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THE
BEAUTIES
OF
BURNS' POEMS.
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The Cotter's Saturday-Night.
INSCRIBED TO R. A****, Esq.
Let not Ambition mock their useful toil,
Their homely joys, and destiny obscure;
Nor Grandeur hear, with a disdainful smile,
The short but simple annals of the Poor.—GRAY.
MY lov'd, my honour'd, much-respected friend,
No mercenary Bard his homage pays;
With honest pride, I scorn each selfish end,
My dearest need, a friend's esteem and praise:
To you I sing, in simple Scottish lays,
The lowly train in Life's sequester'd scene;
The native feelings strong, the guileless ways,
What A**** in a cottage would have been;
Ah! thoʻ his worth unknown, far happier there, I ween.
No mercenary Bard his homage pays;
With honest pride, I scorn each selfish end,
My dearest need, a friend's esteem and praise:
To you I sing, in simple Scottish lays,
The lowly train in Life's sequester'd scene;
The native feelings strong, the guileless ways,
What A**** in a cottage would have been;
Ah! thoʻ his worth unknown, far happier there, I ween.
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