ALL hail! inexorable lord! At whofe deftruction-breathing word, I fee each aimed dart; Then low'ring, and pouring, II. And thou grim Pow'r, by Life abhorr'd,, While Life a pleasure can afford,, O! hear a wretch's pray'r! I court, I beg thy friendly aid, My weary heart its throbbings cease, 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 No gifts have I from Indian coafts I fend you more than India boasts Our Sex with guile, and faithless love,, 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, But how the fubject theme may gang, Perhaps it may turn out a Sang; II.. Ye'll try the the world foon, my lad,, And Andrew dear, believe me, And muckle they may grieve ye : III. I'll no fay, men are villains a' ; Wha hae nae check but human law,, Are to a few reftricked: But Och, mankind are unco weak,, If Self the wavering balance shake, IV. Yet they wha fa' in Fortune's ftrife,, Ay free, aff han', your story tell,, Ye fcarcely tell to ony: Conceal yourfel as weel's you can Frae critical diffection; But keek thro' ev'ry other man, VI. The facred lowe o' weel-plac'd love,, Luxuriently indulge it ; |