An Address Congratulatory

to that incomparable Pair,
Mr & Mrs Stewart, by Mr Piggott
Professor in the University of Edinburgh.

Come, Muse, and strike the trans-Atlantick Lyre,
Temp'ring with Learning thy Poetick Fire;
For where can Muses find a better Host,
Than on Charles-river, or on Boston's coast?
Here Art and Reason, Grace and Knowledge join
To make a Welcome for the Sacred Nine.
I from old England to New-England come,
'Neath Clio's aegis find a second Home;
For what Reposit'ry of antient Knowledge
Excells those learned Pates of Harvard-Colledge?
Across The Yard I walk in awefull Fear
As one fam'd Schollar, then another's near:
I make a Leg, I bow, I hasty touch
Th' obsequious Forelock, for they know so much.
God-like they move, but human, deign to greet
The piddling Ant that scurries at their Feet.

But this is Proem, what's the Grand Design,
For what the use of the Iambick Line?
My Iambs, lame poetick Feet, are treading
The Way to celebrate a Silver-Wedding:
For John and Margaret now shall sound my Praise,
Silver the Theme, tho' golden lies the Haze
Spread o'er a Quarter-century's Halcyon Days:
A Silver Age too best befits their Bard—
Gold's soft as Metall, but as Goal's too hard.

Alas! they said, across the raging Seas,
Our Bard is gone to the Amerikies!
What Dangers wait him in that savage Land
From treach'rous Yankee or from Indian Band?
Trampled to Death by hideous Herds of Bison,
Or scalp'd, subdu'd by feather'd Brave's vile Poison,
Or at the best, in Tumbril or in Cart, he
Lies Victim of some odious Tea-party.

Bohea and Suchong have their right Renown
But other Brews and Parties have I known:
Sipping my Claret or my crusted Port
To John and Margaret I give anxious Thought.
What Perils they in High-lands drear support?
What Clay-mor'd Chieftain with his hairy Knees
Shouts his horrific Slogans down the Breeze?
What Clans are massing by the silv'ry Tay,
Whose Cattle will be reiv'd ere break of day?
But all is well. 'Tis settled for a Fee,
That sweet Solatium of a ganging Plea.

So now return'd I greet the darling Twain
And hymn their Wedding-day in jocund Strain:
Here Learning, Wit and antique Lore combine
With Beauty, Chearfullness, and Food and Wine.
The antient Authours live in John's grave speech
With rustic Moralls neatly drawn from Each,
While Marg'ret talks of Crom-lecks or of Cairns
(Scottish Antiquity's unruly Bairns),
Ambrosial Fare delights us once again
And Nectar's Flagons stay the flagging Brain:
Parnassus now is set on Kinnoul-hill
And Tay is Helicon's thrice-famous Rill.

Come, raise the Glass, and toast the happy Pair,
May Joy and Bliss be theirs beyond Compare:
The Past we honour, but we wish them more—
This Day is Silver, but there's Gold in Store.

1961

NOTES

• Poem written to celebrate the silver wedding anniversary of John (a Perthshire solicitor) and Margaret Stewart (1907-86), she a renowned Scottish archaeologist. SP was probably Visiting Professor at Harvard when this was written in 1961; it was produced as a printed sheet with decorative coloured border