The pith o' sense and pride o' worth

Are higher rank than a'that.

Then let us pray that come it may,

As come it will for a' that,
That sense and worth, o'er a' the earth,

May bear the gree) and a' that:
For a' that, and a' that,

It's comin' yet for a' that,
That man to man, the world ? o'er,

Shall brothers be for a' that!

To a Mountain Daisy.
Wee, modest, crimson-tipped flow'r,
Thou's met me in an evil hour;
For I maun crush amang the stoure3

Thy slender stem:
To spare thee now is past my pow'r,

Thou bonie gem.

Alas! it's no thy neebor sweet,
The bonie Lark, companion meet!
Bending thee ʼmang the dewy weet! 4

Wi' 5 speckl'd breast,
When upward springing, blythe, to greet

The purpling East.
Cauld blew the bitter-biting North
Upon thy early, humble birth;
Yet cheerfully thou glinted forth

Amid the storm,
Scarce rear'd above the parent-earth

Thy tender form.

The flaunting flow'rs our gardens yield,
High-shelt'ring woods and wa’s6 maun shield;
But thou, beneath the random bield ?

O'clod or stane,
Adorns the histie stibble8-field,

Unseen, alane.

5

Epistle to a Young Friend. I lang hae thought, my youthfu' friend,

A something to have sent you, Tho' it should serve nae other end

Than just a kind memento; But how the subject-theme may gang, 5

Let time and chance determine; Perhaps it may turn out a sang,

Perhaps, turn out a sermon. Ye'll try the world soon, my lad,

And, Andrew dear, believe me, Ye'll find mankind an unco squad 6

And muckle they may grieve ye: For care and trouble set your thought,

Ev’n when your end's attained; And a' your views may come to nought,

When ev'ry nerve is strained.
I'll no say men are villains a';

The real, hardened wicked
Wha hae nae check but human law

Are to a few restricked.
But, och! mankind are unco weak,

An' little to be trusted;
If self the wavering balance shaķe,

It's rarely right adjusted !

a

Yet they wha fa' in fortune's strife,

Their fate we shouldna censure,
For still the important end of life

They equally may answer:
A man may hae an honest heart,

Tho'poortith? hourly stare him;
A man may tak a neebor's part

Yet hae nae cash to spare him.

3

4

Aye free, aff-han',; your story tell,

When wi' a bosom crony;
But still keep something to yoursel

Ye scarcely tell to ony.
Conceal yoursel as weel's ye can

Frae critical dissection;
But keeks thro' ev'ry other man

Wi’ sharpen'd, sly inspection.
The sacred lowe o' weel-plac'd love,

Luxuriantly indulge it;
But never tempt th’illicit rove,

Tho' naething should divulge it;
I wave the quantum' o'the sin,

The hazard o' concealing ;
But, och! it hardens a' within,

And petrifies the feeling!
To catch Dame Fortune's golden smile

Assiduous wait upon her;
And gather gear by ev'ry wile

That's justified by honor: Not for to hide it in a hedge,

Nor for a train attendant,
But for the glorious privilege

Of being independent.
The fear o'hell's a hangman's whip

To haud' the wretch in order;
But where ye feel your honor gripio

Let that aye be your border:

Its slightest touches, instant pause

Debar a' side pretences;
And resolutely keep its laws,

Uncaring consequences.
The great Creator to revere,

Must sure become the creature:
But still the preaching cant forbear,

And ev’n the rigid feature;
Yet ne'er with wits profane to range

Be complaisancel extended;
An atheist laugh's a poor exchange

For Deity offended!

When ranting round in pleasure's ring,

Religion may be blinded;
Or, if she gie? random sting,

It may be little minded;
But when on life we're tempest-driv'n,-

A conscience but a canker,
A correspondence fix'd wi' Heav'n

Is sure a noble anchor!

Adieu, dear, amiable youth!

Your heart can ne'er be wanting!
May prudence, fortitude, and truth

Erect your brow undaunting!
In ploughman phrase, “God send you speed,”4

Still daily to grow wiser;
And may ye better reck the redes

Then ever did th' Adviser!

Highland Mary.
Ye banks and braes and streams around

The castle o' Montgomery!
Green be your woods, and fair your flowers,

Your waters never drumlie: 6
There simmer? first unfauld her robes,

And there the langest tarry;
For there I took the last fareweel

O’my sweet Highland Mary.

1 Courtesy. ? Give. 3 Without. * Success. 5 Heed the advice. 6 Muddy. ? Summer.

2