And he wha's guided by this light Sae, tak it ill or tak it weel, Blunt truth I'll tell and shame the deil, And to your conscience wad appeal, But nane ye hae, Ye frozen-hearted ne'er-do-weel, Wi' pate sae grey. Lang hae ye bullied, weel I wat, 'Mid wat and dry; But still your grave-like greed to sate, Your fulsome, ill scrap't leein' tongue, For mair than sixty years has swung, And rudely cursed baith auld and young As black as hell, Till a' around has aften rung, They ken theirsel. Ayont a doubt, ah! doubt there's nane, E'en in the merest sceptic's brain, That you are surely Satan's ain Dark incarnation— Of double damn'd damnation plain And your infernal lowin' drouth, Your badge, your curse, frae early youth, When e'er a groat ye raise, forsooth, And mony a broken snout ye've had— And chairs and stools and bottles, lad, A' tapsateerie in a heap; While snakes and serpents round ye creep, And spectres dread their watches keep Sic dreadfu' dismal sights as these, Thus turn Teetotal, And suck our orange at soirees, And curse the bottle. Sae, wad ye to my hint attend, And tak at last a thocht and mend, But och I fear my words I'll spend And just as weel my counsel lend As weel attempt to raise the dead, And turn frae evil, Ye God-abandoned, past remeid, Black as the devil. THOUGHTS ON GOD. TERNAL and omniscient Source of all, Ere Nature's system sprang forth at thy call, Yon azure canopy, unfurled on high, Thy fiat first with starry spangles sowed; While through the pathless mazes of the sky The sun and moon in glorious lustre glowed. Thy voice commands the tempest to forbear, And tranquillizes the tumultuous main Charges the lightning whom to smite and spare, Volcanoes too, obsequious to thy nod, Hurl forth their rivers of aquatic fire, the nations with the iron rod To scourge Of thy displeasure sore, and vengeance dire. The earthquake opens by Divine decree, To spread destruction and lay waste the land; Before thee, Lord, what are all nations? Nought. In balance hills and mountains dost thou weighThe isles but atoms, buoyantly which float In mazy dances in the sunny ray. The clouds for Thy pavilion dread thou takest, Breath'st in the storm, rid'st on the whirlwind's wing; The spacious universe as dust thou makest Beneath thy feet, O thou Eternal King! All, all, conspire thy praise to ever sound, Ah, where in the created vast is found The spot unstamped with thy mysterious name! The heaven and earth pervaded are by Thee, With equal care, as through immensity The burning comet and the seraph's flight. But who by searching can Thee comprehend? What height, what depth, can with Thee co-extend ? "O let expressive silence muse thy praise!" PORTRAITURE OF REAL LIFE. URSED above all on this accursed earth! And weep your lot, thrice wretched and obscure, But for your sunless, frowning, blasted fate, And your own truckling and ignoble soul, Mute as a statue, trembling, hat in hand, |