“Nec si quid olim lusit Anacreon,
Delevit ætas.” – CAR. IV. 9.
I TUNE my pipe to Doric strains
Wi’ great gude will, an’ meikle pains,
Altho’ my skill be like my gains –
Baith unco sma’;
An’ yet a something tae remains
Aboon the blaw.
–
It’s no’ for a’ the pipin’ crew
To blaw sic strains as Robbie blew;
It’s no’ for ilka bard to pu’
A branch saw green
As cleeds wi’ laurel Robbie’s broo
Doun to the een.
–
Yet humbler menstrils hae their meed;
There’s Allan wi’ his rural reed,
An’ Fergusson, sae bauld to lead,
Sae sune to fa’,
An’ Jamie Hogg, a border breed,
An’ Paisley’s twa.
–
Forbye the bards that aulder are,
Like Barbour, Douglas, an’ Dunbar,
An’ Lyndsay – wha in Fife wad daur
His name forget?
A’ haill, an’ scarce a hair the waur,
An’ pipin’ yet!
–
Such recompense the Muses gie
The Makkars a’ in their degree,
That neither they themsels’ can dee,
Nor what they notice;
While what they slicht, or dinna see,
Quickly forgot is.
–
Brave men were born afore the Bruce;
An’ mony an auld heroic Hoose
Has slippit through Oblivion’s sluice,
An’ ne’er a wird o’t!
They did braw things to little use –
We never heard o’t!
–
An’, therefore, Saunders, when ye gang, –
But late may that day be, an’ lang!
I promise ye a burr’al sang
As sune’s we’ve tint ye,
To keep you name amon’ the thrang
That comes ahint ye.
–
I’ll tell them o’ your noble hert,
An’ hoo ye took the puir man’s pairt,
An’ garr’d a greedy rascal smairt,
A graspin’ cratur’;
I’ll spread abroad wi’ a’ my airt
Your generous natur’.
–
I’ll sing your noble confidence
An’ trust in man; your common sense
That lat ye see thro’ a’ pretence,
Yet smile to see ‘t;
I’ll sing the virtues that gaed hence
When Saunders dee’d.
–
[Per Contra. – Rin, little postscripp, rin an’ tell
That Saunders as he’s drawn ‘s a sell,
For Saunders crams into a shell
His sordid natur’,
Cheats, an’ distrusts, an’ is himsel
The graspin’ cratur’!]
Note. – By “Paisley’s Twa,” Hugh probably intends Alexander Wilson, and Tannahill.