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Prone down the rock the whitening sheet descends."





Among the heathy hills and ragged woods
The roaring Foyers pours his mossy floods,
Till full he dashes on the rocky mounds,
Where, through a shapeless breach, his stream resounds,
As high in air the bursting torrents flow,
As deep-recoiling surges foam below,
Prone down the rock the whitening sheet descends,
And viewless Echo's ear, astonish'd, rends.
Dim seen through rising mists and ceaseless showers,
The hoary cavern, wide-surrounding, lowers.
Still, through the gap the struggling river toils,
And still, below, the horrid caldron boils.

Epistle to a Young friend.

I LANG hae thought, my youthfu' friend,

A something to have sent you, Though it should serve nae other end

Than just a kind memento; But how the subject-theme may gang,

Let time and chance determine; Perhaps it may turn out a sang,

Perhaps turn out a sermon.

Ye'll try the world fu' soon, my lad;

And, Andrew, dear, believe me, You 'll find mankind an unco squad,

And muckle they may grieve ye: For care and trouble set your thought,

Even when your end's attain'd ; And a' your views may come to nought,

Where every nerve is strain'd

I'll no say men are villains a';

The real, harden'd, wicked, Wha hae nae check but human law,

Are to a few restricked : But, och! mankind are unco weak,

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 shouldna censure, For ştill the 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 na 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 ; But keek through every other man,

Wi' sharpen'd, sly inspection.

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