A
DREAM
.
Thoughts
,
words
and
deeds
,
the
Statute
blames
with
reason
;
But
surely
Dreams
were
ne'er
indicted
Treason
.
ON
READING
,
IN
THE
PUBLIC
PAPERS
,
THE
LAUREATE'S
ODE
,
WITH
THE
OTHER
PARADE
OF
JUNE
4th
,
1786
,
THE
AUTHOR
WAS
NO
SOONER
DROPT
ASLEEP
,
THAN
HE
IMAGINED
HIMSELF
TRANSPORTED
TO
THE
BIRTHDAY
LEVEE
;
AND
,
IN
HIS
DREAMING
FANCY
,
MADE
THE
FOLLOWING
ADDRESS
.
I.
GUID-MORNIN
to
your
MAJESTY
!
May
heaven
augment
your
blisses
,
On
ev'ry
new
Birth-day
ye
see
,
A
humble
Bardie
wishes
!
My
Bardship
here
,
at
your
Levee
,
On
sic
a
day
as
this
is
,
Is
sure
an
uncouth
sight
to
see
,
Amang
thae
Birth-day
dresses
Sae
fine
this
day
.
II
.
I
see
ye're
complimented
thrang
,
By
many
a
lord
an'
lady
;
"
God
save
the
King
"
's
a
cukoo
sang
That's
unco
easy
said
ay
:
The
Poets
too
,
a
venal
gang
,
Wi'
rhymes
weel-turn'd
an'
ready
,
Wad
gar
you
trow
ye
ne'er
do
wrang
,
But
ay
unerring
steady
,
On
sic
a
day
.
III
.
For
me
!
before
a
Monarch's
face
,
Ev'n
there
I
winna
flatter
;
For
neither
Pension
,
Post
,
nor
Place
,
Am
I
your
humble
debtor
:
So
,
nae
reflection
on
YOUR
GRACE
,
Your
Kingship
to
bespatter
;
There's
monie
waur
been
o'
the
Race
,
And
aiblins
ane
been
better
Than
You
this
day
.
IV
.
'Tis
very
true
,
my
sovereign
King
,
My
skill
may
weel
be
doubted
;
But
Facts
are
cheels
that
winna
ding
,
An'
downa
be
disputed
:
Your
royal
nest
,
beneath
Your
wing
,
Is
e'en
right
reft
an'
clouted
,
And
now
the
third
part
o'
the
string
,
An'
less
,
will
gang
about
it
Than
did
ae
day
.
V.
Far
be't
frae
me
that
I
aspire
To
blame
your
Legislation
,
Or
say
,
ye
wisdom
want
,
or
fire
,
To
rule
this
mighty
nation
;
But
faith
!
I
muckle
doubt
,
my
SIRE
,
Ye've
trusted
'Ministration
,
To
chaps
,
wha
,
in
a
barn
or
byre
,
Wad
better
fill'd
their
station
Than
courts
yon
day
.
VI
.
And
now
Ye've
gien
auld
Britain
peace
,
Her
broken
shins
to
plaister
;
Your
fair
taxation
does
her
fleece
,
Till
she
has
scarce
a
tester
:
For
me
,
thank
God
,
my
life's
a
lease
,
Nae
bargain
wearing
faster
,
Or
faith
!
I
fear
,
that
,
wi'
the
geese
,
I
shortly
boost
to
pasture
I'
the
craft
some
day
.
VII
.
I'm
no
mistrusting
Willie
Pit
,
When
taxes
he
enlarges
,
(
An'
Will's
a
true
guid
fallow's
get
,
A
Name
not
Envy
spairges
)
That
he
intends
to
pay
your
debt
,
An'
lessen
a'
your
charges
;
But
,
G
—
d-sake
!
let
nae
saving-fit
Abridge
your
bonie
Barges
An'
Boats
this
day
.
VIII
.
Adieu
,
my
LIEGE
!
may
Freedom
geck
Beneath
your
high
protection
;
An'
may
Ye
rax
Corruption's
neck
,
And
gie
her
for
dissection
!
But
since
I'm
here
,
I'll
no
neglect
,
In
loyal
,
true
affection
,
To
pay
your
QUEEN
,
with
due
respect
,
My
fealty
an'
fubjection
This
great
Birth-day
.
IX
.
Hail
,
Majesty
most
Excellent
!
While
Nobles
strive
to
please
Ye
,
Will
Ye
accept
a
Compliment
,
A
simple
Bardie
gies
Ye
?
Thae
bonie
Bairntime
,
Heav'n
has
lent
,
Still
higher
may
they
heeze
Ye
In
bliss
,
till
Fate
some
day
is
sent
,
For
ever
to
release
Ye
Frae
Care
that
day
.
X.
For
you
,
young
Potentate
o'
W
—
,
I
tell
your
Highness
fairly
,
Down
Pleasure's
stream
,
wi'
swelling
sails
,
I'm
tauld
ye're
driving
rarely
;
But
some
day
ye
may
gnaw
your
nails
,
An'
curse
your
folly
sairly
,
That
e'er
ye
brak
Diana's
pales
,
Or
rattl'd
dice
wi'
Charlie
By
night
or
day
.
XI
.
Yet
aft
a
ragged
Cowte's
been
known
,
To
mak
a
noble
Aiver
;
So
,
ye
may
dousely
fill
a
Throne
,
For
a'
their
clish-ma-claver
:
There
,
Him
at
Agincourt
wha
shone
,
Few
better
were
or
braver
;
And
yet
,
wi'
funny
,
queer
Sir
Sir
John
Falstaff
,
Vide
Shakespeare
.
John
,
He
was
an
unco
shaver
For
monie
a
day
.
XII
.
For
you
,
right
rev'rend
O
—
—
,
Nane
sets
the
lawn-sleeve
sweeter
,
Altho'
a
ribban
at
your
lug
Wad
been
a
dress
compleater
:
As
ye
disown
yon
paughty
dog
,
That
bears
the
Keys
of
Peter
,
Then
swith
!
an'
get
a
wife
to
hug
,
Or
trouth
!
ye'll
stain
the
Mitre
Some
luckless
day
,
XIII
.
Young
,
royal
TARRY-BREEKS
,
I
learn
,
Ye've
lately
come
athwart
her
;
A
glorious
Alluding
to
the
Newspaper
account
of
a
certain
royal
Sailor's
Amour
.
Galley
,
stem
and
stern
,
Weel
rigg'd
for
Venus
barter
;
But
first
hang
out
that
she'll
discern
Your
hymeneal
Charter
,
Then
heave
aboard
your
grapple
airn
,
An'
,
large
upon
her
quarter
,
Come
full
that
day
.
XIV
.
Ye
lastly
,
bonie
blossoms
a'
,
Ye
royal
Lasses
dainty
,
Heav'n
mak
you
guid
as
weel
as
braw
,
An'
gie
you
lads
a
plenty
:
But
sneer
na
British-boys
awa
;
For
King's
are
unco
scant
ay
,
An'
German-Gentles
are
but
sma'
,
They're
better
just
than
want
ay
On
onie
day
.
XV.
God
bless
you
a'
!
consider
now
,
Ye're
unco
muckle
dautet
;
But
ere
the
course
o'
life
be
through
,
It
may
be
bitter
sautet
:
An'
I
hae
seen
their
coggie
fou
,
That
yet
hae
tarrow't
at
it
,
But
or
the
day
was
done
,
I
trow
,
The
laggen
they
hae
clautet
Fu'
clean
that
day
.