TO
JOSIAH BURCHET, ESQ.,
SECRETARY OF THE ADMIRALTY,
WITH THE FIRST SCENE OF THE GENTLE SHEPHERD.
| The nipping frosts, the driving snaw, Are o'er the hills and far awa'; Bauld Boreas sleeps, the Zephyres blaw, And ilka thing Sae dainty, youthfou, gay, and bra', Invites to sing. |
| Then let's begin by creek of day, Kind muse skiff to the bent away, To try anes mair the landart lay, With a' thy speed, Since Burchet awns that thou can play Upon the reed. |
| Anes, anes again beneath some tree Exert thy skill and nat'ral glee, To him wha has sae courteously, To weaker sight, Set these[57] rude sonnets sung by me In truest light. |
| In truest light may a' that's fine In his fair character still shine, Sma' need he has of sangs like mine To beet his name; For frae the north to southern line, Wide gangs his fame. |
| His fame, which ever shall abide, Whilst hist'ries tell of tyrants pride, Wha vainly strave upon the tide T' invade these lands, Where Britain's royal fleet doth ride, Which still commands. |
| These doughty actions frae his pen,[58] Our age, and these to come, shall ken, How stubborn navies did contend Upon the waves, How free-born Britons faught like men, Their faes like slaves. |
| Sae far inscribing, Sir, to you, This country sang, my fancy flew, Keen your just merit to pursue; But ah! I fear, In giving praises that are due, I grate your ear. |
| Yet tent a poet's zealous pray'r; May powers aboon, with kindly care, Grant you a lang and muckle skair Of a' that's good, Till unto langest life and mair You've healthfu' stood. |
| May never care your blessings sowr, And may the muses, ilka hour, Improve your mind, and haunt your bow'r; I'm but a callan: Yet may I please you, while I'm your Devoted Allan. |
THE PERSONS.