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IV.

What tho' like Commoners of air,
We wander out, we know not where,
But either house or hal'?

Yet Nature's charms the hills and woods,
The sweeping vales and foaming floods,
Are free alike to all.

In days when Daifies deck the ground,
And Black-birds whistle clear,
With honeft joy our hearts will bound,
To fee the coming year:

On breas when we please, then,

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We'll fit and fowth a tune;

Syne rhyme till't we'll time aill't,

An' fing't when we hae done.

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It's no in wealth like Lon'on Bank,

To purchase peace and rest; It's no in makin' muckle mair :

It's no in books, it's no in lear,

To make us truly blest :
If Happiness hae not her feat

And centre in the breast,

We may be wife, or rich, or great,

But never can be bleft:

Nae treasures nor pleasures

Could make us hapy lang;

The heart ay's the part ay

That makes us right or wrang.

VI.

Think ye, that fick as you and I,

Wha drudge and drive thro' wet and dry,

Wi' never ceafing toil;

Think ye are we less bleft than they,
Wha fcarcely tent us in their way,
As hardly worth their while?
Alas! how aft, in haughty mood,
God's creatures they oppress!
Or elfe, neglecting a' that's guid,
They riot i excefs !

Baith careless and fearless

Of either Heaven or Hell;
Efteeming, and deeming

It's a' an idle tale!

VII.

Then let us chearfu' acquiesce,

Nor make our scanty Pieasures lefs,
By pining at our state:

And, ev'n fhould Misfortunes come,
I here wha fit hae met wi' fome,

An's thankfu' for them yet,

They gie the wit o' Age to Youth!
They let us ken our fel;

They make us fee the naked truth,

The real guid and ill:

Tho' loffes and croffes

Be leffons right fevere;

There's wit there, ye'll get there,

Ye'll find nae other where.

VIII.

But tent me, Davie, Ace o' Hearts;

(To fay aught lefs wad wrang the cartes,

And flatt'ry I deteft)

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 Pleafures 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;

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O all

you Pow'rs who rule above!

O Tbou, whofe very felf art love!

Thou know'it my words fincere ! 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 foul of reft,

Her dear idea brings relief,

And folace to my

breaft:

Thou Being, All-seeing.

O hear my fervent pray'r!
Still take her, and make her

Thy moft peculiar care?

X.

All hail! ye tender feeling dear!
The fmile of love, the friendly tear,
The fympathetick glow!

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

Fate ftill has bleft me with a friend,
In ev'ry 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!
X1.

O, how that name inspires my ftyle!
The words come fkelpin, 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 fpaviet Pegafus will limp,
Till ance he's fairly het;

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

And rin an' unco fit:

But leaft then the beast then

Should rue this hafty ride,

I'll light now, and dight now
His fweaty, wizen`à hide.

THE

LAMENT

ED BY

THE UNFORTUNATE ISSUE

FRIEND's AMOUR.

Alas! how oft does Goodness wound itself!
And fweet Affection prove the spring of Woe.

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THOU pale Orb, that filent shines,

While care-untroubled mortals fleep!
Thou feeft a Wretch, who 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!:

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