'And wear thou this'-she solemn said, And bound the Holly round my head: The polish'd leaves, and berries red, Did rustling play; And, like a passing thought, she fled In light away. ADDRESS TO THE UNCO GUID, OR THE RIGIDLY RIGHTEOUS. My son, these maxims make a rule, The cleanest corn that e'er was dight May hae some pyles o' caff in; So ne'er a fellow-creature slight For random fits o' daffin. SOLOMON.-Eccles. ch. vii. ver. 16. I. YE wha are sae guid yoursel, Ye've nought to do but mark and tell Your neebour's faults and folly! VOL. III. I Whase Whase life is like a weel-gaun mill, II. Hear me, ye venerable core, I, for their thoughtless, careless sakes, Their donsie tricks, their black mistakes, III. Ye see your state wi' theirs compar'd, And shudder at the niffer, But cast a moment's fair regard, What maks the mighty differ Discount what scant occasion gave, That purity ye pride in, And (what's aft mair than a' the lave) Your better art o' hiding. IV. Think, when your castigated pulse Gies now and then a wallop, What ragings must his veins convulse, That still eternal gallop: 5 Wi' Wi' wind and tide fair i' your tail, V. See social life and glee sit down, O would they stay to calculate Th' eternal consequences; VI. Ye high, exalted, virtuous dames, Before ye gie poor frailty names, But, let me whisper i' your lug, Ye're aiblins nae temptation. Then gently scan your Still gentler sister woman; Tho' they may gang a kennin wrang, To step aside is human : One point must still be greatly dark, VIII. Who made the heart, 'tis he alone Decidedly can try us, He knows each chord-its various tone, What's done we partly may compute, TAM |