Collected, Harry stood awee,
Then open’d out his arm, man;
[Footnote 1: William Dunbar, W. S., of the Crochallan Fencibles,
a convivial club.]
His Lordship sat wi’ ruefu’ e’e,
And ey’d the gathering storm, man:
Like wind-driven hail it did assail’
Or torrents owre a lin, man:
The Bench sae wise, lift up their eyes,
Half-wauken’d wi’ the din, man.