EXTEMPORE, WRITTEN IN A LADY'S POCKET-BOOK. GRANT me, indulgent Heav'n! that I may live LINES ON MISS J. SCOTT, OF AYR. OH! had each Scot of ancient times, LINES WRITTEN UNDER THE PICTURE OF THE CELEBRATED MISS BURNS. CEASE, ye prudes, your envious railing, Lovely Burns has charms-confess' True it is, she had one failing; Had a woman ever less? LINES, ON BEING ASKED WHY GOD HAD MADE MISS DAVIS SO LITTLE, AND MISS SO LARGE; -WRITTEN A PANE OF GLASS, IN THE INN AT MOFFAT. ASK why God made the gem so small, אי LINES WRITTEN AND PRESENTED TO MRS. KEMBLE, ON SEE ING HER IN THE CHARACTER OF YARICO. KEMBLE, thou cur'st my unbelief Of Moses and his rod; At Yarico's sweet notes of grief, Dumfries Theatre, 1794. 29* LINES WRITTEN ON WINDOWS OF THE GLOBE TAVERN, DUMFRIES. THE graybeard, old Wisdom, may boast of his treas ures, Give me with gay Folly to live; I grant him his calm-blooded, time-settled pleasures. But Folly has raptures to give. I MURDER hate by field or flood, The deities that I adore, Are social Peace and Plenty : I'm better pleas'd to make one more My bottle is my holy pool, That heals the wounds o' care and doo And pleasure is a wanton trout, An' ye drink it, ye'll find him out. IN politics if thou would'st mix, And mean thy fortunes be; Bear this in mind-be deaf and blind Let great folks hear and see. LINES WRITTEN ON A WINDOW, AT THE KING'S-ARMS TAVERN, DUMFRIES. YE men of wit and wealth, wi' a' this sneering A VERSE, PRESENTED BY THE AUTHOR, TO THE MASTER OF A WHEN Death's dark stream I ferry o'er- EPIGRAM. [Burns, accompanied by a friend, having gone to Inverary at a time when some company were there on a visit to the Duke of Argyll, finding himself and his companion entirely neglected by the innkeeper, whose whole attention seemed to be occupied with the visiters of his Grace, expressed his disapprobation of the incivility with which they were treated, in the following lines.] WHOE'ER he be that sojourns here, I pity much his case, Unless he comes to wait upon The Lord their God his Grace. There's naething here but Highland pride, If Providence has sent me here, EPIGRAM ON ELPHINSTONE'S TRANSLATION OF MARTIAL'S EPI GRAMS. O THOU whom Poetry abhors, Whom Prose has turned out of doors, Heard'st thou that groan?-proceed no further, 'Twas laurell'd Martial roaring, Murder |