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ERRATA.

Page 6, line 1, after from zone read to zone.
Page 50, line 23, for the haughty read thee haughty.
Page 152, line 23, for hang's read hangs.
Page 154, line 14, after important post; insert
There Agamemnon points his dreadful host;
Page 180, line 21, after could insert please.
Page 227, line 26, for Chan read Chian.

Page 235, line 26, for the glorious read thy glorious.
Page 268, at bottom, for like a read like the.

PART I.

PRAYER FOR DIVINE AID.

BY MERRICK.

AUTHOR of Good! to thee I turn :
Thy ever-wakeful eye
Alone can all my wants discern,
Thy hand alone supply.

THE WISH.

BY MERRICK.

How short is life's uncertain space!
Alas! how quickly done!

How swift the wild precarious chase!
And yet how difficult the race,
How very hard to run!

Youth stops at first its wilful ears

To wisdom's prudent voice; Till now arrived at riper years, Experienced age, worn out with cares, Repents its earlier choice.

What though its prospects now appear So pleasing and refin'd;

Yet groundless hope, and anxious fear, By turns the busy moments share, And prey upon the mind.

B

Since then false joys our fancy cheat
With hopes of real bliss;

Ye guardian pow'rs that rule my fate,
The only wish that I create,

Is all compris'd in this.

May I through life's uncertain tide,
Be still from pain exempt;
May all my wants be still supplied,
My state too low t' admit of pride,
And yet above contempt.

But should your providence divine
A greater bliss intend;

May all those blessings you design,
(If e'er those blessings shall be mine)
Be center'd in a friend.

ROBERT BURNS.-BORN 1753; DIED 1796. TO A MOUNTAIN DAISY.

ON TURNING ONE DOWN WITH THE PLOUGH.

WEE, modest, crimson-tipped flower,
Thou's met me in an evil hour,
For I maun crush amang the stoure

Thy slender stem,

To spare thee now is past my power,

Thou bonnie gem.

Alas! it's no thy neebor sweet,
The bonnie lark, companion meet,
Bending thee 'mang the dewy weet,

Wi' spreckled breast,

When upward springing, blithe to greet

The purpling east.

Cauld blew the bitter-biting north
Upon thy early, humble birth;
Yet cheerfully thou glinted forth

Amid the storm,

Scarce reared above the parent earth

Thy tender form.

The flaunting flowers our gardens yield,
High sheltering woods and wa's maun shield;
But thou beneath the random bield

O' clod or stane,

Adorns the histie stibble-field

Unseen, alane.

There, in thy scanty mantle clad,
Thy snawie bosom sunward spread,
Thou lifts thy unassuming head

In humble guise:

But now the share uptears thy bed,

And low thou lies.

Such fate to suffering worth is given,
Who long with wants and woes has striven,
By human pride or cunning driven

To misery's brink,

Till, wrenched of every stay but Heaven,

He, ruined, sink!

Even thou who mourn'st the daisy's fate,
That fate is thine-no distant date;
Stern Ruin's ploughshare drives elate

Full on thy bloom,

Till, crushed beneath the furrow's weight,

Shall be thy doom.

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