File:Poems. By Allan Ramsay (1720) (14592083628).jpg

Identifier: poemsbyallanrams00rams (find matches)
Title: Poems. By Allan Ramsay
Year: 1720 (1720s)
Authors: Ramsay, Allan, 1686-1758
Subjects: English poetry Scottish poetry
Publisher: Edinburgh : printed for the author
Contributing Library: National Library of Scotland
Digitizing Sponsor: National Library of Scotland

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Text Appearing Before Image:
at late were clade wi Snaw and Fron%With her gay Train the Taphian QueenBy Moon-light dances on the Green5She leads, while Nymphs and Graces ling,And trip around the Fairy Ring.Mean Time poor Vulcan hard at Thrift,<3ets mony a fair and heavy lift, 1Whilft rinnen down, his hafF blind Ladsigl&w up the Fire, and thump the.Goads. Now leaye your Fitfted on the Dew,And busk yer fell in Habit new :.Be gratefu* to the guiding Powers,And blythly fpend your eafy Hours,O canny F-—, tutor Time.,And live as langs ye3r in your Prime s5That ill-bred Death has nae RegardJo King or Cottar, or a Laird: C 353 3 As foon a Caftle hell attack,As Waws of Divots roofd wi Thack.Immediately well a take FlightInto the mirk Realms of Night,As Stories gang, with Gaifts to roam,In glowmie Plutos gowfty Dome;Bid fair Gocdday to Pleafure fyneOf bonny Laffes and red Wine* Thfn deem ilk little Care a Crime,Dares waftean Hour of precious Time 5And fi^ce our Lifes fae unco fhort3Enjoy it a, yeye nae mair fort»
Text Appearing After Image:
■ J L 354 3 To fe, #.._ .£—i an Ode. #«&<*» Tare /«™i vite prius feveris arboremyCirca mite filum Tiburis & mania CatilL HOR. O-B could thefe Fields of thine °Bear as in Gaul the juicy Vine, How fweet the bonny Grape woud fhine On Was, where nowYour Apricocksand Branches fine Their Branches bow ? r Since humane Life is but a Blink,Why fliould we its (hort Joys fink ?He difna live that canna link The Glafs about;W£en warmd with Wine, like Men we think,r. And grow mair flout.1 XJbc •t 355 3 The cauidrife Cariies clogd wi* Care,Ji/Vha gathering Gear gang hyte and gare,;f ramnd wi Red, they rant and rair Like mirthfu Men;tt foothly fhaws them they can fpare A Rowth to fpend. What Soger when with Wine hes bungDid eer complain he had been dung,Or of his Toil, or empty Spung? Na, oer his Glafs,Nought but braw. Deeds employ his Tongue, Or fome fweet Lafs. Yet Trouth, tis proper we fhould fixntOur fells to a frefh modrate Pint;Why (houid we (the blyth Bleffing) mint To

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