_Peggy_. Alake, poor pris'ner!--Jenny, that's no fair, That ye'll no let the wee thing take the air: Haste, let him out; we'll tent as well's we can, Gif he be Bauldy's, or poor Roger's man. _Jenny_. Anither time's as good; for see the sun Is right far up, and we're not yet begun To freath the graith: if canker'd Madge, our aunt, Come up the burn, she'll gie's a wicked rant; But when we've done, I'll tell you a' my mind; For this seems true--nae lass can be unkind. [_Exeunt_. [1] Howm: holm. [2] Claes: clothes. [3] 'Lift:' sky. [4] 'Linn:' a waterfall. [5] 'Blate:' bashful. [6] 'Pensylie:' sprucely. [7] 'A-jee:' to one side. [8] 'Owrelay:' cravat. [9] 'Dorty:' pettish. [10] 'Dawted wean:' spoiled child. [11] 'Tarrows at its meat:' refuses its food. [12] 'Feckless:' silly. [13] 'Orp:' fret. [14] 'Glowers:' stares. [15] 'Barlichoods:' cross-moods. [16] 'Skaith:' harm. [17] 'Feil:' many. [18] 'Fasheous:' troublesome. [19] 'Scads itself wi' brue:' scalds itself with broth. [20] 'Deil gaes o'er John Wabster:' all goes wrong. [21] 'Toom:' empty. [22] 'Speat:' land-flood. [23] 'A dyvour:' bankrupt. [24] 'Mows:' jest. [25] 'Rowth:' plenty. [26] 'Maiks:' mates. [27] 'Hag-abag:' huckaback. [28] 'White bigonets:' linen caps or coifs. [29] 'Dozins:' dwindles. [30] 'Airt:' quarter. We come now to another cluster of minor poets,--such as Robert Dodsley, who rose, partly through Pope's influence, from a footman to be a respectable bookseller, and who, by the verses entitled 'The Parting Kiss,'-- 'One fond kiss before we part, Drop a tear and bid adieu; Though we sever, my fond heart, Till we meet, shall pant for you,' &c.-- seems to have suggested to Burns his 'Ae fond kiss, and then we sever;' --John Brown, author of certain tragedies and other works, including the once famous 'Estimate of the Manners and Principles of Modern Times,' of which Cowper says-- 'The inestimable Estimate of Brown Rose like a paper kite and charmed the town; But measures planned and executed well Shifted the wind that raised it, and it fell:' and who went mad and died by his own hands;--John Gilbert Cooper, author of a fine song to his wife, one stanza of which has often been quoted:-- 'And when with envy Time transported Shall think to rob us of our joys; You'll in your girls again be courted, And I'll go wooing in my boys;'--