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What is a lordling's pomp?-a cur
Disguising of the wretch of huma Studied in arts of hell, in wickedne
O Scotia ! my dear, my native soil!
For whom my warmest wish to H Long may the hardy sons of rustic
Be blest with health, and peace, as And, O! may Heav'n their simple
From luxury's contagion, weak an Then, howe'er crowns and coronets
A virtuous populace may rise the And stand a wall of fire around thei
O Thou! who pour'd the patriotic t
That stream'd thro' Wallace's und Who dard to nobly stem tyrannic p
Or nobly die, the second glorious (The patriot's God, peculiarly thou a
His friend, inspirer, guardian, and O never, never Scotia's realm desert
But still the patriot, and the patri In bright succession rise, her ornam
WRITTEN IN FRIAR'S-CARSE HERMITAGE, ON NITH-SIDE
Thou whom chance may hither lead,
Life is but a day at most,
As youth and love, with sprightly dance,
As thy day grows warm and high,
As the shades of evening close, Beck’ning thee to long repose; As life itself becomes disease, Seek the chimney-neuk of ease; There ruminate with sober thought, On all thou'st seen, and heard, and wrought; And teach the sportive younkers round, Laws of experience, sage and sound. Say, Man's true, genuine estimate, The grand criterion of his fate, Is not, Art thou high or low? Did thy fortune ebb or flow? Did many talents gild thy span ? Or frugal nature grudge thee one ? Tell them, and press it on their mind, As thou thyself must shortly find, The smile or frown of awful Heav'n To virtue or to vice is giv'n. Say, to be just, and kind, and wise, There solid self-enjoyment lies; That foolish, selfish, faithless ways, Lead to the wretched, vile, and base.
Thus resign'd and quiet, creep
Stranger, go! Heaven be thy guide' Quod the Beadsman of Nith-side
UNDER THE PRESSURE OF VIOLENT ANGUISH.
O thou great Being! what thou art
Surpasses me to know;
Are all thy works below.
Thy creature here before Thee stands,
All wretched and distrest ;
Obey thy high behest.
Sure Thou, Almighty, canst not act
From cruelty or wrath!
Or, close them fast in death!
But if I must afflicted be,
To suit some wise design;
To bear and not repine !
IN THE PROSPECT OF DEATH.
O THOU, unknown, Almighty Cause
Of all my hope and fear!
Perhaps I must appear!
If I have wanderd in those paths
Of life I ought to shun;-
Remonstrates I have done ;
Thou know'st that Thou hast formed me
With passions wild and strong ; And list’ning to their witching voice
Has often led me wrong.
Where human weakness has come short,
Or frailty stept aside, Do Thou, All Good !- for such Thou art,
In shades of darkness hide.
Where with intention I have err'd,
No other plea I have,
Delighteth to forgive'