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THE POEMS OF BURNS.

167

TO JOHN TAYLOR.

With Pegasus upon a day,
Apollo weary flying,
Through frosty hills the journey lay,
On foot the way was plying.

Poor slip-shod giddy Pegasus
Was but a sorry walker;
To Vulcan then Apollo goes,
To get a frosty calker.

Obliging Vulcan fell to work,
Threw by his coat and bonnet,
And did Sol's business in a crack;
Sol paid him with a sonnet.

Ye Vulcan's sons of Wanlockhead,
Pity my sad disaster;
My Pegasus is poorly shod—
I'll pay you like my master.

TO ———.

Mossgiel — 1786.
Sir,
Yours this moment I unseal,
And faith I am gay and hearty!
To tell the truth an' shame the Deil
I am as fu' as Bartie:

But foorsday Sir, my promise leal
Expect me o' your party,
If on a beastie I can speel,
Or hurl in a cartie.R. B.

THERE'S NAETHIN LIKE THE HONEST NAPPY.

There's naethin like the honest nappy!
Whaur'll ye e'er see men sae happy,
Or women sonsie, saft an' sappy,
'Tween morn an' morn,
As them wha like to taste the drappie
In glass or horn.

I've seen me daez't upon a time;
I scarce could wink or see a styme;
Just ae hauf muchkin does me prime,
Ought less is little,
Then back I rattle on the rhyme
As gleg's a whittle!

FRAGMENT.

Now health forsakes that angel face,
Nae mair my Dearie smiles;
Pale sickness withers ilka grace,
And a' my hopes beguiles.

The cruel powers reject the prayer
I hourly mak for thee;
Ye Heavens, how great is my despair,
How can I see him die!

EPIGRAM ON A NOTED COXCOMB.

Light lay the earth on Billy's breast,
His chicken heart so tender;
But build a castle on his head,
His scull will prop it under.