliffs each deep-sunk glen divides,
The woods wild scatter'd, clothe their ample sides;
Th' outstretching lake, imbosomed 'mong the hills,
The eye with wonder and amazement fills;
The Tay meand'ring sweet in infant pride,
The palace rising on his verdant side,
The lawns wood-fri