Wi' never ceasing toil;

Think ye, are we less blest than they,
Wha scarcely tent us in their way,
As hardly worth their while?
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 's 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 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 prayer;
Still take her, and make her
Thy most peculiar care!

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.

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,

And rin an unco fit:

But lest then, the beast then,

Should rue this hasty ride,

I'll light now, and dight now
His sweaty, wizen'd hide.

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.

НОМЕ.

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.

!