Or shootin o' a hare or moor-cock,
The ne'er a bit they're ill to poor folk.

But will ye tell me, Master Cæsar,
Sure great folks' life a life o' pleasure?
Nae cauld nor hunger e'er can steer them,
The vera thought o't need na fear them.

CÆSAR.

Lord, man! were ye but whyles whare I am,
The gentles ye
wad ne'er envy 'em.
It's true they need na starve or sweat
Thro' winter's cauld or simmer's heat;
They've nae sair wark to craze their banes
An' fill auld age wi' gripes an' granes;
But human bodies are sic fools,
For a' their colleges and schools,
That when nae real ills perplex them
They make enow themselves to vex them;
An' ay the less they hae to sturt them,
In like proportion less will hurt them.
A kintra fellow at the pleugh,
His acres tilled, he's right eneugh ;
A kintra lassie at her wheel,
Her dizzens done, she's unco weel;
But gentlemen an' ladies warst
Wi' ev'ndown want o' wark are curst;
They loiter, lounging, lank an' lazy,
Though deil haet ails them, yet uneasy,
Their days insipid, dull an' tasteless,
Their nights unquiet, lang an' restless,
An' e'en their sports, their balls an' races,
Their galloping through public places
There's sie parade, sie pomp an' art,
The joy can scarcely reach the heart.
The men cast out in party matches,
Then sowther a' in deep debauches;
The ladies arm in arm in clusters
As great and gracious a' as sisters,

But hear their absent thoughts o' ither,
They're a' run deils an' jads thegither,
Whyles o'er the wee bit cup an' platie
They sip the scandal potion pretty,
Or lee-lang nights wi' crabbit leuks
Pore owre the devil's pictured beuks,
Stake on a chance a farmer's stackyard,
An' cheat like onie unhanged blackguard.
There's some exception, man an' woman,
But this is gentry's life in common.

By this the sun was out o' sight,
An' darker gloaming brought the night;
The bum-clock hummed wi' lazy drone,
The key stood rowtin i' the loan,
When up they gat, and shook their lugs,
Rejoiced they were na men, but dogs;
An' each took aff his several way,
Resolved to meet some ither day.

He spoke of trouble, pain and toil-
Endured but for a little while

In patience, faith and love-
Sure in God's own good time to be
Exchanged for an eternity
Of happiness above.

Then, as the spirit ebbed away,
He raised his hands and eyes to pray
That peaceful it might pass;

And then- The orphan's sobs alone
Were heard, and they knelt, every one,
Close round on the green grass.

Such was the sight their wondering eyes Beheld in heart-struck, mute surprise

Who reined their coursers back Just as they found the long-astray Who in the heat of chase that day

Had wandered from their track.