Ye Powers of peace, and peaceful song,
Look down with gracious eyes;
And bless auld Coila, large and long,
With multiplying joys;
Lang may she stand to prop the land,
The flow'r of ancient nations;
And Burnses spring, her fame to sing,
To endless generations!




Song--Willie Chalmers

Mr. Chalmers, a gentleman in Ayrshire, a particular friend of mine, asked
me to write a poetic epistle to a young lady, his Dulcinea. I had seen her,
but was scarcely acquainted with her, and wrote as follows:--

Wi' braw new branks in mickle pride,
And eke a braw new brechan,
My Pegasus I'm got astride,
And up Parnassus pechin;
Whiles owre a bush wi' donwward crush,
The doited beastie stammers;
Then up he gets, and off he sets,
For sake o' Willie Chalmers.

I doubt na, lass, that weel ken'd name
May cost a pair o' blushes;
I am nae stranger to your fame,