' 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, For random fits o' daffin. SOLOMON.-Eccles. ch. vii. ver. 16. I. OYE wha are sae guid yoursel, Sae pious and sae holy, 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, But cast a moment's fair regard, What maks the mighty differ; Discount what scant occasion That purity ye pride in, gave And (what's aft mair than a' the lave) IV. Think, when your castigated pulse What ragings must his veins convulse, That still eternal gallop : Wi' wind and tide fair i' your tail, Right on ye scud your sea-way; But in the teeth o' baith to sail, It maks an unco lee-way. V. See social life and glee sit down, O would they stay to calculate Th' eternal consequences; VI. Ye high, exalted, virtuous dames, Ty'd up in godly laces, Before ye gie poor frailty names, Suppose a change o' cases; A dear lov'd lad, convenience snug, VII. Then gently scan your brother man, Tho' they may gang a kennin wrang, 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 |