TO MR. ROBERT FERGUSSON.

Is Allan1 risen frae the deid,
Wha aft has tun'd the aiten reed,
And by the muses was decreed

To grace the thistle ?

Na; Fergusson's come in his stead
To blaw the whistle.

In troth, my callant, I'm sae fain
To see your sonsy, canty strain,
You write sic easy stile and plain,

And words sae bonny, Nae suth'ron lown dare you disdain, Or cry fy on ye!

Whae'er has at Auld Reikie been,
And king's birth-days exploits has seen,
Maun own that ye hae gi'en a keen

And true description;

Nor say ye've at Parnassus been

To form a fiction.

Hale be your heart, ye canty chield!
May ye ne'er want a gude warm beild,
And sic gude cakes as Scotland yields,
And ilka dainty

That grows or feeds upon her fields;
And whisky plenty.

But ye, perhaps, thirst mair for fame
Than a' the gude things I can name,

1 Ramsay.

And then ye will be sair to blame

For that ye

My gude intention;

needna gae frae hame,

Ye've sic pretension.

Sae saft and sweet your verses jingle,
And your auld words sae meetly mingle,
"Twill gar baith married fouk and single
To roose your lays;

Whan we forgather round the ingle,
We'll chant your praise.

Whan I again Auld Reikie see,
And can forgather, lad, with thee,
Than we wi' muckle mirth and glee
Shall tak' a gill,

And o' your caller oysters we

Shall eat our fill.

If sic a thing shou'd you betide,
To Berwick town to tak a ride,
I'se tak ye up Tweed's bonnie side
Before ye settle,

And shew you there the fisher's pride,
A Sa'mon-kettle.1

There lads an' lasses do conveen
To feast an' dance upo' the green,
An' there sick brav'ry may be seen

As will confound ye,

1 The established or best mode of dressing salmon at the mouth of the Tweed is to put sea-water [sait] into the kettle, and boil the newlycaught fish therein. It is said by those who have tasted it that it is by far the best way to cook salmon.-Mr. Robert Burns, Secundus. [I sus. pect M. Soyer would dissent.]

An' gar ye glowr out baith your een
At a' around ye.

To see sae mony bosoms bare,

An' sic huge puddins i' their hair,
An' some of them wi' naithing mair
Upo' their tete;

Yea, some wi' mutches that might scar
Craws frae their meat.

I ne'er appear'd before in print,
But for your sake wou'd fain be in't,
E'en that I might my wishes hint

That you'd write mair;

For sure your head-piece is a mint
Whar wit's nae rare.

1 'I would not rather,' as in Ramsay:

But I lure chuse in Highland glens
To herd the kid and goat, man,
Ere I cou'd for sic little ends
Refuse my bonny Scotman.

SONGS, vol. ii. p. 250.

2 In every edition of Fergusson from Ruddiman's (1779: Part II. or supplement to the Author's own, 1773) onward, tnis letter is dated erroneously 1773. It appeared in the 'Weekly Magazine' (Vol. xvii: pp. 3056) for September 5d. 1772: and the Poet's answer in the next Number, September 10th, 1772. See Life.

ANSWER TO MR. J. S.'s EPISTLE.

I TROW, my mettl'd Louden lathie,
Auld farran birky I maun ca' thee,

For whan in gude black print I saw thee
Wi' souple gab,

I skirl❜d fou loud, "Oh wae befa' thee!

"But thou'rt a daub."

Awa', ye wylie fleetchin fallow!

The rose shall grow like gowan yallow,
Before I turn sae toom and shallow,
And void of fushion,

As a' your butter'd words to swallow
In vain delusion.

Ye mak my Muse a dautit pet,

1

But gin she cou'd like Allan's 1 met,

Or couthie crack and hamely get

Upo' her carritch,

Eithly wad I be in your debt

A pint o' parritch.

At times whan she may lowse her pack,

I'll grant that she can find a knack,

To gar auld-warld wordies clack

In hamespun rhime,

While ilk ane at his billie's back

Keeps gude Scots time.

But she maun e'en be glad to jook,
And play teet-bo frae nook to nook,

1 Ramsay.

Or blush as gin she had the yook

Upo' her skin,

Whan Ramsay1 or whan Pennicuik

Their lilts begin.

2

At morning ear, or late at e'en,
Gin ye sud hap to come and see ane,
Nor niggard wife, nor greetin wee ane,
Within my cloyster,

Can challenge you and me frae preein'
A caller oyster.

Heh lad! it wou'd be news indeed,
War I to ride to bonny Tweed,
Wha ne'er laid gamon o'er a steed

Beyont Lusterrick; 3

And auld shanks nag 4 wou'd tire, I dread,
To pace to Berwick.

You crack weel o' your lasses there,
Their glancin' een and bisket bare;
But thof this town be smeekit sair,
I'll wad a farden,

1 Allan Ramsay.

2 There are two Pennicuiks both poets. 1st, Dr. Alexander Pennicuik, author of the 'Description of Tweedale' and of various racy poems. He was the friend of Ramsay,-died 1722. 2d, Alexander Pennicuik who in 1720 published Streams from Helicon,' and in 1726 Flowers from Parnassus.' He wrote also an Historical account of the Blue Blanket, or Craftsman's Banner.' None of these poets are at all such as to make Fergusson blush.

3 Restalrig, an ancient village about a mile east from the Old town of Edinburgh, occupying the lower part of the vale which stretches from the sea-shore to Holyrood-house. It is curious that the vulgar Lusterrick preserves the proper ancient name more nearly than the polite, namely, Lestalric.

4 The feet, to go on foot to Berwick. See Glossary in loc.