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6 Tho' large the foreft's Monarch throws
• His army shade, Yet green the juicy Hawthorn grows,
• Adown the glade.
• THEN never murmur nor repine ; • Strive in thy humble sphere to shine j • And trust me, not Potosi's mine,
• Nor King's regard, * Can give a bliss o'ermatching thine,
'To give my counsels all in one, * Thy tuneful flame still careful fan;
• Preserve tbe dignity of Man,
• With Soul ere&t; * And trust, the Universal Plan
• Will all protect.
? And wear tbou tbis'--the folemn said, And bound the Holly round my head : The polish'd leaves, and berries red,
Did rustling play ;
My Son, these maxims make a rule,
And lump tbem ay tbegitber;
The Rigid Righteous is a fool,
The Rigid Wife anitber:
May bae some piles o'caff in ;
So ne'er a fellow-creature sligbt
For random fits o' duffin.
SOLOMON-Ecclef, ch. vii. verf. 16.
O YE wha are fae guid yourfel,
Saę pious and sae holy,
Ye've nought to do but mark and tell
Your Neebours' fauts and folly!
Whase life is like a weel-gaun mill,
Supply'd wi' store o' water, The heaped happer's ebbing still,
And still the clap plays clatter.
HEAR me, ye venerable Core,
As counsel for poor mortals,
That frequent pass douce Wisdom's door
For glaikit Folly's portals;
Would here propone defences,
Their failings and mischances,
What maks the mighty differ ; Discount what fcant occafion gave,
That purity ye pride in, And (what's aft mair tħan a' the lave)
Your better art o' hiding.
THINK, when your castigated pule
Gies now and then a wallop,
That still eternal gallop:
Right on ye fcud your sea-way; But, in the teeth o' baith to fail,
It maks an unco leeway.