Discord, fly on sooty pinions,
To your gloomy dire dominions;
For LAURIE, now our potent Lord,
Engageth all to sweet concord.
Let palms of honour wreathe his brow;
Laurels to him are justly due:
His mild command and splendid ray,
Dispels our clouds, and clears our day.
The muse, herself, beneath his wing,
Feels all the ardour of the spring:
In strains sincere she swells each note,
While echo bursts from ev'ry throat.
The graces wait upon his train,
All hail the sweets of his domain:
Refulgent beams, of divine birth,
Descend from heav'n to bless our earth.
But who shall represent, with grace,
Edina in the senate place,
And fill that elevated station,
With all a patriot's reputation?
Replies the Good-man of the city,
'I think it would be much a pity,
'That we should favour the petition
'Of any man of mere ambition:
'I hope we ne'er shall be so shameless,
'To act like towns that shall be nameless:
'Let it be our peculiar praise,
'To 'scape the censure of these days,
'To scorn the low intriguing spirit,
'And give our voice unask'd to merit.
'Birth, fortune, parts, at once conspire,
'To form the patriot we desire;
'Nor need conjecture wander far hence,
'Edina cries—My son Sir LAURENCE.'
But stop, O muse! cease to digress,
Come, sing the Good Town's happiness.
Arches superb, from hill to hill,
Rise by the hands of Deacon Mill:
Our royal Charles into this station,
Receives a second restoration,
While corporations, of the town,
Lay all their strifes and jarring down.
To join the silver Frith of Forth,
New Ed'nburgh rises on the north,
And structures grand start all around;
Which LAURIE's praises loud resound.
Let London brick-walls hide their head,
Nor e'er compare with north the Tweed;
Where buildings may invite a court,
As formerly, now to resort.
May grand canals join Forth and Clyde,
May trade resort and here reside;
May Scotia's REIKIE always flourish,
And LAURIE long her children nourish,
May better bards, his works applaud,
It will give pleasure unto CLAUD.