ENGLISH BARDS, AND SCOTCH REVIEWERS.
339
Thus having said, the kilted Goddess kist
Her son, and vanished in a Scottish mist.[1]
Then prosper, Jeffrey! pertest of the train[2]
Whom Scotland pampers with her fiery grain!
Whatever blessing waits a genuine Scot,530
In double portion swells thy glorious lot;
For thee Edina culls her evening sweets,
And showers their odours on thy candid sheets,
Whose Hue and Fragrance to thy work adhere—
This scents its pages, and that gilds its rear.[3]
Lo! blushing Itch, coy nymph, enamoured grown,
- ↑ I ought to apologise to the worthy Deities for introducing a new Goddess with short petticoats to their notice: but, alas! what was to be done? I could not say Caledonia's Genius, it being well known there is no genius to be found from Clackmannan to Caithness; yet without supernatural agency, how was Jeffrey to be saved? The national "Kelpies" are too unpoetical, and the "Brownies" and "gude neighbours" (spirits of a good disposition) refused to extricate him. A Goddess, therefore, has been called for the purpose; and great ought to be the gratitude of Jeffrey, seeing it is the only communication he ever held, or is likely to hold, with anything heavenly.
- ↑ [Lines 528-539 appeared for the first time in the Fifth Edition.]
- ↑ See the colour of the back binding of the Edinburgh Review.
