His friend, inspirer, guardian, and reward!)

O never, never Scotia’s realm desert;

But still the patriot, and the patriot-bard

In bright succession raise, her ornament and guard!

PRAYER – O THOU DREAD POWER

O thou dread Power, who reign’st above,

I know thou wilt me hear,

When for this scene of peace and love

I make my prayer sincere.

The hoary Sire – the mortal stroke,

Long, long be pleas’d to spare:

To bless his little filial flock,

And show what good men are.

She, who her lovely offspring eyes

With tender hopes and fears,

O bless her with a mother’s joys,

But spare a mother’s tears!

Their hope, their stay, their darling youth,

In manhood’s dawning blush,

Bless him, Thou God of love and truth,

Up to a parent’s wish.

The beauteous, seraph sister-band,

With earnest tears I pray,

Thou know’st the snares on every hand,

Guide Thou their steps alway.

When, soon or late, they reach that coast,

O’er Life’s rough ocean driven,

May they rejoice, no wand’rer lost,

A family in Heaven!

EPIGRAM TO MISS AINSLIE IN CHURCH

Fair maid, you need not take the hint,

Nor idle texts pursue;

’Twas guilty sinners that he meant,

Not angels such as you.

LOVE AND SEX

THE RIGS O BARLEY
Tune: Corn rigs are bonie

CHORUS

Corn rigs, an barley rigs,

An corn rigs are bonie:

I’ll ne’er forget that happy night,

Amang the rigs wi Annie.

It was upon a Lammas night,

When corn rigs are bonie,

Beneath the moon’s unclouded light,

I held awa to Annie;

The time flew by, wi tentless heed;

Till, ’tween the late and early,

Wi sma’ persuasion she agreed

To see me thro the barley.

The sky was blue, the wind was still,

The moon was shining clearly;

I set her down, wi right good will,

Amang the rigs o barley:

I ken’t her heart was a’ my ain;

I lov’d her most sincerely;

I kiss’d her owre and owre again,

Amang the rigs o barley.

I lock’d her in my fond embrace;

Her heart was beating rarely:

My blessings on that happy place,

Amang the rigs o barley!

But by the moon and stars so bright,

That shone that hour so clearly!

She ay shall bless that happy night

Amang the rigs o barley.

I hae been blythe wi comrades dear;

I hae been merry drinking;

I hae been joyfu gath’rin gear;

I hae been happy thinking:

But a’ the pleasures e’er I saw,

Tho three times doubl’d fairly

That happy night was worth them a’,

Amang the rigs o barley.

MARY MORISON
Tune: Duncan Davison

O Mary, at thy window be,

It is the wish’d the trysted hour;

Those smiles and glances let me see,

That make the miser’s treasure poor:

How blythely wad I bide the stoure,

A weary slave frae sun to sun,

Could I the rich reward secure,

The lovely Mary Morison!

Yestreen, when to the trembling string

The dance gaed thro, the lighted ha’,

To thee my fancy took its wing,