ANNA, thy charms my bosom fire, And waste my soul with care; But ah! how bootless to admire, When fated to despair! Yet in thy presence, lovely Fair,

Ask why God made the gem so small… And why so huge the granite?— Because God meant mankind should… That higher value on it.

I CALL no Goddess to inspire my… A fabled Muse may suit a bard tha… Friend of my life! my ardent spiri… And all the tribute of my heart re… For boons accorded, goodness ever…

O Thou, the first, the greatest f… Of all the human race! Whose strong right hand has ever b… Their stay and dwelling place! Before the mountains heav’d their…

When Januar’ wind was blawing cau… As to the north I took my way, The mirksome night did me enfauld, I knew na whare to lodge till day: By my gude luck a maid I met,

Ye flowery banks o’ bonnie Doon, How can ye blume sae fair? How can ye chant, ye little birds, And I sae fu’ o’ care? Thou’ll break my heart, thou bonie…

YOUR News and Review, sir. I’ve read through and through, sir… With little admiring or blaming; The Papers are barren Of home-news or foreign,

YE hypocrites! are these your pra… To murder men and give God thanks… Desist, for shame!—proceed no furt… God won’t accept your thanks for…

BEHOLD the hour, the boat, arri… My dearest Nancy, O fareweel! Severed frae thee, can I survive, Frae thee whom I hae lov’d sae we… Endless and deep shall be my grief…

WHEN dear Clarinda, 1 matchless… First struck Sylvander’s raptur’d… He gaz’d, he listened to despair, Alas! 'twas all he dared to do. Love, from Clarinda’s heavenly ey…

I hae seen the hairst o’ Rettie,… And twa—three aff the throne. I’ve heard o sax and seven weeks The hairsters girn and groan. But wi’ a covie Willie Rae

Guid—Mornin’ to our Majesty! May Heaven augment your blisses On ev’ry new birth—day ye see, A humble poet wishes. My bardship here, at your Levee

‘And send the godly in a pet to pr… O Thou, that in the heavens does… Wha, as it pleases best Thysel’, Sends ane to heaven an’ ten to hel… A’ for Thy glory,

There’s nane that’s blest of human… But the cheerful and the gay, man, Fal, la, la, &c. Here’s a bottle and an honest frie… What wad ye wish for mair, man?

Let other poets raise a fracas Bout vines, and wines, an drucken… An crabbit names an stories wrack… An grate our lug: I sing the juice Scotch bear can…