MISCELLANEOUS POEMS,

&c. &c.

HOPE AND CONTENTMENT,

MAN'S BEST SOLACE UNDER MISFORTUNE.

Fortuna vitrea est; tunc, quum splendet, frangitur. PUB. SIR.

Tho' Fortune shine like bonny glass,

As bright as e'e could wish it;

· Hard Poortith's fit can eithly press,

An', like an Egg-shell, crush it.

I HAVE felt all the pleasures of Hope in my youth,
Which Manhood has ne'er realis'd:

I have doated on Virtue, and doated on Truth,
And find these are still to be priz'd:

But the Phantoms, which Fancy presented to view,
Like the dews of the Morning are fled:

I grasp'd at each joy, while I strain'd to pursue,
And embrac'd-but a shade in its stead.

I have liv❜d to lose riches, yet shed not a tear;

"

For Hope has surviv'd their decay:

I have borne the proud insult of those once most dear,

For, even Friendship can wither away.

Ah! now I well know what it is to be poor:

'Tis the sin which can ne'er be forgiven;

Yet, on Earth, tho' it shut both the Heart and the Door, It excludes not the wretched from Heaven.

When Fortune smil'd fair on my happy abode,
Even Flatt'ry grew fat in my sight:

No Friend, but at Midnight could find out the road;
So I needed not twice to invite.

Now, the miscreant knave, as if want were disgrace, Contemptuously passes my door;

And, with look of vacuity, stares in my face,

Nor remembers he saw it before.

Now, no more on the surge of Ambition high toss'd, I'll pillow my head on the wave:

Like the poor, shatter'd shallop, whose rudder is lost, The wreck of my Hope I would save.

In some snug, Friendly Haven, whose rocks bay the winds,

And to toil-worn Distress is its shore,

I would moor, where tir'd Nature Life's requiem finds, And thinks on its tempests no more.

But where shall I find it? Ah! tell me ye few,

Who that secret in Life can unfold:

Who have found out that charm, in the road you pursue,
Which can change all it touches to gold.

Is it Pleasure? alas! I have seen its gay shew,
And tir'd of each scene as I went:

Is it Honour? ah, No! Is it love? ah, No! No!
Such charm is but found in Content.

Now I feel, with the wise, what a Fool I have been, Not to know where true Happiness lies:

She lives in those hearts, which, thro' Time's chec quer'd scene,

Can the Visions of Fortune despise.

'Tis the vein, where the treasures of Life lie conceal'd, And the Miner is sure to be blest:

In his short span of Time present Hope is reveal'd, And the Future bestows all the rest.

BRUTE BIOGRAPHY.

MY CAT.

YE unco wise, now, dinna sneer,
But kindly lend a lug to hear.
I'm redd that ye might weel be shent,
For thriftless hours ye war hae spent.

Ye wha ne'er need to dight your e'en,
Tho' Fate soud twin ye o' a frien',
Wha grudge a ruefu' face to shaw
In mem❜ry o' that friend awa.

Ye wha can greet, an' grane, an' whine, In hours o' sickness and o' pine, An' promise weel your life to mend Soud ye hae langer time to spend; But, free o' sickness and o' pain, Are at your shamefu' warks again. Ye wha ne'er reck'd a friend's advise Wha redd ye timely to turn wise, If man's example winna teach ye, Let's see, now, if a brute's will reach ye. I had a Cat, o' cats the wale, A bonny brute frae snout to tail, Saft as the silk his massy paw,

His skin as white as mountain snaw,

Save whar the gowden spraings confest
Shone glancin' on his wally chest ;
His smell like ony sluth-hund's keen,
An' quick his rowin' hazle een ;
Firm, portly on his legs he stood,
An' luikt a cat o' princely bluid.
Yet tho' he seem'd o' guid descent,
His pedigree I never kent.

Fu' weel I wat, some shaw their face,
Whase line wad be as ill to trace,
An' yet fu' heigh an' lordly carry't,
Wha ne'er had hauf my puss's merit.
Yet justice to his luiks to pay
Owre lang wad lengthen out my lay;
He's gane for nae exterior charm
Can Fate's upliftit haun disarm.
I never sneckt an amrie door,
Tam never steal'd tho' he was poor;
My confidence he ne'er abus'd,

An' aft the profer'd bite refus'd,
Wi' modest face withdrew his een,
As if the gift he hadna seen;
Nor, tho' it savoury stood beside him,
Wad steal the bit I had denied him.

How mony a loof had ne'er been bar'd,
o' heart been spar'd,

How mony a pang