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A few seem favourites of fate,
In pleasure's lap caress'd;
Yet, think not all the rich and great
Are likewise truly blest.
A mind that is conscious of its integrity scorns to say more than it means to perform.
And last, the crown of a' my grief.
Be Britain still to Britain true,
Amang oursels united;
For never but by British hands,
Maun British wrangs be righted.
Breathes there a man, whose judgment clear
Can others teach their course to steer,
Yet run himself life's mad career
Wild as the wave?
But facts are chiels that winna ding,
An downa be disputed.
But human bodies are sic fools,
For a' their colleges and schools,
That when use real ills perplex them,
They make enow themselves to vex them.
But pleasures are like poppies spread:
You seize the flower,--its bloom is shed.
Care, mad to see a man sae happy,
E'en drouned himsel amang the nappy.
Cock up your beaver.
Dearly bought the hidden treasure finer feelings can bestow.
Even every ray of hope destroyed and not a wish to gild the gloom.
Firmness, both in sufferance and exertion, is a character which I would wish to possess. I have always despised the whining yelp of complaint and the cowardly, feeble resolve.
For gold the merchant ploughs the main,
The farmer ploughs the manor.
From scenes like these old Scotia's grandeur springs.
Gather gear by ev'ry wile
That's justified by honor;
Not for to hide it in a hedge,
Nor for a train attendant;
But for the glorious privilege
Of being independent.
Great for good, or great for evil.
He wales a portion with judicious care;
And "Let us worship Goat" he says, with solemn air.
Her prentice han' she tried on man,
And then she made the lasses O!
I have always despised the whining yelp of complaint, and the cowardly feeble resolve.
I'ld charm her with the magic of a switch.
In this bad, twisted, topsy-turvy world,
Where all the heaviest wrongs get uppermost.(Browning, E.B.} The wide world is all before us--
But a world without a friend.
Is there a man whose judgment clear
Can others teach the course to steer,
Yet runs himself life's mad career,
Wild as the wave?
It's hardly in a body's power
To keep at times, frae being sour,
To see how things are shar'd;
How best o' chiels are whyles in want,
While coofs on countless thousands rant,
And ken na how to wear't.
It's no' in books, it's no' in lear,
To make us truly blest;
If happiness has not her seat
And center in the breast,
We may be wise, or rich, or great,
But never can be blest.
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