Aye gat him friends in ilka place. Nae doubt but they were fain o' ither, always got, each shaggy well stately hips, swirling motion fond very intimate [ed Wi'social nose whyles snuff'd and snowkit, sometimes scent Whyles mice and moudieworts they howkit; moles, dug up away each other sporting hillock long EPISTLE TO A YOUNG FRIEND. I'LL no say men are villains a' ; The real, hardened wicked, 'Wha hae nae check but human law, But, oh! mankind are unco weak, If self the wavering balance shake, Aye free aff han' your story tell, When wi' a bosom crony; But still keep something to yoursel' Ye scarcely tell to ony. Conceal yoursel' as weel's ye can Frae critical dissection, who have no very always off hand companior any from look But keek through every other man, The secret lowe o' weel-placed love, Luxuriantly indulge it; Bnt never tempt th' illicit rove, But, ob! it hardens a' within, And petrifies the feeling! flame nothing To catch dame Fortune's golden smile, The great Creator to revere Must sure become the creature; Yet ne'er with wits profane to range, An Atheist laugh's a poor exchange When ranting round in pleasure's ring, Or if she gi'e a random sting, It may be little minded; But when on life we're tempest driven, A correspondence fixed wi' Heaven, TO MARY IN HEAVEN. THOU lingering star, with less'ning ray, Again thou usher'st in the day My Mary from my soul was torn. O Mary! dear departed shade! Where is thy place of blissful rest! See'st thou thy lover lowly laid? Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast? That sacred hour can I forget, Can I forget the hallowed grove, Where by the winding Ayr we met, To live one day of parting love! Eternity will not efface Those records dear of transports past; Thy image at our last embrace Ah! little thought we 'twas our last! wealth give distinguished divi 1. In early life he ed to send him to th emain one, he wen re he remained til maker of verses, ation of tutor in t ere he remained hat dropers which dine dileme Toes, they will The he can't h Haugh d drop at in, but The playe Tred flatfel that he ge Sit, let nemy Ayr, gurgling, kissed his pebbled shore, Where is thy place of blissful rest? Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast? LAMENT FOR EARL OF GLENCAIRN. evermore Thou brought from fortune's mirkiest gloom. darkest "In poverty's low barren vale Thick mists, obscure, involved me round; Though oft I turn'd the wistful eye, Nae ray of fame was to be found: While villains ripen grey with time; A day to me so full of wo!Oh had I met the mortal shaft Which laid my benefactor low! |