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.