"Wait on," quoth Clock, "I scorn his help; Baith night and day my lane I skelp: Wind up my weights but anes a week, Without him I can gang and speak; Nor like an useless sumph I stand, But constantly wheel round my hand: Hark, hark! I strike just now the hour, And I am right-ane, twa, three, four." While thus the Clock was boasting loud, The bleezing sun brak thro' a cloud: The Dial, faithfu' to his guide, Spake truth, and laid the thumper's pride: "Ye see," said he, " I've dung you fair, 'Tis four hours and three quarters mair. "My friend," he added, "count again, And learn a wee to be less vain; Ne'er brag of constant clavering cant, And that you answers never want; For you're not ay to be believ'd, Wha trust to you may be deceiv'd. Be counsell'd to behave like me; For when I dinna clearly see, I always own I dinna ken, And that's the way of wisest men.”
A RAM, the father of a flock, Wha'd mony winters stood the shock Of northern winds and driving snaw, Leading his family in a raw,
Through wraiths that clad the laigher field, And drave them frae the lowner bield, To crop contented frozen fare, With honesty on hills blown bare: This Ram, of upright hardy spirit, Was really a horn'd head of merit. Unlike him was a neighbouring Goat, A mean-saul'd, cheating, thieving sot, That tho' possest of rocks the prime, Crown'd with fresh herbs and rowth of thyme, Yet, slave to pilfering, his delight Was to break gardens ilka night,
And round him steal, and aft destroy Even things he never could enjoy; The pleasure of a dirty mind, That is sae viciously inclin'd.
Upon a barrowing day, when sleet Made twinters and hog-wedders bleet, And quake with cauld; behind a ruck Met honest Toop and sneaking Buck: Frae chin to tail clad with thick hair, He bad defiance to thin air;
But trusty Toop his fleece had riven, When he amang the birns was driven; Half-naked the brave leader stood, His look compos'd, unmov'd his mood: When thus the Goat, that had tint a' His credit baith with great and sma', Shun'd by them as a pest, wad fain New friendship with this worthy gain: “Ram, say shall I give you a part Of mine? I'll do 't with all my heart! 'Tis yet a lang cauld month to Beltan, And ye've a very ragged kelt on;
Accept, I pray, what I can spare,
To clout your doublet with my hair." "No," says the Ram, " Tho' my coat's torn, Yet ken, thou worthless, that I scorn To be oblig'd at any price
To sic as you, whose friendship's vice! I'd have less favour frae the best, Clad in a hatefu' hairy vest Bestow'd by thee, than as I now Stand but ill drest in native woo'.
Boons frae the generous make ane smile; From miscreants, 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-glass With truths addrest the lovely Lass. "To do ye justice, heavenly fair, Amaist in charms ye may compare With Venus' sell; but mind amaist, For tho' you're happily possest Of ilka grace which claims respect, Yet I see faults you should correct. own they only trifles are,
Yet of importance to the fair. What signifies that patch o'er braid, With which your rosy 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."
Those kind advices she approv'd, And mair her monitor she lov'd, Till in came visitants a threave; To entertain them she man leave
Her Looking-glass.-They fleetching praise Her looks, her dress, and a' she says, Be't right or wrang; she's hale complete, And fails in nathing fair or sweet. Sae much was said, the bonny Lass Forgat her faithfu' Looking-glass.
Clarinda, this dear beauty's you;
The mirror is ane good and wise, Wha, by his counsels just, can shew
How nobles may to greatness rise. God bless the wark!-If you're opprest By parasites with fause design,
Then will sic 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 best, Made up the maist feck of the rest. Now ilka ticket sald with ease, At altars, for a sacrifice:
Jove a' receiv'd, ky, gaits, and ewes, 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 themsells. 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 reason might repine. He drew, and Mercury was clark, The number, prize, and name to mark. Now hopes by millions fast came forth, But seldom 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,
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