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CHIEFLY,

SCOTTISH.

WRITTEN

IN

FRIARS-CARSE HERMITAGE,

ON NITH-SIDE.

THOU whom chance may hither lead

HOU
Be thou clad in ruffet weed,
Be thou deckt in filken stole,
Grave these counsels on thy soul.

Life is but a day at most,
Sprung from night, in darkness loit;
Hope not funshine every hour,
Fear noi clouds will always lour,

A 3

As Youth and Love with sprightly dances,
Beneath thy morning ftar advance,
Pleasure with her firen air
May delude the thoughtless pair ;
Let Prudence bless Enjoyment's cup,
Then raptured fip and sip it up.

As thy day grows warm and high,
Life’s meridian flaming nigh,
Dost thou fpurn the humble vale?
Life’s proud summits wouldst thou scale :
Check thy climbing step elate,
Evils lurk in felon wait :
Dangers, eagle-pinioned, bold,
Soar around each cliffy hold,
While chearfal peace, with linnet song,
Chants the lowly dells among.

As thy shades of evening close,
Beck’ning thee to long repose ;
As life itself becomes disease,
Seek the chimney-nook of eafe.
There ruminate with fober thought,
On all thou'st feen, and heard, and wrought;
And teach the sportive younkers round,
Saws.of experience, fage and sound,
Say, man's true, genuine eitimate,
The grand criterion of his fate,
Is not, art thou high or low?
Did thy fortune ebb or flow?

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