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But, ho! my hat, my hat's awa'!
L-d help's! the saw-pit's down and a'!
Rax me your hand_hech! how he granes,
I fear your legs are broken banes.
I tauld you this; but deil-mak-matter,
Ye thought it a' but idle clatter;
Now see, ye misbelieving sinners,
Your bloody shins—your saw in flinners;
And roun' about your lugs the ruin,
That your demented folly drew on.

Experience ne'er sae sicker tells us,
As when she lifts her rung and fells us.

The Disconsolate Wren.

Be not the Muse ashamed here to bemoan
Her brothers of the grove.

THOMSON.

THE morn was keęking frae the east,
The lav'rocks shrill, wi' dewy breast,
Were tow'ring past my ken,
Alang a burnie's flow'ry side,
That gurgled on wi' glancin' glide,
I gained a bushy glen;

The circling nets ilk spider weaves
Bent wi' clear dew-drops hung,
A' roun' amang the spreading leaves,
The cheery natives sung;

On'ts journey, the burnie

Fell dashing down some lins,
White foaming, and roaming,
In rage amang the stanes.

While on the gowany turf I sat,
And viewed this blissfu' sylvan spat,

Amid the joyous soun';

Some mournfu' chirps, methought of wae,

Stole on my ear frae neath a brae;

Whare as I glinted down,

I spied a bonny wee bit Wren,
Lone on a fuggy stane :

And aye she tore her breast, an' than,
Poor thing, poured out her mane,
Sae faintive, sae plaintive;

To hear her vent her strain,

Distrest me and prest me
To ken her cause o' pain.

Down frae a hingan hazel root,
Wi' easy wing, and sadly mute,
A social Robin came;

Upon a tremblin' twig he perched,
While owre his head the craig was arched,

Near hand the helpless dame;
Awee he viewed her sad despair-

Her bitter chirps of wae,

Brought frae his e'e the pearly tear,

Whilk owre his breast did gae;

Still eyeing and spying,

Nane near to gi'e relief;
And drooping and stooping,
He thus enquired her grief.

66 'What dolefu' ill, alas! what woe
Gars thee sit mourning here below,
And rive thy mirley breast?
Has ony whitret's direfu' jaws,
Or greedy gled's fell squeezing claws,
Made thy wee lord a feast?

Or has some callans frae the town,

While roaring through the shaw,

Thy wee things' nest and a' torn down,
And borne them far awa?

My Wrannie, I canna

Rest till thy waes thou tell;
For I yet may cry yet

Wi' siccan grief mysel'."

"Och, Rab! my heart will brust in twaAlas! I'm dizzy-O I'll fa'!

My legs, my heart will fail

But since ye speer sae kind, my frien',
And love like yours is seldom seen,

I'se tell the dreadful tale.
Aneath yon hingin' brae, as best,
Soon as the leaves came out,
Ye ken we joyfu' bug our nest,
And clos't it a' about.

Fu' cleanly and beinly

We lined it a' wi' down;

And neatly and quietly

We formed it snug and soun'.

"The brae hung owre in bushy height,
And hade it close frae ony's sight,
That dauner't through the glen;
Nane e'er observed us/jink within,
Or ever there for nests did fin,
'Twas sic a lanely den.
And mony a day and night I sat,
While my wee Tam did sing,
Till saxteen bonny things I gat,
A hotching 'neath each wing.
What pleasure, this treasure
Gied us, I needna' tell;
Sic pleasure, sic treasures,
Ye've aft enjoyed yoursel'.

"Soon as the gladsome morning rose,
I left them rowed in warm repose,
And through the warbling wood,

'Mang auld tree roots and prickly brier, My Tam and me, withouten fear,

Roved for their wanted food;

And, oh! what transports swelled my breast,

At night, when I surveyed
A' safe and weel about our nest,
An' them quiet feath'ring laid!—
Och! Robin-this sobbin

Forgie, for to the scenes

I draw now, that gnaw now,
My heart wi' wringing pains.

"This morn as soon as it grew light,

Baith through the glen we took our flight,
And soon my neb I filled;
Some dreadfu' hurling noise I heard,
And pale forebodings made me feared,
That a' my hopes were killed.

I flighter't hame; but och! dread scene!
Whose horror crushed my breath:
The brae had fa'n huge to the plain,
And dashed them a' to death.

Ye heavens, my grievings

Ye might have ceased to flow,

Me crashing and dashing

With them to shades below.

"Nae mair I'll through the valley flee,
And gather worms wi' blissfu' glee,
To feed my chirping young;
Nae mair wi' Tam himsel' I'll rove,
Nor shall e'er joy throughout the grove,

Flow frae my wretched tongue;

But lanely, lanely aye I'll hap,

'Mang auld stane-dykes and braes, Till some ane roar down on my tap, And end my joyless days."

So slowly and lowly

Araise the hapless Wren,

While crying and sighing,

Remurmured through the glen.

Second Epistle to Mr. Andrew Clark.

TIRED wi' tramping moors and mosses,
Speeling stairs, and lifting snecks,
Daunering down through lanes and closses,
Buskin' braw the bonny sex.

Hame at e'ening, late I scuded,

Whare Auld Reekie's turrets tower,

Mirk the lift was drowsy cluded,
And the starns begoud to glower;

In my nieve, my honest lucky,
Soon's I reek't her ingle cheek,
Ram't yer lines-as daft's a bucky
Was I when I heard you speak.

Ben the room I ran wi' hurry,
Closed the door wi' unco glee,
Read and leugh, maist like to worry,
Till my pow grew haflins ree.

Sonsy fa' your Muse my laddie!

She's a wench can mount fu' heigh, Though her phraizing, far owre gaudie, Gars me cock my tap fu' skeigh.'

Cartha's banks wi' flowerets hinging,
Warbling birds, wi' towering wing;
Rocks and hills wi' music ringing,

Weel I like to hear you sing.

Ο

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