II.

Ye'll try the world foon my lad,

And ANDREW dear believe me, Ye'll find mankind an unco fquad, And muckle they may grieve ye: For care and trouble fet your thought, Ev'n when your end's attained; And a' your views may come to nought, Where ev'ry nerve is ftrained.

III.

I'll no say, men are villains a'

The real, harden'd wicked,

Wha hae nae check but human law,
Are to a few reftricked:

But Och, mankind are unco weak,

An' little to be trusted

;

If Self the wavering balance shake,
It's rarely right adjusted!

IV.

Yet they wha fa' in Fortune's ftrife,
Their fate we should na cenfure,

For ftill th' important end of life,
They equally may answer:

Y

A man may hae an honeft heart, Tho' Poortith hourly ftare him; A man may tak a neebor's part, Yet hae nae cab to fpare him.

V.

Ay free, aff han', your story tell,
When wi' a bofom crony ;

But ftill keep fomething to yoursel
Ye scarcely tell to ony.
Conceal yourfel as weel's

Frae critical diffection ;

ye can

But keek thro' ev'ry other man,
Wi' fharpen'd, fly inspection.
VI.

The facred lowe o' weel plac'd love,
Luxuriantly indulge it;

But never tempt th' illicit rove,

Tho' naething should divulge it: I wave the quantum o' the fin; The hazard of concealing; But Och! it hardens a' within, And petrifies the feeling!

VII.

To catch Dame Fortune's golden fmile,

Affiduous wait upon her;

And gather gear by ev'ry wile,

That's justify'd by Honor: Not for to hide it in a hedge, Nor for a train-attendant; But for the glorious priviledge Of being independant.

VIII.

The fear o' Hell's a hangman's whip,
To haud the wretch in order;
But where ye feel your Honor grip,
Let that ay be your border:
It's slightest touches, inftant pause—
Debar a' fide-pretences;

And refolutely keep it's laws,
Uncaring confequences.

The

IX.

great CREATOR to revere, Muft fure become the Creature;

But still the preaching cant forbear,

And ev'n the rigid feature:

Yet ne'er with Wits prophane to range,

Be complaifance extended;

An athieft-laugh's a poor exchange
For Deity offended!

X.

When ranting round in Pleasure's ring,
Religion may be blinded;

Or if she gie a random-sting,

It may be little minded;

But when on Life we're tempeft-driven,

A Confcience but a canker-
A correspondence fix'd wi' Heav'n,

Is fure a noble anchor!

XI.

Adieu, dear, amiable Youth!

Your heart can ne'er be wanting!

May Prudence, Fortitude and Truth
Erect your brow undaunting!

In ploughman phrafe GOD fend you speed,'

Still daily to grow wiser;

And may ye better reck the rede,

Than ever did th' Adviser!

ONA

SCOTCH BAR D

GONE TO THE WEST INDIES.

A

Ye wha live by fowps o' drink, A' ye wha live by crambo-clink, wha live and never think,

Come, mourn wi' me!

Our billie's gien us a' a jink,

An' owre the Sea.