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1 Lord Melville was Colonel of the Mid-Lothian Yeomanry Cavalry; Sir §. Hope of Pinkie, Major; and Robert Cockburn, Esq., and Lord Elcho, were captains in the same corps. The Scots Greys, under General Sir James Stewart of Coltness, were on duty at Edinburgh during the King's visit. Bonaparte's exclamation at Waterloo was, “Ces beaux chevaux gris, comme ils travaillent : 3 Marquis of Huntly, Colonel of the 42nd Regiment. 4 Colonel Ronaldson Macdonnell of Glengarry. 5 The Earl of lirrol is hereditary Lord HighConstable of Scotland. G A corruption of the Gaelic Banamhorar.Chat, or the Great Lady (literally Female / ord of the Chatte); the Celtic title of the Countess of Sutherland.
Knight Mareschal, see ye clear the gate— Carle, now the King's come
‘Kind cummer, Leith, ye’ve been
‘My daughters, come with een sae blue, Your garlands weave, your blossoms strew; He ne'er sawfairer flowers than you — Carle, now the King's come !
‘What shall we do for the propine—
We used to offer something fine,
But ne'er a groat’s in pouch of mine— Carle, now the King's come
‘Deil care—for that I'se never start,
“I’ll show him mason-work this day—
“I’ll show him wit, I’ll show him lair,
“Step out, Sir John', of projects rife,
 Sor John Sinclair," patron and projector of national an 1 patriotic plans,’ says Lockhart.)
ONE VOLUME MORE. (1823.) (II'ritten for the Bannatyne Club.)
Assist me, ye friends of Old Books and Old Wine, To sing in the praises of sage Bannatyne, Who left such a treasure of old Scottish lore As enables each age to print one volume more. One volume more, my friends, one volume more, We’ll ransack old Banny for one volume more.
And first, Allan Ramsay was eager
to glean From Bannatyne's Hortus his bright Evergreen; Two light little volumes (intended for four)
Still leave us the task to print one volume more.
One volume more, &c.
His ways were not ours, for he cared not a pin
How much he left out, or how much he put in ;
The truth of the reading he thought was a bore,
So this accurate age calls for one volume more.
One volume more, &c.
Correct and sagacious, then came my Lord Hailes,
And weigh’d every letter in critical scales,
But left out some brief words, which the prudish abhor,
And castrated Banny in one volume In Ore.
One volume more, my friends, one volume more ;
We'll restore Banny's manhood in one volume more.
John Pinkerton next, and I’m truly concern’d I can't call that worthy so candid as learn’d ; He rail'd at the plaid and blasphemed the claymore, And set Scots by the ears in his one volume more. One volume more, my friends, one volume more, Celt and Goth shall be pleased with one volume more.
Asbitter as gall, and as sharp as a razor, And feeding on herbs as a Nebuchadnezzar, His diet too acid, his temper too sour, Little Ritson came out with his two volumes more. But one volume, my friends, one volume more, We’ll dine on roast-beef and print one volume more.
The stout Gothic yeditur", next on the roll, With his beard like a brush and as black as a coal, And honest Greysteel” that was true to the core, Lent their hearts and their hands each to one volume more.
One volume more, &c.
Since by these single champions what wonders were done, What may not be achieved by our Thirty and One? Law, Gospel, and Commerce we count in our corps, And the Trade and the Press join for one volume more. One volume more, &c.
1 James Sibbald. 2 David Herd.
(1824.) “Maidae marmorea dormis sub imagine Maida | Adjanuarn domini sit tibi terra levis.” ‘DEAR John, I some time ago wrote to inform his Fat worship of faces, misprinted for dormis; But that several Southrons assured me the fanuarn Was a twitch to both ears of Ass Priscian's cranium. You, perhaps, may observe that one Lionel Berguer, In defence of our blunder appears a stout arguer: But at length I have settled, I hope, als these clatters,
By a rowf in the papers—fine place for such matters. I have, therefore, to make it for once my command, sir, my gudeson shall leave the whole thing in my hand, sir, And by no means accomplish what James says you threaten, Some banter in Blackwood 1 to claim your dog-Latin. I have various reasons of weight, on my word, sir, For pronouncing a step of this sort were absurd, sir. Firstly, erudite sir, 'twas against your advising I adopted the lines this monstrosity lies in ; For you modestly hinted my English translation Would become better far such a dignified station. Second—how, in God's name, would my bacon be saved, By not having writ what I clearly engraved? On the contrary, I, on the whole, think it better To be whipped as the thief, than his lousy resetter. Thirdly—don't you perceive that I don't care a boddle Although fifty false metres were flung at my noddle, For my back is as broad and as hard as Benlomon's, And I treat as I please both the Greeks and the Romans; Whereas the said heathens might rather look serious At a kick on their drum from the scribe of Valerius *. And, fourthly and lastly—it is my good pleasure To remain the sole source of that murderous measure.
1 Blackwood's Magazine. * Lockhart's novel.
So stet pro ratione voluntas–be tractile, Invade not, I say, my own dear little dactyl ; If you do, you’ll occasion a breach in our intercourse. To-morrow will see me in town for the winter-course, But not at your door, at the usual hour, sir, My own pye-house (pious!) daughter's good prog to devour, sir. Ergo—peace —on your duty, your Squeamishness throttle, And we’ll soothe Priscian's spleen with a canny third bottle. A fig for all dactyls, a fig for all spondees, A fig for all dunces and dominie Grundys ; A fig for dry thrapples, south, north, east, and west, sir, Speates and raxes' ere five for a famishing guest, sir; And as Fatsman * and I have some topics for haver, he’ll Be invited, I hope, to meet me and Dame Peveril, Upon whom, to say nothing of Oury and Anne, you a Dog shall be deemed if you fasten your Janua.
ADDRESSED TO MONSIEUR ALEXANDRE, THE CELEBRATED ventriloquist.
Of yore, in old England, it was not thought good To carry two visages under one hood; What should folk say to you ? who have faces such plenty, That, from under one hood, last night show'd us twenty
! Spits and ranges. * James Ballantyne.
Stand forth, arch deceiver, and tell us in truth, Are you handsome or ugly, in age or in youth : Man, woman, or child—a dog or a mouse ! Or are you, at once, each live thing in the house? Each live thing, did I ask?—each dead implement, too, A workshop in your person, saw, chisel, and screw Above all, are you one individual? I know You must be at least Alexandre and Co. But I think you’re a troop—an assemblage—a mob, And that I, as the Sheriff, should take up the job; And insteadofrehearsingyour wonders in verse, Must read you the Riot Act, and bid you disperse. ABBOTSFORD, 23rd April.
TO THE DRAMA FOUNDED ON ‘SAINT RoNAN's well.’
Enter MEG DoDDs, encircled by a crowd of unruly boys, whom a town's-officer is driving off.
THAT's right, friend—drive the gaitlings' back, And lend yon muckle ane a whack; Your Embro' bairns are grown a pack, Sae proud and saucy, They scarce will let an auld wife walk Upon your causey. [l Children.]