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As Tammie gloured, amazed and curious,
The mirth and fun grew fast and furious.

Tam OShanter.
Affliction's sons are brothers in distress;
A brother to relieve, how exquisite the bliss !

A Winter's Night.
Then gently scan your brother man,

Still gentler, sister woman;
Though they may gang a kennin' wrang,
To step aside is human.

Address to the Unco Guid. What 's done we partly may compute,

But know not what's resisted. Ibid.

If there's a hole in a' your coats,

I rede ye tent it;
A chiel's amang ye takin' notes,

And, faith, he 'll prent it.
On Captain Grose's Peregrinations through Scotland.
O wad some power the giftie gie us,
To see oursels as others see us !
It wad frae monie a blunder free us,

And foolish notion. To a Louse. The best laid schemes o' mice and men

Gang aft a-gley;
And leave us naught but grief and pain

For promised joy. To a Mouse. Stern Ruin's ploughshare drives elate

Full on thy bloom. To a Mountain Daisy. i Compare Young, Night Thoughts, ix. Line 167.

Ibid.

Perhaps it may turn out a sang,
Perhaps turn out a sermon.

Epistle to a Young Friend.
I waive the quantum o' the sin,

The hazard of concealing;
But, och! it hardens a' within,

And petrifies the feeling !
The fear o'hell's a hangman's whip

To haud the wretch in order ;
But where ye feel your honour grip,

Let that aye be your border. Ibid.
An Atheist's laugh 's a poor exchange
For Deity offended !

Ibid. And may you better reck the rede,

Than ever did th' adviser! Ibid. In durance vile here must I wake and weep, And all my frowzy couch in sorrow steep.”

Epistle from Esopus to Maria.
His locked, lettered, braw brass collar
Shewed him the gentleman and scholar.

The Twa Dogs.
Dweller in yon dungeon dark,
Hangman of creation, mark !
Who in widow-weeds appears,
Laden with unhonoured years,
Noosing with care a bursting purse,
Baited with many a deadly curse?

Ode on Mrs. Oswald. 1 Shakespeare, Hamlet, Act i. Sc. 3. ? Durance vile. — W. Kenrick (1766), Falstaff's Wedding, i. 2; Burke, The Present Discontents.

O Life! how pleasant in thy morning,
Young Fancy's rays the hills adorning !
Cold-pausing Caution's lesson scorning,

We frisk away,
Like school-boys at th' expected warning,

To joy and play.

Epistle to James Smith, O life! thou art a galling load, Along a rough, a weary road,

To wretches such as I! Despondency.

Should auld acquaintance be forgot,

And never brought to min' ? Should auld acquaintance be forgot,

And days o' lang syne? Auld Lang Syne. Misled by fancy's meteor-ray,

By passion driven ;
But yet the light that led astray

Was light from heaven. The Vision.
And, like a passing thought, she fled
In light away.

Ibid. Now's the day, and now's the hour, See the front o' battle lour. Bannockburn. Liberty 's in every blow! Let us do or die.

Ibid. Man's inhumanity to man Makes countless thousands mourn.

Man was made to mourn. 1 See Proverbial Expressions.

Auld Nature swears, the lovely dears

Her noblest work she classes, 0; Her 'prentice han' she tried on man, And then she made the lasses, O11

Green grow the Rashes.
Some wee short hour ayont the twal.

Death and Dr. Hornbook.
The rank is but the guinea's stamp,
The man 's the gowd for a' that.?

Is there for Honest Poverty.
A prince can make a belted knight,

A marquis, duke, and a' that;
But an honest man 's aboon his might,

Guid faith, he maunna fa' that. Ibid.
But to see her was to love her,
Love but her, and love for ever.

Song Ae Fond Kiss.
Had we never loved sae kindly,
Had we never loved sae blindly,
Never met or never parted,
We had ne'er been broken-hearted !

Ibid. Man was made when Nature was But an apprentice, but woman when she Was a skilful mistress of her art.

Cupid's Whirligig. 1607. ? I weigh the man, not his title; 't is not the king's stamp can make the metal better. - Wycherley, The Plaindealer, Act i. Sc. I.

3 Of the king's creation you may be ; but he who makes a Count ne'er made a man. - Southerne, Sir Anthony Love, Act ii. Sc. I.

To see her is to love her,
And love but her for ever.

Bonny Lesley.
O, my luve 's like a red, red rose,

That's newly sprung in June,
O, my luve 's like the melodie,
That's sweetly played in tune.

Song. A Red, Red Rose.
It 's guid to be merry and wise,
It 's guid to be honest and true,
It 's guid to support Caledonia's cause,
And bide by the buff and the blue.

Here's a health to them that's awa.

Ibid.

'T is sweeter for thee despairing,
Than aught in the world beside, — Jessy !

Jessy. Gars auld claes look amaist as weel's the new.

The Cotter's Saturday Night. Beneath the milk-white thorn that scents the

evening gale. He wales a portion with judicious care; And “Let us worship God!” he says, with solemn air.

Ibid. From scenes like these old Scotia's grandeur

springs, That makes her loved at home, revered abroad: Princes and lords are but the breath of kings, “An honest man 's the noblest work of God.”

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