LVIII.

ON SEEING THE BEAUTIFUL SEAT OF

LORD GALLOWAY.

[This, and the three succeeding Epigrams, are hasty squibs thrown amid the tumult of a contested election, and must not be taken as the fixed and deliberate sentiments of the poet, regarding an ancient and noble house.]

What dost thou in that mansion fair?-- Flit, Galloway, and find Some narrow, dirty, dungeon cave, The picture of thy mind!

* * * * *

ON THE SAME.

No Stewart art thou, Galloway, The Stewarts all were brave; Besides, the Stewarts were but fools, Not one of them a knave.

* * * * *

ON THE SAME.

Bright ran thy line, O Galloway, Thro' many a far-fam'd sire! So ran the far-fam'd Roman way, So ended in a mire.

* * * * *