The Remonstrance

Miss Thomson

From a newly married man, to his friend a learned and determined bachelor

Love rules the court, the camp, the ground,
And men below, and heav’n above,
For love is heav’n, and heav’n is love

Lay of the Last Minstrel

Hoot! hoot! that ye, a strappon chiel,
Should gang aboot wi’ hairt o’ steel,
 Sae crouse and clever:
Nay, never glow’r in wild amaze
If ye nae sing in woman’s praise
 Ye’re lost for ever!

To Coventry I fain wad sin ye
To sigh an greet till dool should min ye
 For tankin treason:
Ha! are ye sire an unco’ Turk
That in yor hairt ane doubt can lurk
 O’ woman’s reason?

In my ain Kathi’s twa blue eyes
And bonnie mou’ mair logic lies,
 Than maist heads carry:
List to her cannie word a wee
An’ then hop, step, an’ loup like me,
 At ane ye’ll marry.
Veil, veil yir bonnet, so her grace
My sooth! ye ken t’is na disgrace
 Fit bin to beauty:
Fit screen the sax frae silk wae,
Has aye been deem’d syne Adam’s day
 Man’s bounden duty.

Aibhris a Scottish wife may suit us
Better than Portia wife of Brutus
 Yet a maist own:
That maingst thae men her a’ admire
There’s unco few wad swallow fire,
 Without a poan.

An ana wife o’ bra’ Ceanna
’Gainst Roman Claudius deem’d a sinner,
 Sae douce an’ faithfu’:
Wha struck the glance until her hairt,
And cried, “My poetus tis thy smart,
 Not mine that’s painfu’”

Then laud my frien’, thy chish-ma-claiver,
Maingst learned schemes na longer waver
 Burn, burn thy beuks:
Tak’ a gude wife, an’ read na’ mair,
Save in her eyes, there’s unco hair
 In woman’s leuks

Then sing for aye in woman’s praise
Quick woo yir Jo in dossel lays
 The kirk’s before ye:
Whiles I adore my better pairt
For it! her faithfu’ feeling hairt,
 Is a’ my glory.