XXI.

O LEAVE NOVELS.

Tune--"_ Mauchline belles._"

[Who these Mauchline belles were the bard in other verse informs us:--

"Miss Miller is fine, Miss Markland's divine, Miss Smith, she has wit, and Miss Betty is braw; There's beauty and fortune to get with Miss Morton, But Armour's the jewel for me o' them a'."]

O leave novels, ye Mauchline belles, Ye're safer at your spinning-wheel; Such witching books are baited hooks For rakish rooks, like Rob Mossgiel.

Your fine Tom Jones and Grandisons, They make your youthful fancies reel; They heat your brains, and fire your veins, And then you're prey for Rob Mossgiel.

Beware a tongue that's smoothly hung, A heart that warmly seems to feel; That feeling heart but acts a part-- 'Tis rakish art in Rob Mossgiel.

The frank address, the soft caress, Are worse than poison'd darts of steel; The frank address and politesse Are all finesse in Rob Mossgiel.

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