No{t} B--the Water was a fine Blue silvered and the Mountains a dark purple, the Sun setting aslant behind them--meantime the head of ben Lomond was covered with a rich Pink Cloud. We did not ascend Ben Lomond--the price being very high and a half a day of rest being quite acceptable. We were up at 4 this morning and have walked to breakfast 15 Miles through two Tremendous Glens--at the end of the first there is a place called rest and be thankful which we took for an Inn--it was nothing but a Stone and so we were cheated into 5 more Miles to Breakfast--I have just been bathing in Loch Fyne a salt water Lake opposite the Windows,--quite pat and fresh but for the cursed Gad flies--damn 'em they have been at me ever since I left the Swan and two necks.[74] All gentle folks who owe a grudge To any living thing Open your ears and stay your trudge Whilst I in dudgeon sing. The Gadfly he hath stung me sore-- O may he ne'er sting you! But we have many a horrid bore He may sting black and blue. Has any here an old gray Mare With three legs all her store, O put it to her Buttocks bare And straight she'll run on four. Has any here a Lawyer suit Of 1743, Take Lawyer's nose and put it to't And you the end will see. Is there a Man in Parliament Dumbfounder'd in his speech, O let his neighbour make a rent And put one in his breech. O Lowther how much better thou Hadst figur'd t'other day When to the folks thou mad'st a bow And hadst no more to say. If lucky Gadfly had but ta'en His seat upon thine A--e And put thee to a little pain To save thee from a worse. Better than Southey it had been, Better than Mr. D----, Better than Wordsworth too, I ween, Better than Mr. V----. Forgive me pray good people all For deviating so-- In spirit sure I had a call-- And now I on will go. Has any here a daughter fair Too fond of reading novels, Too apt to fall in love with care And charming Mister Lovels, O put a Gadfly to that thing She keeps so white and pert-- I mean the finger for the ring, And it will breed a wort. Has any here a pious spouse Who seven times a day Scolds as King David pray'd, to chouse And have her holy way-- O let a Gadfly's little sting Persuade her sacred tongue That noises are a common thing, But that her bell has rung. And as this is the summum bo- num of all conquering, I leave "withouten wordes mo" The Gadfly's little sting. [Inverary, July 18.]