« PreviousContinue »
The man in life wherever plac'd,
Hath happiness in store,
Nor learns their guilty lore!
Casts forth bis eyes abroad,
That man shall flourish like the trees
Which by the streamlets grow; The fruitful top is spread on high,
And firm the root below.
But be whose blossom buds in guilt,
Shall to the ground be cast, And like the rootless stubble, tost
Before the weeping blast.
For why? That God, the good adore,
Hath giv’n them peace and rest, But hath decreed that wicked men
Shall ne'er be truly blest.
FIRST SIX VERSES
THE NINETIETH PSALM.
O THOU, the first, the greatest Friend
Of all the human race!
Their stay and dwelling place!
Beneath thy forming band,
Arose at thy command;
This universal frame,
Was ever still the same.
Those mighty periods of years
Which seem to us so vast, Appear no more before thy sight
Than yesterday that's past.
Thou giv'st the word-Thy creature, man,
Is to existence brought;
Thou layest them, with all their cares,
In everlasting sleep;,
With overwhelming sweep.
They flourish like the morning flow'r,
In beauty's pride array'd;
All wither'd and decay'd.
A YOUNG FRIEND.
I. I LANG hae thought, my youthfu' friend,
A something to have sent you, Tho' it should serve no other end
Than just a kind memento; But how the subject-theme may gang,
Let time and chance determine;
And Andrew dear, believe me,
And muckle they may grieve ye;
For care and trouble set your thought,
Ev'n when your end's attained;
The real, harden'd wicked,
Are to a few restricked-
An' little to be trusted;
Their fate we should na censure,
They equally may answer;
Tho' poortith hourly stare him;
When wi' a bosom crony;
Ye'll scarcely tell to ony.
Frae critical dissection;
Luxuriantly indulge it;
Tho' naething should divulge it;
I waive the quantum o’ the sin,
The hazard of concealing; But, och! it hardens a' within, And petrifies the feeling!
VII. To catch dame Fortune's golden smile,
Assiduous wait upon her; And gather gear by ev'ry wile
That's justified by honorNot for to hide it in a hedge,
Nor for a train-attendant,
To haud the wretch in order-
Let that ay be your border;
Debar a' side pretences;
Must sure become the creature;
And ev'n the rigid feature; Yet ne'er with wits profane to range,
Be complaisance extended; An Atheist's laugh's a poor exchange For Deity offended!
X. When ranting round in pleasure's ring,
Religion may be blinded; Or if she gie a random sing,
It may be little minded;