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, today, that is loyalty sound,
    tomorrow 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.