But wad ye see him in his glee,
(For meikle glee and fun has he,)
Then set him down, and twa or three
Guid fellows wi' him;

And port, O port! shine thou a wee,
And then ye'll see him!

Now, by the powers o' verse and prose!
Thou art a dainty chiel, O Grose!-
Whae'er o' thee shall ill suppose,

They sair misca' thee;

I'd take the rascal by the nose,

Wad say, Shame fa' thee.

EPITAPH ON CAPTAIN GROSE, THE CEL EBRATED ANTIQUARY.

THE Devil got notice that GROSE was a-dying,
So whip at the summons, old Satan came flying;
But when he approached where poor FRANCIS
lay moaning,

And saw each bedpost with its burden a-groaning,
Astonished, confounded, cried Satan: "By —
I'll want 'im, ere I take such a damnable load "

WRITTEN IN AN ENVELOPE, ENCLOSING A LETTER TO CAPTAIN GROSE.

Professor Stewart having intimated to the poet a desire to see Grose, Burns sent a letter, notifying Stewart's wish, to his antiquarian friend.

Not being very sure of the whereabouts of Grose, the bard enclosed his letter in an envelope addressed to Mr. Cardonnel, a brother antiquary, and containing a set of jocular verses in imitation of the quaint song of Sir John Malcolm.

KEN ye ought o' Captain Grose?
Igo and ago,

If he's amang his friends or foes?
Iram, coram, dago.

Is he to Abra'm's bosom gane?
Igo and ago;

Or hauding Sarah by the wame?
Iram, coram, dago.

Is he south, or is he north?

Igo and ago;

Or drowned in the river Forth?

Iram, coram, dago.

Is he slain by Highlan' bodies?
Igo and ago,

And eaten like a wether haggis?
Iram, coram, dago.

Where'er he be, the Lord be near him,
Igo and ago;

As for the deil, he daurna steer him,
Iram, coram, dago.

disturb

But please transmit the enclosed letter,
Igo and ago,

Which will oblige your humble debtor,
Iram, coram, dago.

So may ye hae auld stanes in store,
Igo and ago,

The very stanes that Adam bore,

Iram, coram, dago.

So may ye get in glad possession,
Igo and ago,

The coins o' Satan's coronation!

Iram, coram, dago.

THE LADDIES BY THE BANKS O NITH.

TUNE-Up and waur them a'.

A contest for the representation of the Dumfries group of burghs commenced in September between Sir James Johnston of Westerhall, the previous member, and Captain Miller, younger of Dalswinton, son of Burns's landlord. In this affair the bard stood variously affected. Professing only a whimsical Jacobitism, he had hitherto taken no decided part with either of the two great factions of his time; but he had a certain leaning towards Mr. Pitt and his supporters. On the other hand, some of his best friends-as Henry Erskine, the Earl of Glencairn, Mr. Miller, Captain Riddel - were Whigs, and these persons he was fearful to offend. On this canvass becoming keen, Burns threw in his pen, but rather from the contagion of local excitement than from partisanship. One feeling, indeed, he had in earnest, and this was detestation of the Duke of Queensberry. The duke, who was the greatest landlord in Nithsdale, was considered as having proved something like a traitor to the king on the late occasion of the Regency Bill, when he was in the minority which voted for the surrender of the power of the

crown into the hands of the Prince of Wales without restriction. For this, and for his mean personal character and heartless debaucheries, Burns held his Grace in extreme contempt. In the first place, then, he penned an election ballad, chiefly against the duke.

THE laddies by the banks o' Nith

Wad trust his Grace wi' a', Jamie, But he'll sair them as he sair'd the kingTurn tail and rin awa', Jamie.

Up and waur them a', Jamie,

Up and waur them a';

The Johnstons hae the guidin' o't,'
Ye turn-coat Whigs, awa'!

The day he stude his country's friend,
Or gied her faes a claw, Jamie,
Or frae puir man a blessin' wan,
That day the Duke ne'er saw, Jamie.

But wha is he, his country's boast?
Like him there is na twa, Jamie;
There's no a callant tents the kye,
But kens o' Westerha', Jamie.

serve

baffle

Doy watches

1 A Border proverb, significant of the great local power of this family in former times. The Gordons were the subject of a similar proverb, which forms the title of a beautiful melody.