THE POET'S THANKS TO THE ARCHERS,

ON BEING ADMITTED INTO THEIR ROYAL COMPANY.

THE restless mind of man ne'er tires,
To please his favourite defires,
He chiefly that to fame aspires,

With foul enlarg'd grafps with delight
At every favour which conspires
To place him in a fairer light.
Such are the followers of the nine,
Who aim at glory for reward,
Whofe flowing fancies brighter fhine,
When from the best they meet regard.

I, not the least now of that train,
Who frae the Royal Archers gain
Applause, while lovely ladies deign

To take me too beneath their care;
Then tho' I boast, I am not vain,

Thus guarded by the brave and fair : For which kind fate to me this day, First to the Powers Supreme I bow,

And next my gratitude I pay,

Brave fons of Caledon to you.

ALLAN RAMSAY

1728.

ON SEEING THE ARCHERS DIVERTING THEMSELVES AT THE BUTS AND ROVERS.

AT THE DESIRE OF SIR WILLIAM BENNET.

HIS DEMAND.

"THE Rovers and the Buts you faw,
"And him who gives defpotic law;
"In numbers fing what you have seen,
"Both in the garden and the green;
"And how with wine they clos'd the day,
"In harmless toafts, both blyth and gay :
"This to remember be 't thy care,
"How they did juftice to the fair."

THE ANSWER.

SIR, I with much delight beheld
The Royal Archers on the field;
Their garb, their manner, and their game,
Wakes in the mind a martial flame.
To fee them draw the bended yew,

Brings bygane ages to our view,

When burnish'd fwords and whizzing flanes
Forbade the Norwegans and Danes,

Romans and Saxons, to invade

A nation of nae foes afraid;

Whase virtue and true valour fav'd

Them bravely from their b'ing enflav'd :
Efteeming 't greater not to be,

Than lofe their darling liberty.

How much unlike !-but mum for that,
Some beaux may fnarl if we should prat.
When av❜rice, luxury, and ease,
A tea-fac'd generation please,

Whase pithless limbs in filks o'er-clad,
Scarce bear the lady-handed lad
Frae 's looking-glafs into the chair,
Which bears him to blaflum the fair,
Wha by their actions come to ken
Sic are but in appearance men.
Thefe ill could bruik, without a beild,
To fleep in boots upon the field;
Yet rife as glorious as the fun,
To end what greatly they begun.
Nor could it fuit their taste and pride
To eat an ox boil'd in his hide;
Or quaff pure element, ah me!
Without ream, fugar, and bohea.

Hail, noble ghofts of each brave fire!
Whose fauls glow'd with a god-like fire :
If you 're to guardian posts affign'd,
And can with greatness warm the mind;

Breathe

Breathe manly ardours in your race,
Communicate that martial

grace,

By which thro' ages you maintain'd
The Caledonian rights unftain'd;

That when our nation makes demands,

She may ne'er want brave hearts and hands.

Here, Sir, I must your pardon afk,
If I have started from my task;
For when the fancy takes a flight,
We seldom ken where it will light.

But we return to view the band,
Under the regular command
Of ane* wha arbitrarly fways,
And makes it law whate'er he says:
Him honour and true reafon rule,
Which makes fubmiffion to his will

Nae flav'ry, but a juft delight,

Whiles he takes care to keep them right;

Wha never lets a caufe depend

Till the purfuer's power 's at end;
But, like a minister of state,

He speaks, and there's no more debate :
Best government, were fubjects fure
To find a prince fit for fic pow'r.

* Mr. David Drummond, prefident of the council.

But

But drop we cafes not defir'd. To paint the Archers now retir'd From healthfu' fport, to cheerfu' wine, Stength to recruit, and wit refine; Where innocent and blythfome tale Permits nae fournefs to prevail : Here, Sir, you never fail to please, Wha can, in phrase adapt with ease, Draw to the life a' kind of fowks, Proud fhaups, dull coofs, and gabbling gowks, Gielaingers, and each greedy wight, You place them in their proper light; And when true merit comes in view, You fully pay them what 's their due.

While circling wheels the hearty glass,
Well-flavour'd with fome lovely lafs;
Or with the bonny fruitfu' dame,
Wha brightens in the nuptial flame :

My lord, your toast, the prefes cries;
To lady Charlotte, he replies:

Now, Sir, let's hear your beauty bright;
To lady Jean, returns the knight.

To Hamilton a health gaes round,
And one to Eglinton is crown'd.

How sweet they tafte!-Now, Sir, you fay;
Then drink to her that 's far away,

The