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• 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 ;

. And trust me, not Potosi's mine,

• Nor King's regard, Can give a bliss o’ermatching thine,

A rustic Bard.


• To give my counsels all in one, Thy tuneful flame still careful fan;

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• Preserve the dignity of Man,

With Soul erect;

* And trust, the Universal Plan

Will all protect.


? And wear thou this'-she folemn said, And bound the Holly round my head : The polish'd leaves, and berries red,

Did ruftling play ; And, like a passing thought, she fed

In light away.

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My Son, tbese maxims make a rule,

And lump them ay tbegitber ;

The Rigid Righteous is a fool,

The Rigid Wife anitber:
The cleanest corn tbat e'er was dig bi

May bae some piles o' caff in ;


So ne'er a fellow-creature sligbt

For random fits o' daffin.

SOLOMON-Ecclef. ch. vii. verf. 16.


O YE wha are fae guid yoursel,

Sae pious and fae 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;
1, for their thoughtless, careless fakes

Would here propone defences,
Their donfie tricks, their black mistakes,

Their failings and mischances,




YE see your state wi' their's compare

And shudder at the niffer,

But cast a moment's fair regard

What maks the mighty differ;

Discount what scant occafion gave,

That purity ye pride in, And (what's aft mair than a' the lave)

Your better art o' hidingo


THINK, when your castigated pulse

Gies now and then a wallop,
What ragings must his veins convulse,

That still eternal gallop:
Wi' wind and tide fair i' your tail,

Right on ye fcud your sea-way; But, in the teeth o' baith to fail,

It maks an unco leeway,

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