And, O! what deep important stare

Hae a' the stick-armed forces,

On guard this day.

XXXVIII.

Now Byron here himsel' would fail,
And Shakspere's muse would sink,
To justice do to this same tale,

And tell it o'er in clink:

What shouts came pourin' frae the ring,
How ilka birkie strained,

How at the hindmost bout, lang King

Cam' in wi' strength weel hained,

Like shot that day.

XXXIX.

And loud as winds and waters met
In Winter's mad convention,
A moon-struck congregation set
On schemes of sea-extension.
The crowd brak for the winnin' post,
(O! grand important spat,)

And ran as life had been the cost;

Nor did they ken for what

It was that day.

XL.

O, sirs! weel Robin Burns might say,

"Mankind's an unco squad;"

A wee thing lifts them up the brae,
A wee thing makes them sad.
The man they idolise this day,
The next they'll pelt wi' mud,
And stain his name wi' calumny,
And e'en would shed his blood,

Some ither day.

XLI.

The second race might be our sang,
But 'twere a subject tame,
Just as the Psalms of David gang,
"Another of the same."

An' when 'twas owre, how through the yets
And slaps baith young and auld,

Like to sae mony gimmer-pets

Frae some new-opened fauld,

Did break that day.

XLII.

An' how some crackit, lang and keen,

'Bout rinners and the race;

How wooers set the tryst at e'en,
And named the time and place;

How grannies led their oyes in han',
Wi' muckle dauds o' snap;
And wee anes, daubit wi' blackman,
Auld-farrant out the lap

Did keek that day.

E

XLIII.

And we might paint auld Killie town,
Would Phoebus gi'e's a heeze;
When ilka change-house made a soun',
Just like a byke o' bees;
But 'twould be folly great for folk
Withouten legs to rin;

Or bats an' owls at twal o'clock

To try t' outstare the sun,

On simmer day.

XLIV.

But some will sing, and even preach,
Lang after they hae dune,

And lest the same dry road we reach,
We'll quat, or change the tune.
May Killie's sons and bonny dames

Be strangers lang to hardships,
And better luck attend their aims,
Than ever did my bardship's

By night or day.

BEWILDERED AMONG CHURCHES, AND CONVERSATION WITH A "CHARACTER."

In passing through life's busy street,

What various minds we chance to meet !

I.

ONE afternoon, as carelessly I strolled

Through Stirling, ancient, and romantic town,
Pondering on days when Fortha's waters rolled
Above the rock's now castellated crown,
And merry mermaids would their gambols hold
Whence cannons look so sulkily adown,
And pretty little whales took mammy's drop,
Smacking their lips, upon Demyat's* top.

* Dummait hill is situated on the northern bank of the Forth, nearly opposite Stirling. From its conical summit may be seen part of twelve counties, comprehending a view as romantic and -beautiful, as various and extensive. Macneill, in his charming poem, the "Links o' Forth," exclaims

Or fragrant whar, at openin' day,

The whins bloom sweet on Aichill brae,

There, whan inspired by lofty lay,

He'd tak' his flight,

II.

Ah! those were times, the good old times said I,
Which all our efforts never can remand,

I felt at once as if about to cry,

(An onion garden was perhaps at hand,)
When bump my precious beaver went awry,
For lo! a church had ordered me to "stand,"
But not "deliver," though, we know that they,
The churches namely, do so every day.

III.

Of course, obliged to take another route,
I got along some twenty yards or so,
And studious still, again when looking out,
Egad! I found no farther I could go
In that direction, almost led to doubt

My senses, looked a second time, and lo!"
Another church; I muttered, there has been
A shower of these things hereabouts, I ween.

And towerin' climb, wi' spirits gay,

Demyit's height.

Dunmait, or Dun-ma-chit, is said to signify the hill of the good prospect. But from Din, Brit., Dun, Gael., a height, a hill; mai, Brit., magh, (gh mute,) Gael., that is extended, an open field, a plain, a level country; and Ith, Brit., 1th, or Ad, Gael., what is nutriment, grain, corn in its natural state; Dun-mai-th, Dun-ma-ad, may denominate the height of the corny vale, the hill of the fertile champaign. Kennedy's Glenochil: Edinburgh, Constable & Co., 1810.-(Vol. i., p. 202.)