address to wm. tytler, esq., of woodhouselee
with an impression of the author's portrait.
revered defender of beauteous stuart,
of stuart, a name once respected;
a name, which to love was the mark of a true heart,
but now 'tis despis'd and neglected.
tho' something like moisture conglobes in my eye,
let no one misdeem me disloyal;
a poor friendless wand'rer may well claim a sigh,
still more if that wand'rer were royal.
my fathers that name have rever'd on a throne:
my fathers have fallen to right it;
those fathers would spurn their degenerate son,
that name should he scoffingly slight it.
still in prayers for king george i most heartily join,
the queen, and the rest of the gentry:
be they wise, be they foolish, is nothing of mine;
their title's avow'd by my country.
but why of that epocha make such a fuss,
that gave us th' electoral stem?
if bringing them over was lucky for us,
i'm sure 'twas as lucky for them.
but, loyalty, truce! we're on dangerous ground;
who knows how the fashions may alter?
the doctrine, to-day, that is loyalty sound,
to-morrow may bring us a halter!
i send you a trifle, a head of a bard,
a trifle scarce worthy your care;
but accept it, good sir, as a mark of regard,
sincere as a saint's dying prayer.
now life's chilly evening dim shades on your eye,
and ushers the long dreary night:
but you, like the star that athwart gilds the sky,
your course to the latest is bright.