But never tempt th' illicit rove,
Tho' naething fhould divulge it::
I wave the quantum o' the fin ;.
The hazard of concealing ;.
But Och it hardens a' within,

And petrefies the feeling !

VII.

To catch Dame Fortune's golden fmiley
Affidious wait upon her;
And gather gear by ev'ry wile
That's juftifi'd by Honor ::
Not for to hide it in a hedge,.
Nor for a train attendant;
But for the glorious privilege
Of being independant.`

VIII.

The fear o' Hell's a hangman's whip,.
To haud the wretch in order;
But where ye feel your Honor grip-
Let that ay be your border:
Its flightest touches, inftant paufe.

Debar a' fide pretences,
And refolutely keep its laws,
Uncaring confequences.

IX.

The great Creator to revere,

Muft fure become the Creature;

But ftill the preaching cant forbear,
And ev'n the rigid feature:

Yet ne'er with Wits prophane to rage,,
Be complaifance extended;

An Atheist laugh's a poor exchange
For Deity offended?

X.

When ranting round in Pleasures ring,

Religion may be blinded;

Or if the gie a random fling,

It may be little minded;

But when on life we're tempeft-driv’ng.

A confcience but a canker

A correfpondence fix'd wi' Heav'n,,
Is fure a noble anchor!

XI.

Adieu, dear, amiable Youth!

Your heart can ne'er be wanting!

May Prudence, Fortitude, and Truth,
Erect your brow undaunting!

In Ploughman's phrafe, God fend you speed,'!

Still daily to grow wifer;

And may ye better reck the rede,

Than e'er did th' Adviser!

ON A

SCOTCH BARD,

GONE TO THE WEST INDIES.

A'YE wha live by fowps o' drink,

A' ye wha live by crambo.clink,
A'ye wha live and never think,

Come, mourn wi' me! :

Our Billie's gien us a' a jink,

An' owre the Sea!

Lament him a' ye rantin core, Wha dearly like a random fplore; Nae mair he'll join the merry roar,

In focial key;

For now he's ta'en another fhore,

An owre the Sea !

The bonie laffes weel may wifs him,
And in their dear petitions place him:
The widows, wives, an' a' may blefs him

Wi' tearfu' e'e ;

For weell I wat they'll fairly mifs him

That's owre the Sea!

་

O Fortune, they hae room to grumble !! Hadft thou taen aff fome drowsy bummle, Wha can do nought but fyke an' fumble,

'Twad been nae plea ;

But he was gleg as onie wumble,

That's owre the Sea..

Auld, cantie Kyle may weepers wear, An' ftain them wi' the faut, faut tear :: "Twill make her poor, auld heart, I fear,

In flinders flee :

He was her Laureat monie a year,

That's owre the Sea.

He faw Misfortune's cauld Nor-west Lang muftering up a bitter blaft;

A Jillet brak his heart at last,

Ill may fhe be!!

So, took a birth afore the maft,

An' owre the Sea.

'To tremble under fortunes cummock,, On fcarce a belly fu' o' drummock, Wi' his proud, independent ftomach,

Could ill agree;

So, row't his hurdies in a hammock,

An' owre the Sea.

He ne'er was gien to great mifguiding,

Yet coin his pouches wad na bide in ;

Wi' him it ne'er was under hiding

He dealt it free:

The mufe was a' that he took pride in,

That's owre the Sea.

Jamaica bodies, ufe him weel, An' hap him in a cozie biel:

Ye'll find him ay a dainty chiel,

An' fou o' glee:

He wad na wrang'd the vera Deil,

That's owre the Sea..

Fareweel, my rhyme-compofing billie! Your native foil was right ill-willie; But may ye flourish like a lily,

Now bonilie:

I'll toaft ye in my hindmoft gillie,

Tho' owre the Sea!: