BRAVE generous Will, I cannot well rehearse
How pleased I was to read your lofty verse;
So eloquent that every line did smell
Of Tully, and the Heliconian well.
But while both wit and fancy you shew forth,
The praise you give me far exceeds my worth;
Oh! how unequal is the match indeed,
Betwixt your young and my old hoary head;
Your blood is warm, your fancy's on the stage,
This is your spring, but winter of my age,
My muse cools like my blood, and still grows worse,
Yours tours aloft like the Pegasean horse.
Kind and stout patriots you are I vow,
With your brave club to catch the gypsy crew;
Your names should be engraven on marble stones,
For clearing Tweeddale of these vagabonds.
Had Cowie not been known, I do protest
Kind Jonas had been captive with the rest,
And sent to prison, if we should allow
All to be rogues that have the gypsy hue.
Yet, if I live, expect a better tale,
When we meet blithe at Lady Effie's ale.