address to wm. tytler, esq., of woodhouselee
  with an impression of the author's portrait.
  revered defender of beauteous stuart,
  of stuart, a name once respected;
  a name, which to love was the mark of a true heart,
  but now 'tis despis'd and neglected.
  tho' something like moisture conglobes in my eye,
  let no one misdeem me disloyal;
  a poor friendless wand'rer may well claim a sigh,
  still more if that wand'rer were royal.
  my fathers that name have rever'd on a throne:
  my fathers have fallen to right it;
  those fathers would spurn their degenerate son,
  that name should he scoffingly slight it.
  still in prayers for king george i most heartily join,
  the queen, and the rest of the gentry:
  be they wise, be they foolish, is nothing of mine;
  their title's avow'd by my country.
  but why of that epocha make such a fuss,
  that gave us th' electoral stem?
  if bringing them over was lucky for us,
  i'm sure 'twas as lucky for them.
  but, loyalty, truce! we're on dangerous ground;
  who knows how the fashions may alter?
  the doctrine, to-day, that is loyalty sound,
  to-morrow may bring us a halter!
  i send you a trifle, a head of a bard,
  a trifle scarce worthy your care;
  but accept it, good sir, as a mark of regard,
  sincere as a saint's dying prayer.
  now life's chilly evening dim shades on your eye,
  and ushers the long dreary night:
  but you, like the star that athwart gilds the sky,
  your course to the latest is bright.