I LANG hae thought, my youthfu' friend,
A Something to have fent you,

Tho' it fhould ferve nae other end

Than just a kind memento;

But

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 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,

D 2

Wha

52

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,
It's rarely right adjusted!

IV.

Yet they wha fa' in Fortune's ftrife,
Their fate we would 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 hae nae cash to spare him.

V.

Ay free, aff han', your ftory tell,

When wi' a bofom crony ;

But

But ftill keep fomething to yoursel
Ye scarcely tell to ony.

Conceal yourfel as weel's ye 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,

Luxuriantly indulge it ;

But never tempt th' illicit rove,

Tho' naething should divulge it :

I wave the quantum of the fin,
The hazard of concealing;

But Och! it hardens a' within,
And petrifies the feeling!

VII.

To catch Dame Fortune's golden fmile,

Affiduous wait upon her;

54

And gather gear by ev'ry wile
That's juftify'd by Honor:
Not for to hide it in a hedge,
Nor for a train-attendant ;

But for the glorious privilege
Of being independent.

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:
It's flightest touches, inftant pause-

Debar a' fide pretences;
And refolutely keep its laws,

Uncaring confequences.

IX.

The great Creator to revere,

Muft fure become the creature;

But