Alas! how aft in haughty mood,
God's creatures they oppress!
Or else, neglecting a' that's guid,
They riot in excess!

Baith careless, and fearless
Of either heav'n or hell!
Esteeming, and deeming

It a' an idle tale!

VII.

Then let us cheerfu' acquiesce;
Nor make our scanty pleasures less,
By pining at our state;

And, even should misfortunes come,
I, here wha sit, hae met wi' some,
An's thankfu' for them yet.
They gie the wit of age to youth;
They let us ken oursel;

They make us see the naked truth,

The real guid and ill.

Tho' losses, and crosses,

Be lessons right severe,

There's wit there, ye'll get there,
Ye'll find nae other where.

VIII.

But tent me, Davie, ace o' hearts!

(To say aught less wad wrang the cartes,

And

And flatt'ry I detest)

This life has joys for you and I;
And joys that riches ne'er could buy:
And joys the very best.

There's a' the pleasures o' the heart,
The lover an' the frien';

Ye hae your Meg, your dearest part,
And I my darling Jean!

It warms me, it charms me,
To mention but her name:

It heats me, it beets me,

And sets me a' on flame!

IX.

O all ye pow'rs who rule above!
O Thou, whose very self art love!
Thou know'st my words sincere!
The life-blood streaming thro' my heart,
Or my more dear immortal part,
Is not more fondly dear!
When heart-corroding care and grief,
Deprive my soul of rest,

Her dear idea brings relief
And solace to my breast.
Thou Being, All-seeing,

O hear my fervent pray'r;
Still take her, and make her
Thy most peculiar care!

X.

X.

All hail, ye tender feelings dear!
The smile of love, the friendly tear,
The sympathetic glow!

Long since, this world's thorny ways
Had number'd out my weary days,
Had it not been for you!

Fate still has blest me with a friend,
In every care and ill;

And oft a more endearing band,

A tie more tender still.

It lightens, it brightens
The tenebrific scene,

To meet with, and greet with
My Davie or my Jean.

XI.

O, how that name inspires my style!
The words come skelpin rank and file,
Amaist before I ken!

The ready measure rins as fine,
As Phoebus and the famous Nine

Were glowrin owre my pen.
My spaviet Pegasus will limp,

"Till ance he's fairly het;

And then he'll hilch, and stilt, and jimp,

An' rin an unco fit :

But

But lest then, the beast then,
Should rue this hasty ride,
I'll light now, and dight now

'His sweaty wizen'd hide.

VOL. III.

M

THE

THE

LAMENT,

OCCASIONED BY THE UNFORTUNATE ISSUE

OF A

FRIEND'S AMOUR.

Alas! how oft does goodness wound itself!
And sweet Affection prove the spring of woe.

HOME.

I.

O THOU pale orb, that silent shines,
While care-untroubled mortals sleep!
Thou seest a wretch that inly pines,
And wanders here to wail and weep!
With woe I nightly vigils keep,
Beneath thy wan unwarming beam;
And mourn, in lamentation deep,

How life and love are all a dream.