ALL hail! inexorable lord!

At whofe deftruction-breathing word,
The mightieft empires fall!
Thy cruel, woe-delighted train,
The minifters of Grief and Pain,.
A fullen welcome, all!
With ftern-refolv'd, defpairing eyes.

I fee each aimed dart;
For one has cut my dearest tye,,
And quivers in my heart.

Then low'ring, and pouring,
The Storm no more I dread;
Tho' thick'ning, and black'ning,,
Round my devoted head.

II.

And thou grim Pow'r, by Life abhorr'd,,

While Life a pleasure can afford,,

O! hear a wretch's pray'r!
No more I fhrink appall'd, afraid;

I court, I beg thy friendly aid,
To close this fcene of care!
When shall my foul, in filent peace,
Refign Life's joyless day?

My weary heart its throbbings cease,
Cold-mould'ring in the clay?

No fear more, no tear more,

TO

M IS S

L

With BEATTIE'S POEMS for a New-Year's Cift,

AGAIN

Jan. 1, 1787.

GAIN the filent wheels of time

Their annual round have driv'n,

And you, tho' scarce in maiden prime
Are fo much nearer Heav'n..

No gifts have I from Indian coafts
The Infant year to hail;

I fend you more than India boasts
In Edwin's fimple tale.

Our Sex with guile, and faithless love,,
Is charg'd, perhaps, too true;

But

may dear Maid, each Lover prove An Edwin ftill to you..

EPISTLE

TO A

YOUNG FRIEND,,

I

May 7866

I LANG hae thought, my youthfu' friend,,

A Something to have fent you,
Tho' it fhould ferve nae ither end
Than just a kind memento ;

But how the fubject theme may gang,
Let time and chance determine ;;

Perhaps it may turn out a Sang;
Perhaps, turn out a Sermon..

II..

Ye'll try the the world foon, my lad,,

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

And muckle they may grieve ye :
For care and trouble fet your thought,
Ev'n when your end's attained;
And a' your views may come to nought,
Where ev'ry nerve is ftrained.

III.

I'll no fay, men are villains a' ;
The real, harden'd wicked,

Wha hae nae check but human law,,

Are to a few reftricked:

But Och, mankind are unco weak,,
An'little to be trufted;

If Self the wavering balance shake,
Its rarely right adjusted!

IV.

Yet they wha fa' in Fortune's ftrife,,
Their fate we should na' cenfure,
For ftill th' important end of life,
They equally may answer:
A man may hae an honeft heart,
Tho' Poortith hourly ftare him ;;
A man may tak a neebor's part,
Yet have nae cab to fpare him..

Ay free, aff han', your story tell,,
When wi'a bofom crony ;
But ftill keep fomething to yourfel

Ye fcarcely tell to ony:

Conceal yourfel as weel's you can

Frae critical diffection;

But keek thro' ev'ry other man,
Wi' fharpen'd, fly inspection.

VI.

The facred lowe o' weel-plac'd love,,

Luxuriently indulge it ;