"I'd have lefs favour frae the best,
"Clad in a hatefu' hairy vest
"Bestow'd by thee, than as I now
"Stand but ill dreft in native woo'.
"Boons frae the generous make ane smile;
"From mifcreants, make receivers vile."
THE LOVELY LASS AND THE MIRROR.
A NYMPH with ilka beauty grac'd,
Ae morning by her toilet plac'd,
Where the leal-hearted Looking-glafs
With truths addreft the lovely Lafs.
"To do ye justice, heavenly fair,
"Amaist in charms ye may compare
"With Venus' fell; but mind amaist,
"For tho' you're happily poffeft
"Of ilka grace which claims respect,
"Yet I fee faults you fhould correct;
"I own they only trifles are,
"Yet of importance to the fair:
"What fignifies that patch o'er braid,
"With which your rofy cheek's o'erlaid? "Your natural beauties you beguile,
By that too much affected smile; "Saften that look; move ay with ease, "And you can never fail to please.”
Thofe kind advices fhe approv'd, And mair her monitor she lov'd, Till in came vifitants a threave;
To entertain them fhe man leave
Her Looking-glafs.-They fleetching praise
Her looks, her drefs, and a' fhe fays,
Be 't right or wrang; fhe 's hale complete,
And fails in naithing fair or fweet.
Sae much was faid, the bonny Lafs
Forgat her faithfu' Looking-glafs.
Clarinda, this dear beautie 's you,
The mirror is ane good and wife, Wha, by his counfels juft, can fhew How nobles may to greatness rise. God bless the wark !-If you 're opprest By parafites with faufe defign,
Then will fic faithfu' mirrors best
These under-plotters countermine.
ANES Jove, by ae great act of grace,
Wad gratify his human race,
And order'd Hermes, in his name,
With tout of trumpet to proclaim
A royal lott'ry frae the skies,
Where ilka ticket was a prize.
Nor was there need for ten per cent.
To pay advance for money lent;
Nor brokers nor stock-jobbers here
Were thol'd to cheat fowk of their gear:
The first-rate benefits were health,
Pleasures, honours, empire, and wealth;
But happy he to whom wad fa'
Wisdom, the highest prize of a'.
Hopes of attaining things the beft,
Made up the maift feck of the rest.
Now ilka ticket fald with ease,
At altars, for a facrifice:
Jove a' receiv'd, ky, gaits, and ews,
Moor-cocks, lambs, dows, or bawbee-rows;
Nor wad debar e'en a poor droll,
Wha nought cou'd gi'e but his parol.
Sae kind was he no to exclude
Poor wights for want of wealth or blood;
Even whiles the gods, as record tells,
Bought several tickets for themfells.
When fou, and lots put in the wheel,
Aft were they turn'd to mix them weel;
Blind Chance to draw Jove order'd syne,
That nane with reafon might repine.
He drew, and Mercury was clark,
The number, prize, and name to mark,
Now hopes by millions faft came forth,
But feldom prizes of mair worth,
Sic as dominion, wealth, and state,
True friends, and lovers fortunate.
Wisdom at last, the greatest prize,
Comes up-aloud clark Hermes cries,
"Number ten thousand; come, let 's fee
"The person bleft."-Quoth Pallas, "Me."
Then a' the gods for blythness fang,
Thro' heaven glad acclamations rang;
While mankind, grumbling, laid the wyte
On them, and ca'd the hale a byte.
"Yes," cry'd ilk ane, with sobbing heart,
"Kind Jove has play'd a parent's part,
"Wha did this prize to Pallas fend,
"While we 're fneg'd off at the wob's end."
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