Still caring, despairing,
Must be my bitter doom;
My woes here shall close ne'er
But with the closing tomb

Happy, ye sons of busy life,
Who, equal to the bustling strife,
No other view regard!

Even when the wishèd end's denied,
Yet while the busy means are plied,
They bring their own reward:
Whilst I, a hope-abandoned wight,
Unfitted with an aim,

Meet every sad returning night
And joyless morn the same;
You, bustling, and justling,
Forget each grief and pain;
I, listless, yet restless,

Find every prospect vain.
How blest the solitary's lot,
Who, all-forgetting, all-forgot,
Within his humble cell,

The cavern wild with tangling-roots,
Sits o'er his newly-gathered fruits,
Beside his crystal well!
Or haply to his evening thought,
By unfrequented stream,

The ways of men are distant brought,
A faint collected dream;

While praising, and raising

His thoughts to heaven on high,
As wand'ring, meand'ring,
He views the solemn sky.

Than I, no lonely hermit placed,
Where never human footstep traced,
Less fit to play the part;
The lucky moment to improve,
And just to stop, and just to move,
With self-respecting art:

But ah! those pleasures, loves, and joys,
Which I too keenly taste,

The solitary can despise,

Can want, and yet be blest!
He needs not, he heeds not,
Or human love or hate,
Whilst I here, must cry here
At perfidy ingrate !

Oh enviable, early days,

When dancing thoughtless pleasure's mase,

To care, to guilt unknown!

How ill exchanged for riper times,

To feel the follies, or the crimes,

Of others, or my own!

Ye tiny elves that guiltless sport,
Like linnets in the bush,

Ye little know the ills ye court,
When manhood is your wish!
The losses, the crosses,

That active man engage!
The fears all, the tears all,
Of dim declining age.

TO RUIN.

ALL hail! inexorable lord!

At whose destruction-breathing word
The mightiest empires fall!
Thy cruel, wo-delighted train,
The ministers of grief and pain,
A sullen welcome, all!

With stern-resolved, despairing eye,
I see each aimèd dart;

For one has cut my dearest tie,

And quivers in my heart.

Then lowering and pouring,
The storm no more I dread;
Though thick'ning and black'ning
Round my devoted head.

And thou grim power, by life abhorred
While life a pleasure can afford,

Oh hear a wretch's prayer!
No more I shrink appalled, afraid;
I court, I beg thy friendly aid,
To close this scene of care!
When shall my soul in silent peace,
Resign life's joyless day;

My weary heart its throbbings cease,
Cold mouldering in the clay?

No fear more, no tear more,
To stain my lifeless face;
Enclasped and graspèd
Within thy cold embrace!

TO GAVIN HAMILTON.

MOSSGIEL, May 8, 1788,

I HOLD it, sir, my bounden duty,
To warn you how that Master Tootie,
Alias, Laird M'Gaun,

Was here to hire yon lad away
'Bout whom ye spak the tither day,
And wad hae done't aff han'.

spoke, other

would, instantly

મ

But lest he learn the callan tricks,

boy

As, faith, I muckle doubt him,

Like scrapin' out auld Crummie's nicks, (on cow's horn)

And tellin' lies about them;

As lieve then, I'd have then,

Your clerkship he should sair,

If sae be ye may be

Nor fitted other where.

Although I say't, he's gleg enough,

And 'bout a house that's rude and rough,

The boy might learn to swear;

But then wi' you he'll be sae taught,
And get sic fair example straught,

I havena ony fear

Ye'll catechise him every quirk,

AND WHEN YE HEAR THE BELL,
YE'LL
gar him follow to the kirk-
-Aye when ye gang yoursel.
If ye, then, maun be, then,
Frae hame this comin' Friday;
Then please sir, to lea'e, sir,
The orders wi' your leddy.

My word of honour 1 hae gi'en,

In Paisley John's, that night at e'en,
To meet the warld's worm ;*
To try to get the twa to gree,
And name the airles and the fee,
In legal mode and form:

I ken he weel a sneck can draw,
When simple bodies let him.

content

serve

80

elsewhere

sharp

straight have not any

from home

lady

given

agree

earnest money

know, is crafty

May 1786. long have

110

go

song

full

But, och mankind are unco weak,

vary

And little to be trusted;

If self the wavering balance shake,
It's rarely right adjusted!

Yet they wha fa' in fortune's strife,
Their fate we should na censure,
For still th' important end of life
They equally may answer;
A man may hae an honest heart,
Though poortith hourly stare him;
A man may tak a neibor's part,
Yet hae nae cash to spare him.

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,

fall

not

have

poverty

neighbour's

always, off hand

companion

any

But keek through every other man,

look

Wi sharpened, sly inspection.

Its slightest touches, instant pause-
Debar a' side pretences;
And resolutely keep its laws,
Uncaring consequences.

The great Creator to revere

Must sure become the creature ;
But still the preaching cant forbear,
And even the rigid feature:
Yet ne'er with wits profane to range,
Be complaisance extended

An Athiest laugh's a poor exchange
For Deity offended

When ranting round in pleasure's ring,
Religion may be blinded;

Or if she gi'e a random sting,

It may be little minded;

But when on life we're tempest driven,
A conscience but a canker,

A correspondence fixed wi' Heaven,
Is sure a noble anchor!

Adieu, dear, amiable youth!

Your heart can ne'er be wanting!

May prudence, fortitude, and truth,

Erect your brow undaunting!

In ploughman phrase," God send you speed,"

Still daily to grow wiser:

And may you better reck the rede

Than ever did th' adviser!

give

heed, counsel

A DREAM.

"Thoughts, words, and deeds, the statute blames with reason
But surely dreanis were ne'er indicted treason."

On reading, in the public papers, the "Laureate's Cde," with the other parade of June 4, 1786, the author was no sooner dropt asleep, than he imagined himself tran sported to the birthday levee; and in his dreaming fancy made the following

Address: "—