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.