CHAP. XXIX. See yonder woman, whom our swains revere, And dread in secret, while they take her counsel When sweetheart shall be kind, or when cross dame shall die; Where lurks the thief who stole the silver tankard, And how the pestilent murrain may be cured ; This sage adviser's mad, stark mad, my friend; Yet, in her madness, hath the art and cunning To wring fools' secrets from their inmost bosoms, And pay inquirers with the coin they gave her.-Old Play. CHAP. XXX. What ho, my jovial mates! come on! we'll frolic it Like fairies frisking in the merry moonshine, Seen by the curtal friar, who, from some christening, This is a gentle trader, and a prudent-Or some blithe bridal, hies belated ce l He's no Autolycus, to blear your eye, With quips of worldly gauds and game someness; But seasons all his glittering merchandise With wholesome doctrine suited to the use, As men sauce goose with sage and rosemary.-Old Play. ward worshipp'd? All things resolve in custom-we'll keep ours.-Old Play. It was Miranda pluck'd it from his shoulders.-Old Play. Along the silver streams of 'Tweed, "Tis blithe along the midnight tide, "Tis blithe at eve to tell the tale, • Alwyn, the seat of the Lord Somerville. FAREWELL TO THE MUSE. 1822. ENCHANTRESS, farewell, who so oft has decoy'd me, At the close of the evening through woodlands to roam, Where the forester, lated, with wonder espied me, Explore the wild scenes he was quitting for home. Farewell, and take with thee thy numbers wild speaking The language alternate of rapture and woe: Oh! none but some lover, whose heartstrings are breaking, The pang that I feel at our parting can know. Each joy thou couldst double, and when there came sorrow, Or pale disappointment to darken my way, What voice was like thine, that could sing of to-morrow, Till forgot in the strain was the grief of to-day! But when friends drop around us in life's weary waning, The grief, Queen of Numbers, thou CARLE, NOW THE KING'S COME.* BEING NEW WORDS TO AN AULD SPRING. 1822. The North for ance has bang'd the South; THE news has flown frae mouth to mouth, The deil a Scotsman's die o' drouth, Carle, now the King's come! CHORUS. Carle, now the King's come! Auld England held him lang and fast; Carle, now the King's come! Auld Reekie, in her rokelay grey, But, Carle, now the King's come! She's skirling frae the Castle-hill; Carle, now the King's come! "Up, bairns!" she cries, "baith grit and sma', And busk ye for the weapon-shaw! Stand by me, and we'll bang them a'Carle, now the King's come! "Come from Newbattle's ancient spires, Bauld Lothian, with your knights and squires, And match the mettle of your sires- « You're welcome hame, my Montagu! Bring in your hand the young Buccleuch; I'm missing some that I may rue— Carle, now the King's come! An imitation of an old Jacobite ditty, written on the arrival of George IV. in Scotland, August, 1822, and printed as a broadside! "Come, Haddington, the kind and gay, You've graced my causeway mony a day; I'll weep the cause if you should stay Carle, now the King's come! "Come, premier Duke,* and carry doun Frae yonder craig his ancient croun; It's had a lang sleep and a soun'— But, Carle, now the King's come! "Come, Athole, from the hill and wood, Bring down your clansmen like a clud; Come, Morton, show the Douglas' blood, Carle, now the King's come! "Come, Tweeddale, true as sword to sheath, Come, Hopetoun, fear'd on fields of death; Come, Clerk, and give your bugle breath; Carle, now the King's come! "Come, Wemyss, who modest merit aids; Come, Rosebery, from Dalmeny shades; Breadalbane, bring your belted plaids; Carle, now the King's come! "Come, stately Niddrie, auld and true, Girt with the sword that Minden knew; We have o'er few such lairds as you Carle, now the King's come! Cogie, now the King's come! Cogie, now the King's come! I'se be fou and ye's be toom,§ Cogie, now the King's come! PART SECOND. A Hawick gill of mountain dew, Carle, now the King's come! "My trusty Provest, tried and tight, Stand forward for the Good Town's right, There's waur than you been made a knight|| Carle, now the King's come! "My reverend Clergy, look ye say The best of thanksgivings ye ha'e, And warstle for a sunny day Carle, now the King's come! "My Doctors, look that you agree, "King Arthur's grown a common crier,« He's heard in Fife and far Cantire,— "Fic, lads, behold my crest of fire!' Carle, now the King's come! "Saint Abb roars out, I see him pass, Carle, now the King's come!" Cogie, now the King's come! The Duke of Hamilton, the premier duke of Scotland. The Baron of Pennycuik, bound by his tenure to meet the sovereign whenever he or she visits Edinburgh at the Harestone, and there blow three blasts on a horn. The landlord of the Waterloo Hotel, Carie, now the King's come! Come forth each sturdy Burgher's bairn, That dints on wood or clanks on airn, That fires the o'en, or winds the pirnCarle, now the King's come! "Come forward with the Blanket Blue, T Your sires were loyal men and true, As Scotiand's foemen oft might rue Carle, now the King's come! "Scots downa loup, and rin and rave, We're steady folks and something grave, § Empty. The Lord Provost had the agreeable surprise of hearing his health proposed, at the civic banquet given to George IV. in the Parlia ment-House, as "Sir William Arbuthnot, Bart." ¶A Blue Blanket is the standard of the incorporated trades of Edinburgh. We'll keep the causeway firm and brave-“My daughters, come with een sae blue, Carle, now the King's come! "Sir Thomas, thunder from your rock, "Melville, bring out your bands of blue, "And you, who on yon bluidy braes Compell'd the vanquish'd Despot's praise, Rank out-rank out--my gallant Greyst Carle, now the King's come! "Cock o' the North, my Huntly bra', "But yonder come my canty Celts, With durk and pistols at their belts, Thank God, we've still some plaids and kilts Carle, now the King's come! "Lord, how the pibrochs groan and yell! Macdonnell's ta'en the field himsell, Macleod comes branking o'er the fell Carle, now the King's come! "Bend up your bow each Archer spark, "Young Errol, take the sword of state, "Kind cummer, Leith, ye've been mis set, But dinna be upon the fret— Carle, now the King's come! * Sir Thomas Bradford, then commander of the forces in Scotland. ↑ The Scots Greys. Your garlands weave, your blossoms strew; He ne'er saw fairer flowers than you Carle, now the King's come! "What shall we do for the propine→→ Deil care-for that I'se never start, We'll welcome him with Highland heart; Whate'er we have he's get a part Carle, now the King's come! I'll show him mason-work this day- "I'll show him wit, I'll show him lair, |