ON THE DUKE OF HAMILTON'S SHOOTING AN ARROW

A S from a bow a fatal flane,
Train'd by Apollo from the main,
  In water pierc'd an eel;
Sae mae the patriot's power and art
Sic fate to souple rogues impart,
  That drumble at the commonweal:
Tho' they as ony eels are slid,
  And thro' what 's vile can scud,
A bolt may reach them, tho' deep hid,
  They sculk beneath their mud.