Verses to a Young Lady

Here, where the Scotish Muse immortal lives,In sacred strains and tuneful numbers join'd,Accept the gift; tho' humble he who gives,Rich is the tribute of the grateful mind.

So may no ruffian-feeling in thy breastDiscordant jar thy bosom-chords among!But Peace attune thy gentle soul to rest,Or Love, ecstatic, wake his seraph song!

Or Pity's notes, in luxury of tears,As modest Want the tale of woe reveals;While conscious Virtue all the strain endears,And heaven-born Piety her sanction seals!