Right, sir! your text I'll prove it true, Tho' heretics may laugh; For instance, there's yourself just now, God knows, anuncocalf. And should some patron be so kind, As bless you wi' a kirk, I doubt na, sir butthen we'll find, Ye're still as great a stirk. But, if the lover's raptur'd hour, Shall ever

Farewell, dear friend! may guidluck hit you, And 'mang her favourites admit you: If e'erDetraction shoreto smit you, May nanebelieve him, And ony deilthat thinks to getyou, Good Lord, deceive him!

The valiant, in himself, what can he suffer? Orwhat does he regard his single woes? Butwhen, alas! he multiplies himself, To dearer serves, to the lov'd tender fair, To those whose bliss, whose beings hang upon him, To helpless children,-then, Oh then, he feels The point of misery festering in his heart, And weakly weeps

Wae worththy power, thou cursed leaf! Fellsource o' a'my woe and grief! For lack o' thee I've lost my lass! For lack o' thee I scrimp my glass! I see the children of affliction Unaided, throughthy curst restriction: I've seen the oppressor's cruel smile Amid his hapless victim's spoil; And for thy potence vainly wished,

Sir, as your mandate did request, I send you here a faithfu' list, O' gudes an' gear, an' a' my graith, To which I'm clear to gi'e my aith. Imprimis, then, for carriage cattle, I hae four brutes o' gallant mettle, As ever drew afore a pettle. My hand-afore 's a guidauld has-been, An' wightan'

The simple Bard, unbroke byrules of art, He pours the wild effusions of the heart; And if inspir'd 'tis Nature's pow'rs inspire; Her's all the melting thrill, and her's the kindling fire.