THE FIRST SIX VERSES OF THE NINETIETH PSAL M. O THOU, the firft, the greatest friend Of all the human race! Whofe ftrong right-hand has ever been Their stay and dwelling-place! Before Before the mountains heav'd their heads Beneath Thy forming hand, Before this pond'rous globe itself, Arofe at Thy command; That Pow'r which rais'd and still upholds This univerfal frame, From countlefs, unbeginning time Was ever ftill the fame. Those mighty periods of years Which seem to us fo vaft, Appear no more before Thy fight Thou giv'ft the word: Thy creature, man, Is to existence brought; Thou layeft them, with all their cares, As with a flood Thou tak'ft them off With overwhelming sweep. They flourish like the morning flow'r, But long ere night cut down it lies то ΤΟ Α MOUNTAIN DAISY, On turning one down, with the Plough, in April 1786. WEE, modeft, crimson-tipped flow'r, Thou's met me in an evil hour; Thy flender ftem. To spare thee now is past my pow'r, Thou bonnie gem. Alas! Alas! its no thy neebor sweet, The bonnie Lark, companion meet! Bending thee 'mang the dewy weet! Wi' spreckl'd breast, When upward-fpringing, blythe, to greet The purpling East. Cauld blew the bitter-biting North Upon thy early, humble birth; Yet chearfully thou glinted forth Amid the storm, Scarce rear'd above the Parent-earth Thy tender form. The flaunting flow'rs our Gardens yield, High fhelt'ring woods and wa's maun fhield; But thou, beneath the random bield O' clod or stane, Adorns the hiftie ftibble-field, Unfeen, alane. There, |