Thou layest them, with all their cares,
In everlasting sleep;

As with a flood thou tak'st them off
With overwhelming sweep.

They flourish like the morning flow'r,
In beauty's pride array'd;

But long ere night cut down, it lies
All wither'd and decay'd. ›

TO A MOUNTAIN DAISY,

ON TURNING ONE DOWN WITH THE PLOUGH,

In April, 1786.

WEE, modest, crimson-tipped flow'r,
Thou's met me in an evil hour;

For I maun crush amang the stoure

Thy slender stem;

Το

spare thee now is past my pow'r,
Thou bonnie gem.

Alas! it's no thy neebor sweet, The bonnie Lark, companion meet! Bending thee 'mang the dewy weet!

Wi' spreckl'd breast,

When upward-springing, blithe, to greet

The purpling east,

Then low'ring, and pouring,.
The storm no more I dread;
Tho' thick'ning and black'ning,
Round my devoted head.

II.

And thou grim pow'r, by life abhorr'd,
While life a pleasure can afford,
Oh, hear a wretch's pray'r!

No more I shrink appall'd, afraid;

I court, I beg thy friendly aid, oldall
To close this scene of care! A
When shall my soul, in silent peace,
Resign life's joyless day;

My weary heart its throbbings cease,
Cold mould'ring in the clay?

No fear more, no tear more,
To stain my lifeless face;
Enclasped, and grasped.
Within thy cold embrace!

TO MISS L—,

WITH BEATTIE'S POEMS

As a New Year's Gift, Jan. 1, 1787.

AGAIN the silent wheels of time

Their annual round have driv'n,

And you, tho' scarce in maiden prime, Are so much nearer Heav'n.

No gifts have I from Indian coasts
The infant year to hail;

I send you more than India boasts
In Edwin's simple tale..

Our sex with guile and faithless love
Is charg'd, perhaps, too true;
But may, dear maid, each lover prove
An Edwin still to you!

EPISTLE

TO A YOUNG friend.

May 1786. .

I..

I LANG hae thought, my youthfu' Friend,
A something to have sent you,
Tho' 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.

II.

Ye'll try the world soon, my lad,
And, Andrew dear, believe me,
Ye'll find mankind an unco squad,

And muckle they may grieve ye

For care and trouble set your thought,
E'en when your end's attained;
And a' your views may come to nought,
Where ev'ry nerve is strained.

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 restricked:

But och, mankind are unco weak,
An' little to be trusted;
If self the wavering balance shake,
Its rarely right adjusted!

IV.

Yet they wha fa' in fortune's strife,
Their fate we should na censure,
For still th' important end of life
They equally may answer;
A man may hae an honest heart,
Tho' poortith hourly stare him;
A man may tak a neebor's part,
Yet hae nae cash to spare

him.

Ay 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 thro' ev'ry other man
Wi' sharpen'd sly inspection.

VI.

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

But never tempt. th' illicit

rove,

Tho' naething should divulge it a

I wave the quantom o' the sin,

The hazard of concealing; But och it hardens a' within, And petrifies the feeling!..

VII.

To catch dame Fortune's golden smile,
Assiduous wait upon her;

And gather gear by ev'ry wile
That's justified by honour;
Not for to hide it in a hedge,
Not for a train-attendant;
But for the glorious privilege
Of being independent.

VIII.

The fear o' hell's a hangman's whip
To haud the wretch in order;
But where ye feel your honour grip,
Let that
ay be your border;

Its slightest touches, instant pause-
Debar a' side pretences;

And resolutely keep its laws,

Uncaring consequences..