JUVENILE VERSES. 591 



(SONG OF THE EDINBURGH ACADEMICIAN.) [1848.] 



IF ony here has got an ear, 



He'd better tak' a haud o' me, 

 Or I'll begin, wi' roarin' din, 



To cheer our old Academy. 



Dear old Academy, 

 Queer old Academy, 

 A merry lot we were, I wot, 

 When at the old Academy. 



There's some may think me crouse wi' drink, 

 And some may think it mad o' me, 



But ither some will gladly come 

 And cheer our old Academy. 



Some set their hopes on Kings and Popes, 



But, o' the sons of Adam, he 

 Was first, without the smallest doubt, 



That built the first Academy. 



Let Pedants seek for scraps of Greek, 



Their lingo to Macadamize ; 

 Gie me the sense, without pretence, 



That comes o' Scots Academies. 



Let scholars all, both grit and small, 

 Of Learning mourn the sad demise ; 



That's as they think, but we will drink 

 Good luck to Scots Academies. 



SPECIMEN OF TRANSLATION FROM THE AJAX OF SOPHOCLES. 



1852. 



(Lines 1192-1222.) 



HAD he first been swept away, 

 Through air by wild winds tossed, 



