« הקודםהמשך »
THE KING'S BIRTH DAY AT AVON PRINTFIELD, 1792.
For the Bee.
I've cause to tear ;
Sings’t ilka year.
Ye senseless coof;
'S a body's loof.
The theme wad hit;
Bi a bull's fit!
Gif I draw breath,
As shure as death.
An' nae mair snarl'd;
For a' the warld.
I tak mysell;
Ye need na tell.
We canna sleep;
By day lighi peep.
Lang. may.we bruik sic happy_hours,
To busk, our winnocks ; Content an' this be still our dow'rs,
Wi' claise an' bannocks. Here rowth o' fow'rs by nature grow, Nae art's requir'd to gar them dow; Ye gods! what blessings ye bestow
On thankless man ;
As lang's ye can.
An' flag staff baith;
But good hale claith,
For a' are happy;
Ay hale an' cracky.
Only to see't ;
Better to prie't.
Their healths gae roun. An' patriotic chiels beside, That lo'e auld Britain's yird and tide, Our breast fill'd fou o' loyal pride,
Their fealty shaws,
Ring wi' huzzas.
Loud touts his fame;
An'ca't his hame.
You Lunin town an’Embrugh baith,
An social be;
A very flee.
An' cheary too. As soon's' we get our mid.day meal, O'bread an' butter, milk or kail, Then Thanks that ken na how to fail,
On king's birth day, Upon a floor weel laid wi' dail,
Hard reels away. Keen Frazer rúbs his fiddle strings, His elback fees as it ħad wings; Rae at the bass wi' vigour clings,
An' weel he plays, While voices at the punch bowl sings
King George's praise. The damsels clean, an' trig, an' fair, Frisk thro' the reels wi' rural air, Nae wanton look, nor bosom bare,
To temp the younkers, Here flesh and blude may safely stare,
As if at Blunker's Then young, an' auld, an' middle age, Far frae their cares quite thrang engige, Whilst harmless mirth an' pleasure rago,
How great the blits! Hech! life wad be a funny stage
Were't ay like this. Sic pleasures maun through time gie way, Nane need expeck they'll last for ay i The Lass that opes the yetts o' day,
Wi' faithfu' heart, Keeks in wi’ halesome smiling ray,
An' bids us part. Frae her sweet face nae mair we crave, But just ae dance that dings the lave, Bab-at-the-bouster, then we have,
Withouten fail, Where'a" partakes, baith gay and gravey
syne we skailo An ugly old fellow of the place.
Now Musie ye hae done fu' weel,
An' view its tap;
We'll tak a nap.
Come in auld carle, I'll stir my fire,
l'll mak it bleeze a bonny flame;
Sad party särife o'erturu'd my ha',
Cetera desunt. * Or gorcocks. An explanation of this word will be very oblicing.
ANECDOTES OF ARTEDI, THE FAMOUS SWEDISH NATURALIST,
WITH SOME ACCOUNT OF A NEW EDITION OF HIS WORKS BY M. WALBAUM.
KE public are indebted to Linnæus for the following interesting memoirs of his friend and fellow disciple Artedi, a name well known to the lovers of natural history. These extracts are made from a Latin edition of Artedi's works, just published by Dr Walbaum of Lubeck, in three volumes quarto, with plates. These anecdotes are written with that warmth which was natural to Linnæus, and adds one more to the numerous list of examples that are before the public, of the hard fate that too often marks the private life of philosophers.
John Artedi was born in the year 1705, in the province of Angermania in Sweden. He inherited from nature an ardent passion for all branches of natural history, but he excelled particularly in what respects fishes.-In 1724, he came to study at the university of Upsal.“ In 1928,” says Linnæus,“ I came from Lund to Upsal. I wished to devote myself to medicine. I inquired who, at that university, excelled most for his knowledge; every one named Artedi. I was impatient to see him. I found him pale, and in great distress for the loss of his father, with his thin hair neglected. He resembled the portrait of Ray, the naturalist. His judgement was ripe, his thoughts profound, his manners simple, his virtues antique. The conversation turned upon stones, plants, animals ; I was enchanted with his observations, equally ingenious and new; for
very first, he was not afraid to communicate them to me with the utmost frankness. I desired his friendship, he aked mine. From that moment we formed a friendship,