Poem by William Simson

Tom Walker in Affliction

1.

In sympathy your servant, Will, 
Begs leave to occupy his quill, 
	Inquiring how ye fen’; 
Since trouble haunts your little ha’, 
Nae doubt ye’ re heartless ane and a’: 
	Nevertheless I ken 
Ye’ re nae sae very scant o’ grace, 
	Whate’er the dispensation 
As e’re set up your squintin’ face 
	An’ fret at tribulation. 
		No, no, Tarn, ye know Tarn, 
			Whate’er’s our present plaint, 
		Sin brocht it nor ocht it 
			To raise our discontent. 

2.

Though life’s a pilgrimage, you know, 
Thick interspersed wi’ weal and woe; 
	For we’re sic feeble creatures; 
Prosperity we downa thole, 
Adversity is on the whole 
	Repugnant to our natures. 
The first sae feeds inherent pride, 
	We clean misken oursel’; 
The last’s a dark, black rolling tide, 
	Whose origin is hell. 
		Kind heaven has given 
			A life devoid of neither, 
		But mix’d them, and fix’d them, 
			In human life together. 

3.

Then why should creatures such as we 
Presume to fret at heaven’s decree, 
	Because on poortith’s brink: 
Sure whether we are great or rich, 
Or mean or poor, it mak’s na much, 
	This life is but a blink; 
Swift are our days, as shuttles fly, 
	Impatient of control, 
Till some auld sexton by and by 
	Maun hide us in a hole. 
		Earth’s treasures, life’s pleasures, 
			Will then avail us little. 
		Scots rhyme then, though prime then, 
			Will no be worth a spittle. 

4.

What signifies the world’s applause, 
Its giddy shouts and loud huzzas? 
	WTiat tho’ the vulgar throng. 
And round our temples bind the bays, 
For youth-corrupting fulsome lays, 
	If virtue calls them wrong? 
One hour of conscious innocence 
	Yields much more real bliss 
Than years of pleasure at expense 
	Or inward nappiness. 
		Now, therefore, Tom, wherefore 
			Should bards devote their skill 
		Inditing and writing 
			Rhymes bordering on ill. 

5.

Hence I’ll abjure the fabled Nine, 
And graciously His aid divine 
	I humbly will implore 
Who taught old David, Israel’s King, 
In heavenly strains to play and sing 
	Jehovah to adore; 
Who brought him up from tending sheep, 
	His early occupation, 
And set him on his throne to keep 
	Watch o’er his elect nation. 
		Attend me, defend me, 
			Thou Being all divine: 
		Inspire me, and fire me, 
			With sentiments sublime.

1. The Emperor Paul’s Flight to Pandemonium

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